say the words (please, please)

Underneath my plate of Cheetos, grapes and cheddar popcorn, my sweaty hands fidgeted while I waited for the nearest chance in five years to say -- in person -- what I'd been praying and hoping and wishing to say to an old, estranged friend: 

"I'm sorry."

Five years of attempting to apologize, to connect with someone I'd hurt. A half decade of dialing this person's phone number, and it going straight to voicemail. Five years of unacknowledged emails. Five years of silence.

At the start of those five years, I felt affronted that my estranged friend would keep me two relational time zones away. After all, we'd hung out all the time in school. We were tight! An awesome, mutually beneficial, and loyal friendship withered to nothing.

 

But I remember,  after a particularly difficult conversation with this person, pridefully ending the call and declaring to myself, "I don't plan on reaching out to him ever again."

And I didn't. 

 

And my friend never called me again. That was that. 

Pride: it will rot the heart from the inside out.

Dry rot

With time, I had a humbler, clearer understanding on the mess I'd breezily created, and then left behind. It was part of my larger life direction that needed rerouting; it took me time to realize that God wished differently for my life. I began retroactively thinking of the people I had stepped on. Then a long, arduous road of repair, recovery, resurgence, and rejoicing took place. A dear friend referred to it as "one by one, those old clouds dissipating from your life."

I had forgiving to dispense, and forgiveness to seek.

[[Related tangent: One of my most appreciated songs of the past couple years is TS' 'All You Had To Do Was Stay.'  Sure, it's an ear worm. But there's deep roots below the pop sheen veneer. 

Its lyrical core describes an estranged relationship between two people who used to be close, a long time ago. One person who'd had taken the other for granted (but now might regret it), and one person who was taken for granted (and now might know it).

The reason I appreciate this song is because -- depending on the situation -- I've been one of both people. Maybe you have too.]]

So: five years after my starting this mess, this old friend and I were both attending at a mutual acquaintance's engagement party.

In the five years of trying to right this wrong, I'd come to bump up against some unmoving, yet grace-filled, requirements of forgiveness:

 

a) an apology should be unconditional, with no strings attached--

 

b) an apology should be specific, 

 

c) there's this encouraging word about forgiveness, 

 

d) whenever possible, the size and mode of the apology should be at least match the size and mode of the offense (i.e. if I were to hurt someone with something I said out loud, apologizing out loud is what's needed. Apologizing via text message, or DM, or through a friend isn't enough).

I wanted to apologize because I knew it was what my friend rightfully deserved. It was what I owed. Time, maturity, and the Lord did much to get my head straight.

Thankfully, I looked him in the eye, apologized for what I did, the mess I willfully made, and how I had been. My friend apologized too, and we smiled, and hugged. 

 

That was that.

It was a relief to turn that heavy, heavy page.

Who's out there to whom you owe an apology? 

 

What faces, or smiles, come to your mind as you read this? 

 

If you're trying to reach out to correct a past wrong of yours, but you're being stiff-armed, keep pursuing the chance to apologize.

 

It's worth it, regardless of how they receive it.

 

We've all been there, on both sides of the apology.

"Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you." -Ephesians 4:32