I am lucky enough to be married to a pretty spectacular human being. He’s wonderful, but he isn’t perfect.
This weekend he made a scheduling error, and since he was out of town, I had figure out how to navigate it without much advance warning. Flexibility is not one of my strengths.
He apologized and asked if I would forgive him.
I said yes, albeit a bit begrudgingly at first.
I started thinking about all the times he has said he is sorry and asked for forgiveness. I started thinking about all the times I have said I was sorry and asked for forgiveness. I thought of all the times I had messed up and been forgiven without even asking, and vice versa.
Over the course of our fifteen-year relationship we have apologized, forgiven, and made up more times than I can count. And all of the messing up and forgiving and growing has created a depth of relationship I never could’ve imagined when were first dating and relatively unaware of each other’s flaws.
Then I looked at my parents, who have been married for forty years. How many “I’m sorry”s and “I forgive you”s must have been spoken over the years?
As I was reflecting on this, my kids started bickering, as they often do. There were more apologies and there was more forgiveness, and then they went back to playing their game.
All of the sudden I felt like I was witnessing miracles. The fact that people can be humble and aware enough to say I’m sorry feels miraculous. The fact the people can offer forgiveness when they have been wronged is downright breath-taking.
It seems like primal instinct to want to hold on to our anger. It seems natural to maintain the position that we were right. The fact that relationships, whether through marriage, friendship, or family, can endure the years and flaws and humanness of each other seems like a supernatural phenomenon.
Apologizing and forgiving are not easy business. They are complicated and messy and painful. Forgiving someone does not always mean that a relationship is reconciled and restored; what it does mean is that we consciously choose to let go of the need for revenge and we intentionally release any bitterness or resentment. Apologizing means that we accept the responsibility for our actions and seek to make amends. Those are incredibly hard words to live out.
But we do it all the time. We mess up and seek to make it right. We are wronged and we choose not to hold on to our anger and let it grow into bitterness and resentment. Much of the time, we choose to continue to be in relationship with people, even though we are well-aware of their flaws and imperfections.
It amazes me that these things happen.
Spring has (finally) come to the Chicago area, and I am starting to see buds emerge on the trees. There are daffodils all along the road on my way to work. Spring feels like a miracle.
I was just talking to a friend who is waiting for news that his niece has been born, any minute now. New life is always, always miraculous.
And, in a way, an apology and forgiveness are small deaths and resurrections, pictures of restoration, and evidence of new life. We participate in a miracle when we humble ourselves and accept responsibility for our mistakes or intentional wrongdoing. We participate in a miracle when we consciously choose to lay aside our anger and resentment.
Daily, mundane life holds more amazing and supernatural experiences than I once imagined, and I want to see and participate in as many of these experiences as I possibly can. Every I’m sorry and I forgive you gives us a chance to be part of miracle, and I don’t want to miss it.