Forgiveness. I Get It! I Feel Squeaky Clean!

Temple of Forgiveness, Burning Man 2007

Forgiveness was the topic of our sermons this Sunday and last. Forgiving others. Asking God's Forgiveness for our own misdeeds.

I heard this, oh, I don't know, maybe 1,863 times but I finally got it this time around! I'm sure you have had that moment of self realization at one time or another. After going in one ear and out the other, someone finally says the right combination of words and all of a sudden a concept that we would blink blankley at makes complete sense. It gets caught in one of those little cogs in our brains and the light bulb goes on. Click. I get it.

I've led a blessed life; I don't have to try to summon forgiveness for someone who killed, raped, attacked, stole or otherwise maimed me or a family member.

Except for that sneaky abusive fraud I worked for, who lied like a snake so he could get rid of me, but I won't go into that....

I've forgiven the slimy little %#*#$@ but that doesn't mean I condone or agree with what he did. It means I've left it to God. As a result, I'm sleeping better. I've stopped dreaming about him. I don't wake up thinking about him. I'm even beginning to scrape some of my self-worth back together in a little pile. One of these days I might collect enough of it to knit a t-shirt or something.

The main points about forgiving others for hurtful deeds large and small are:



It's not up to us.


We are not the center of the Universe.


It's up to God.


It doesn't mean we condone.


It doesn't mean we forget.


It means we let go of the resentment, the anger, the hate.


It means we give it to God.


It means God is the One who judges and forgives.


God is.


It's not up to us.

As for our own misdeeds, If we ask God in the name of Jesus to forgive us, we are forgiven. Completely. New score sheet, please. Fresh start. Clean slate. Done. That's the one I have the most trouble with. How can I possibly be forgiven for every misdeed I have ever committed just by asking. Especially those I do over and over again? Stupid little stuff. Why?


Because of the Grace of God.


His Grace falls down on us like rain.

Sometimes in the process of asking forgiveness we forget to forgive ourselves.


We doubt the Grace of God.


We don't understand the meaning of grace.


Grace can be defined as favor or kindness shown without regard to the worth or merit of the one who receives it, and in spite of what that person deserves


I get it. That's a good description of me.


I asked for forgiveness today, and for the first time ever, I listened, understood and accepted that, yes!, despite my worth or merit or what I deserve, I am forgiven.


Squeaky clean.

Thank you God!

Try it.



Thanks, Pastor Chad. I really did get it this time.

Blog in Bloom Award

I have created the Bog in Bloom Award, which I will present from time to time to writers who have created a place that is blooming with the beauty of their spirit, personality and words and who encourage others to do the same. The orchids pictured are my own. They are a fragrant phalaenopsis hybrid. The blooms look like dawn when they first open and sunset as they close.

The first presentation of this award is very appropriately given to Lavinia Ladyslipper of The Birdbath Chronicles ! Lavinia has created a beautiful garden of words and pictures that is a pure joy to visit. She shares her garden with us, and encourages others with her wonderfully kind, inspiring and often humorous comments. Thank you, Lavinia for a beautiful Blog in Bloom!

Forget-me-nots and a Poem for Saturday

I would be in a very difficult position if I were to have to choose a favorite flower. It be like choosing a favorite friend. Each friend and flower has their own enduring qualities, beauty, charm, spirit and individual reason for bringing joy to the soul. On my very long list of favorite flowers are forget-me-nots. Who couldn't love these tiny sprigs of blue sky with a sunny center. I grew them easily in Michigan, but they don't seem to like my Florida yard. I've planted seeds several times with no success. I tried again this year and am waiting to see what happens. While I wait, I thought I'd share my poem by the same name with you:

Forget-me-nots


I was sitting in a Waffle House
Just outside Peoria
Trying to get some syrup off my elbow
With one of those inadequate tissue napkins that pop out
None at a time
From a black and silver dispenser
Invariably jammed
Between sticky salt and pepper shakers
And a crusty catsup bottle

I wish to God that Estelle
(Her name tag reads)
Would spend more time
Cleaning syrup off chipped Formica table tops
And less time washing leatherette seats
With that sour dishrag
That appears to be universally owned
By every Waffle House in the region

Probably has “Waffle House Midwest”
Stamped on one smelly corner
And makes the rounds by express truck
Arriving three minutes before I do
At any given location

At least I can depend on a good cup of coffee
And a runny egg
If I want one

Reminds me of my mother’s kitchenette table
With that yellow oilcloth cover
Always slightly damp from a sour dishrag
Frayed some around the pinking-sheared edges
Dotted with small blue flowers

Probably forget-me-nots
Must be
Because I haven’t

And those cigarette burns on the corner
Where my father used to sit
And peruse the morning paper
Over his runny eggs

Might as well call the cigarette burns
Forget-me-nots too
Because I haven’t


Cynthia Ann Conciatu

HM 2005 Letters Contest, National League of American Pen Women, Inc.