Someone, or a life of someones, taught me that if the worst of how you treat someone else represents how you’re capable of treating anyone. Anyone, even your beloved, even the saints among us. It’s the rock bottom, yes, but your sins and good deeds don’t average out so you can ever justify it, ever write it off, ever say, “that’s not me–I wasn’t myself that day.” Except, I want to give an exemption for the temporarily insane or chemically unbalanced. But for those of us without those conditions, there’s no excuse. Not the way that person treated you first, not the extreme stress you were under, not your upbringing, personality traits, nothing. The only way is to confess and repent, and walk the hard road of learning to love in those hateful moments. The confession has to be sincere, not dependent on the way or whether it is received, the repentance has to involve a true walking in the other direction, not saving that type of act as part of the future repertoire. And the work toward developing new ways of dealing with that same type of temptation, difficulty, or conflict has to start. You have to die to the old ways, go down and die. A descent into the waters of death, again not expecting rebirth. Just a walking through the dark curtain, placing yourself in the hands of the maker. Not knowing if things will get easier.
I wrote this October 27th, the day before I heard anything about the items mentioned in the post I published yesterday, and before the CBC special today on saying “I’m sorry”. I wrote it thinking of someone else, how I’d like to pass on this same lesson to them as they grow, so they can have good patterns established when young that will help them later on in life. Then I realized that it’s time for me to review and apply it more thoroughly first. For, say, ten more years at least.