No Take-Backs

Regret is a heavy emotion. Maybe even heavier than sorrow- I have that too. Both are wrapped up in one kettlebell that I carry along everywhere I go. Sometimes I allow myself to put it down, but then I trip over it, so I’ll pick it up again and trudge along. There are days I drag it behind me with a chain of self-loathing. 

WHY? I yell at myself outloud. It’s just me here so I can yell at myself as loud as my voice will let me, but in my head it’s even louder. Pounding pounding pounding. From the inside I’m banging on the walls of my head and my heart...why...whywhywhy was I so stupid? Stupid and stubborn and selfish. Why?  

In my irrational and so very idiotic way I erased a friendship that I should have nourished. 

I had nourished it before. So much love and prayer and time...but then I felt forgotten, unappreciated and unneeded. Boy was I wrong. I had no idea how much the little effort that I had given at the beginning had meant to them, until it was too late. 

How can you mend a broken friendship? The hurt in their words when I didn’t recognize their cry for help cut me to the core. Deservingly. I needed my heart to be opened up. I just hate that it hurt someone in the process. 

Initially I wanted to punish them. Take them out of my sight. It hurt to know their promises weren’t going to be answered and that made me want to put that friend in their place. Punish them for not doing what they said they would and make me a priority...who am I to decide whether or not I should be a priority in someone else’s life? I had no idea what they were going through and the last thing they needed was to put my feelings on their list, much less as an item of importance on it. 

When the text came in I didn’t recognize the number. My heart said, “This is HUGELY important, don’t mess this up!” I wracked my brain trying to remember who’s number it was...I knew it, I just couldn’t think why…

Finally, with as much compassion I could put in a text, I asked who it was. 

Then my heart sank at the response. 

I blew it. I was a priority after all or they wouldn’t have come to me. The one that used to fix things. The one who had the answers that made them feel better and gave them hope. How could I have been so wrong? Why did I fail them when they needed me the most? Oh how I wished to take that moment back and do it over!

The days and months that followed were cordial, but not what they should have been. All the good that I had done before was erased. I couldn’t repaint that picture. That beautiful picture of real love and honesty. Friendship.

Grace and hope and GOD had been painted by Him with my hands; now ruined by the tears of my pride, and their pain. Grievously it was smeared with shame, distrust, sorrow and regret. 

I went to work though. I did. I hit my knees and started picking up the pieces. The huge, heavy pieces that were hard to fit back where they had been. But it was too late. 

Sure, the pieces were put back. But they didn’t ever fit right again. Some of them had crumbled around the edges. Others had huge cracks that couldn’t ever be filled, but I worked to make right as best I could, but the mortar felt fake. 

Now I wonder if I had worked hard enough. No...I’m sure I didn’t. It’s hard to pour your whole self into a repair when you aren’t whole. When you’re slopping through the darkness of regret sometimes you want to plop down in it, let it seep in and get all over you.

I tried to shake it off and put some on my friend. Surely some of it was their fault. But no. It was all mine. 

Now, I have to make the decision to live with it or not. The damage is done. Repairs are finished-as much as they can be. So, it’s up to me to fix that searing cut across my heart.

There is only one cure. One fix. Only one surgeon that can make it disappear. Am I ready to let go of this regret? I don’t want it to happen again…

Yes. I’m ready. 

I’ve graciously been forgiven for my horrid action. Now, it’s time to forgive myself. I won’t forget, but I need to move on. 

I need to paint a new picture. Start over with a new brush. The colors will be more vibrant because of what I’ve learned. The strokes will be more intentional, focused and planned. No more flippant strokes of dark. No- every placement has to be precise, thoughtful and thorough. This time, erasing is not an option. There isn’t a cover up. No matter what, I want the true colors to come through and I don’t want to start over ever again. 

Being forgiven is an amazing light that fills my soul and pours out through everything I do. This time my work begins with thankfulness. I’m thankful for the reconciliation I had with my friend. I’m thankful to know they are whole. Thankful that they aren’t affected by regret. Thankful for forgiveness. 

It hurt me to say “I don’t know you”. 

How much worse to be told that than to say it…

Today, my picture has me wrapped in my friends arms as they welcome me through Heaven’s gates. As my body shakes with the sobs that finally release from my soul, it’s cleansing to know that all the repairs will be complete and more beautiful than I could ever imagine as He uses me and I allow Him to brush each stroke of my life, working with Him on my final piece. 

I am forgiven. Therefore I’ll never be told “...’I never knew you….’” Matthew 7:21