Lord, what is happening to me? I feel so numb and I don't understand. Is this feeling okay? What is the whole point if we live just to die? Why does it have to be now, and not decades later? What is the essence of life? What is the meaning of this brief stay on this side of eternity? I see folks with swollen red eyes, and others with dry eyes but pious looks on their faces and can't help but wonder what if... Where shall we go from here? How shall we prevent further occurence or are we doomed to suffer the same fate? Sons die, daughters die, fathers die, mothers die, young ones die, aged folks die, wives die, husbands too. The order in which they die however is not known by anyone but by God. This brings me back to my already futile quest-knowing the point of it all... We live, we die.Why is it that we don't really respond or show up to our folks when good things happen to them? Seems to me like we have taken those good things for granted because they happen every now and then anyway. We show up in huge numbers to offer our condolensces when something bad or really bad happens because they don't happen everyday and jerk us back to life and cause us to do a reality check. My numbness ended at the cemetry. Even though I couldn't see what was going on from the back, I joined in the singing of the hymn 'it is well with my soul'. The reality dawned on me with a 'thud' as a shovel-full of sand landed on the casket six feet 'beyond'. My heart skipped a beat, then raced for a couple of seconds that seemed like eternity and a dreadful feeling came over me. I took a solitary walk out of the graveyard.
Forgiveness, just like Love, has definitions to varying degrees or like an onion—layers. I always thought I had the forgiveness thing locked down, yeah right! Just like the proverbial out of the blue, it hit me that I had just erased that part from memory and decided the type of forgiveness I wanted to extend. I found out that I couldn’t (or at least that’s what I had subconsciously agreed) go back if I had the chance. On my way home, it became evident that this sealed can of worms had been in the basement and it is already stinking. It took an interviewer’s probing questions for me to shed light on that chapter in my life’s story. Forgiveness is absolute, but just like everything else, we make it relative and as such varying standards abound. This means what I call forgiveness may not cut it for someone else. While my version of forgiveness may be shallow and warped, yours may be brutally honest. Ultimately, we are responsible for our versions of forgiveness, while it is in our best