The Burden of Forgiving

Forgiveness always seemed to me an intellectual activity but I've come to think of it more as a exercise of heart that becomes easier with self discipline and much practice.
One day I was struggling with frustration that my heart didn't seem to want to comply with this exercise. I had been hurt and embarassed the evening before and was nursing the pain.
Why was the pain so intense, when the injury was unintentional and why could I not practice that which I strongly believe? If it was not a grievous injury, why then was my pain so acute? Why does my pain even matter in the grand scheme of things? There are a couple of things I learned from this episode which may have been the sole purpose of this lesson.
Two weeks ago my husband apologized to a friend for being short and insensitive to an area of common interest. The picture of this friend accepting the apology publicly has been fused in my minds eye ever since; not so much the acceptance of the apology but rather the picture of his wife holding his hand while waiting for the exchange to end. This picture started me thinking about the pain that this friend endured over the previous week before the healing began. His wife was there to comfort him during the process, and her body language testified to the weight of the burden on him to forgive. While I was proud of my husbands humility, I hold a greater pride in my heart for this forgiving friend.
We continually try to teach our children how to apologize for the things they inflict on each other, but how much time do we devote to teaching them the greater service of forgiving?
If I understand that God created emotion to teach us anything of value, this would be at the top of the list. Forgiving always cost someone emotional pain, and apology always involves trusting the other with the burden of forgiving. Emotions are not a human weakness, but a God given opportunity. Our pain matters very much in the larger picture when it leads to understanding and eventual transformation of our hearts.

Friday Morning

No day is normal around here unless you consider drop-in ex foster kids who think they got their stuff together but the more they talk the more they reveal the truth. They, especially the girls, just want a Mom and Dad to care about them. Mom and Dad can't be bothered, and when confronted by the wounded child the parent responds in the only way they know and manage to shatter all hope. What a sad mess to try to grow up with or without.
This morning we are all up early so I made 2 different kinds of coffee. High octain for my step daughter and decafe for the foster son who is on meds to keep him calm. I figure the teachers might appreciate him not being jacked at 8:30 in the morning. I managed to make a fruit salad that I figure will be sitting there all day for me to nibble on. My step son left with a handful of fruit and puffy eyes from being on a late date with the girl of his dreams. This sounds really serious and we are all happy for them.
My daughters are grown and married so it is really bizare for me to turn back the clock and do this all over again. I was way too young to retire anyway.