All That I Have Written Is Straw. . .

Meanderings of a Catholic Devout


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If there were words to express how humbled I have been this last week, I am certainly not knowledgeable of them.

I have hurt a friend in a very deep way and I have hurt myself more so.  I completely took advantage of him because of my own weakness and my inability to have things go my way, in spite of lack of communication.  I think he forgave me, quite immediately.  But I have rarely felt so low in my life and so powerless in my intentions.  I sobbed so hard when I left that I was utterly exhausted and physically ill by the time I got home, completely heartbroken. 

Just before I collapsed into a three-hour nap, I remember praying for forgiveness.  I remember praying for my guardian to wrap my body in its wings and shelter me for a bit from reality.  I was so depressed, it hurt to wake up.  It hurt to come to terms with the gravity of the situation.  I am mortified and am not sure how I can look my friend in the face again.  I lazily moped around, teary-eyed for the remainder of the evening, until God once again saw fit to grant me mercy. 

As I was about to call it a night and content to cry myself to sleep, another old friend sent me a message online, though we haven’t spoken in ages.  We chatted for a good hour and a half. . . not about my problem, but just about life.  And though it was late, he decided to call me and we chatted for at least another hour.  Our conversation was so spontaneous and lively, I soon found myself laughing aloud and giggling about silly memories.   Don’t misunderstand me–I wasn’t sidetracked from my previous preoccupation.  I was just somehow fully aware, in the moment, that I was being given a precious gift.  I was genuinely sorry for my offense.  I felt very strongly a sense of mercy for my contrite heart.

So this afternoon, I took my contrite heart and confessed everything.  I am still very sad that it had to come to this in order for me to confess again, but I am also shedding tears of joy.  “Sanctus, sanctus, sanctus,” were the words over the altar that I kept reciting while I waited and then, again, afterwards while I reflected on tomorrow’s gospel:  the story of the woman sinner who wipes clean Christ’s feet with her tears and her hair.

Turning toward the woman, He said to Simon, “Do you see this woman? I entered your house; you gave Me no water for My feet, but she has wet My feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. 

“You gave Me no kiss; but she, since the time I came in, has not ceased to kiss My feet.

“You did not anoint My head with oil, but she anointed My feet with perfume.

“For this reason I say to you, her sins, which are many, have been forgiven, for she loved much; but he who is forgiven little, loves little.”

Then He said to her, “Your sins have been forgiven.” 

Those who were reclining at the table with Him began to say to themselves, “Who is this man who even forgives sins?”

And He said to the woman, “Your faith has saved you; go in peace.”  (Luke 7:44-50)

When I get the chance to see my offended friend again, I will ask if there are any reparations I can do.  I hope he accepts my apology as more than just words.  I know he didn’t want me to beat myself up over it, but there is no excuse for my behavior and it won’t happen again.  God is very merciful, though.  There always seems to be a valley before the ascent toward the peak can begin.


Written by Written Straw

June 12, 2010 at 5:42 pm

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