When I was in fourth grade, I attended a small private school in Palmer, Texas. One day at the beginning of school, I was called to the principle's office. I trembled in the presence of authority (back then). I was a rule follower, plain and simple.
It would seem someone had written "Kay Lynn loves Bubba" on the bathroom wall. Naturally, the first assumption would be that I was the one who had done the writing, and while it is true that I did indeed 'love Bubba,' I was not the one who had committed this act of graffiti. It was a small school and before the morning was over, almost every girl had seen what was written on the bathroom wall. I. Was. Mortified.
Even though I knew I was innocent, there was still that shadow of suspicion over me. That was a heavy burden, knowing I was telling the truth, but also knowing everyone didn't fully believe me. Before the end of the day, for whatever reason, someone confessed. It was my best friend Sarah. She admitted to writing it on the wall out of jealousy. She cried and apologized, and I told her it was ok, I wasn't mad, that we were still friends.
And that is the first time I ever remember forgiving someone.
Forgiveness is a beautiful thing. I have forgiven much since then, and definitely had much forgiven me. Sometimes its easy. Sometime its hard. Sometimes I do it in spite of myself. The worse things to forgive are the ones you have to do over and over, when you look down and realize, "Oh, I've picked that up again," and you have to very deliberately begin new. I realized Wednesday there were some things I had stopped carrying around. What a great feeling.
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