“An offering was made because heart wouldn’t allow rest without the attempt.
It wasn’t accepted, but I was, with the caveat that the person hoped I was better, and back to being the person they loved.
Not because the offer wasn’t accepted, but because I’m not defined by someone else’s false worthiness principles of good, bad, better, or worse; and because, if I’m not the person one loves under all those conditions, I’m not the person loved.
Still, none of that was a factor in the offering, nor would it ever be. We must be who we are, regardless of who anyone else is or believes us to be.”
Can the rugs of forgiveness lead to us to knock upon a closed heart?
Yes and No
Those in AA are not the only who take the step of attempting to repair perceived trespasses. There is no definitive formula from person to person, that can identify all the variables that come into play regarding their decision about what can or can’t be resolved through apology in word, action, or prayer.
For some, it can seem impossible to go back to every person or institution one feels to have slighted, if that be their goal. All one can do is play to the strengths of their constitution, because to do less than this, or more, weakens the self. What does that mean?
It means one must be honest with themselves about what they truly hope to gain, or lose through apology, and then prepare themselves for gain or loss according to whatever steps they deem necessary to restore themselves.
“…what good will it be for someone to gain the whole world…?” [Matthew 16:26]
Some things cannot be lost through repentance, and some cannot be gained. There is little talk of this after confession with a priest. Perhaps it is assumed one knows, but if that were the case, there would be nothing to repent for, because all of life would be the acting out of things that are only for our good.
There is the rub. All things are for our good, whether appearing so or not.
No one can define our good any more than they can define what our state of ‘okay’ really means. No one can forgive us any more than we have forgiven ourselves. No one can open their hearts to us any more than we have kept our hearts open for our own development.
The state of reconciliation can’t raise its flag of peace until one travels there to build a home. The rug of forgiveness placed at the heart’s door can’t alternate as a stop sign, lest love be yielded unto itself.
“Do you love me, and is it too late?”
Not once is that question asked without the heart knowing the answer. So why ask?
Because the heart has learned to be so selective that no one has been allowed in, not even the self, and it feels safer to open it only a crack and scream out, as if to remind someone we’re home, that they might ask us to come out and play.
But we’re not home, we’re in an echo chamber filled with ghosts of promise, reverberating along walls so loudly that it’s easier to suffocate beneath the ceremonial insulation of impending oblivion, than to ask for a true spiritual realtor to show us what a real home feels like by welcoming us in.
Don’t accept opinions from others who base your value on the neighborhood your heart happens to be living in at any given moment. Every heart deserves to sit at a table overflowing with loaves of bread, not breadcrumbs others extend as a housewarming gift.