The Side of the Cereal Box

It’s been eight years.  Eight years ago today, I received an e-mail that bit deeper into my soul than anything ever has.  And whether you know it or not, you’ve been feeling the effects of it.

I fell in love with him.  And he was terrified.  His trust had been brutally betrayed not long before I met him, and he was afraid to trust anyone.  You can’t love someone if you don’t trust them.  But God told me I would see that wall fall.  And I did.  He trusted me with the most vulnerable spot in his heart, and he admitted what I had known for some time - that he loved me, too.

It was downhill from there.

A horrific, life-altering rift opened up in our relationship, and we didn’t speak to each other (or see each other) for several months (per his “request”).  When we did start speaking again, nothing was said of what had happened before.  Life didn’t go on as usual (that whole “elephant in the room” thing).  But I was particularly bewildered by the fact that he was attempting to just go on as if nothing had happened, or as if we were back at …square two, as if months and moments and memories - good and bad - never happened.  It was awkward.

The last time I saw him/spoke to him was more than seven years ago.  He never apologized, and I never brought it up.  I learned my lesson.  My mouth is likely where the blame lies for my part of the relational explosion.  It’s an issue of tact.  I never said anything to deliberately hurt him, but evidently it happened anyway.  And he didn’t say anything until *BOOM*.  By then, there was nothing I could do.  Except try not to make the same mistake again.

So here I am.  Living in fear.  The venomous words contained in the e-mail still ring in my head and color every other relationship I have: they dictate what I say and don’t say, do and don’t do.  I second-, third-, fourth-, and inifinity-guess myself and mostly just hide away under the condemnation of his words.

Something has to change.  But where should I start?

Forgiveness.  Reconciliation?  One article I read a little while back really shifted my thinking on this.  The author said that forgiveness is not required when the offending party is not sorry.  He said God would never ask us to do what he doesn’t do Himself.  Now, while I don’t agree with the first point, the second point got me thinking…

Forgiveness is a gift.  The offender can either receive it (repent) or reject it, but God extends it either way.  I think we must do the same for each other.  But reconciliation cannot happen without repentance on the part of the offender.  Admit guilt, receive forgivness, and then be reconciled.  That’s the formula (if you will).

But here’s the thing…  He and I don’t live in the same state and aren’t likely to see each other again this side of eternity.  (Yes, he’s a Christian.)  So what should I do?  If I’m likely never going to see him again, is there a need to seek him out, dredge all this up, and then “work it out”?  What would the point be?  And is it my responsibility to go to him and say, “Hey!  You hurt me!”?

I have forgiven him.  I think…  But what if I did seek him out, and he wasn’t sorry?  What if he didn’t think he did anything wrong?  Wouldn’t I look magnanimous forgiving him?  So very holy?  He’d hate me for that, too.  …Or he would have eight years ago…  It’s a real struggle to believe that he might have changed.  But is that even a factor?  Is it a requirement?

And believe me, folks, this is not just a theoretical, “what if” kind of situation.  I know where he is; I know how to get ahold of him if the need arises.  The thought of being face-to-face with him again, even after all this time (or maybe especially), is a little bit… daunting, but if it held the promise of healing, I could get over it.  …As long as it was right (done in the right way, for the right reasons).

…I had a dream the other night that he apologized to me - tearfully, earnestly, and even publicly.  There was a mysterious build to it, and I felt myself completely overcome… with disbelief.  It wasn’t that I couldn’t or wouldn’t accept his apology; I just couldn’t believe it was really happening.  …But, then again, I guess it wasn’t.  …But for a little while, I felt better.