“While you’re busy holding a grudge, the other guy’s out dancing.”—Buddy Hackett
A Question
At the foot of the bridge that crosses Hoyt Lake, there is a question printed on concrete: Can you forgive them? With the many opportunities life offers me to resent others, this is a question worth considering.
Thanks, MW
The online Merriam-Webster dictionary defines resentments as:
“a feeling of indignant displeasure or persistent ill will at something regarded as a wrong, insult, or injury.”
It originates in Latin: re + sentir (to feel).
Picking at Scabs
If you’re like me, you re-feel the offenses of others over and over again. Reminders can be important. They can help me to set boundaries with certain people or help me to remember when I cannot trust someone. Yet, if I remain in a constant state of vigilance, the scab cannot form, the wound cannot close, and infection is inevitable.
The Age of Innocence
During an insightful moment a few weeks back, I discovered I was harboring some resentments.
The realization brought to mind something Dr. Imani Perry says toward the end of her Babel lecture (thankfully, I was able to watch a recording!!). Americans, she observed, are preoccupied with the idea of innocence, and I—to my great surprise—am no exception.
In clinging to my resentments, incessantly nursing the festering wounds of my past, I am, in truth, clinging to the fantasy of my own innocence, blaming others for my problems, and ignoring the harm I cause(d).
All Roads Lead to…Grace
Here’s another surprise. I find that when I accept responsibility for my own indiscretions and admit I am flawed—this requires daily dedication—it becomes easier to let others off the hook. I can allow them their mistakes and give us both some grace.
In giving grace, I do not have to accept abuse, but it does require me to honor the other person’s right to be complicated, imperfect, and flawed. For, though they (we) be flawed, they (we) remain valuable works of art.
A Response
Can I forgive them?
I can, and, if I wish to survive the innumerable wounds of this world—life on life’s terms and all that—I must.
