forgiveness

I hear the word in the hallover and over again.Suicide.Suicide.Suicide.Did he or didn__ he?Everyone__ got a guess.Still no one knows for sure, except Gabe, but he__ not talking. Why does it even matter? He__ gone. His, ours, theirs_ blame needs a place. His, ours, theirs_ pain all over the place. His, ours, theirs_ forgiveness missing from this place.

God may forgive you if He chooses, but not I. Au revoir.

People that hurt others, only act on a pain they feel themselves.

Forgiveness of sins is great, but I'd rather have the ability to quit doing the things I keep needing forgiveness for.

We don't think of ourselves as 'unforgiving' or 'bitter'- those words imply that we are somehow personally responsible. We prefer to talk about how deeply we have been 'hurt', implying that we are merely helpless victims. Are those who have been deeply wounded destined to live damaged lives? Or is there real healing for deep hurt? I say there is. . . .We've also deceived ourselves into believing that we can love and serve God and be 'good Christians,' while failing to forgive. When are we going to get honest?

As long as we share our stories, as long as our stories reveal our strengths and vulnerabilities to each other, we reinvigorte our understanding and tolerance for the little quirks of personality that in other circumstances would drive us apart. When we live in a family, a community, a country where we know each other's true stories, we remember our capacity to lean in and love each other into wholeness. I have read the story of a tribe in southern Africa called the Babemba in which a person doing something wrong, something that destroys this delicate social net, brings all work in the village to a halt. The people gather around the "offender," and one by one they begin to recite everything he has done right in his life: every good deed, thoughtful behavior, act of social responsibility. These things have to be true about the person, and spoken honestly, but the time-honored consequence of misbehavior is to appreciate that person back into the better part of himself. The person is given the chance to remember who he is and why he is important to the life of the vi

Katherine is the master of anger; she dominates anger. She takes anger in her hands and twists its neck, ripping its head off. She throws anger against the wall and stomps it to death. Her voice rises, it changes, it conjures up ghosts and cusses in a spitting Irish brogue. Then, when she's tapped out empty, she picked anger up between her a thumb and a forefinger and carries it outside and drops it in the trash. On her way back, she scoops up forgiveness like a bouquet, sniffs it deep and arranges it in a vase. She sets forgiveness down, shining in the middle of everything.

Forgive is the last best thing i can do.

Abraham had eight sons--not one. All eight sons bring something to the table. Abraham loved all of his sons. He was a good father who made sure all his sons were literate, of good character and shared a common ideology with their father, Abraham. Abraham did good. Where did we go wrong?pg 54

Forgiveness is a process that we have to learn to act upon daily. Anger is weakened by forgiveness. When you forgive, you free yourself from carrying around the torment that the offense has caused you.

People are already disappointed by their acquaintances, they can not handle anymore hate from stranger, so show some instantaneous kindness and forgiveness to them.

A man can forgive all manner of faults in beautiful women that in ugly men he find entirely beyond sufferance

... I have dreams of you too, Mariam jo. I miss you. I miss the sound of your voice, your laughter. I miss reading to you, and all those times we fished together. Do you remember all those times we fished together? You were a good daughter, Mariam jo, and I cannot ever think of you without feeling shame and regret. Regret_ When it comes to you, Mariam jo, I have oceans of it. I regret that I did not see you the day you came to Herat. I regret that I did not open the door and take you in. I regret that I did not make you a daughter to me, that I let you live in that place for all those years. And for what? Fear of losing face? Of staining my so-called good name? How little those things matter to me now after all the loss, all the terrible things I have seen in this cursed war. But now, of course, it is too late. Perhaps that is just punishment for those who have been heartless, to understand only when nothing can be undone. Now all I can do is say that you were a good daughter, Mariam jo, and that I never deserved you. Now all I can do is ask for your forgiveness. So forgive me, Mariam jo. Forgive me, forgive me. Forgive me...

It is easy to say the word forgiveness but the challenge is to live the word forgiveness.

But besides that I was of an unforgiving disposition from my birth, slow to take offense, slower to forget it, and now incensed both against my companion and myself.

Be happy by forgiving or forgetting or doing both, but we can gain no happiness by holding grudges.

Don't focus on her hiss. Remember her purr.

God has given you grace. Maybe you should give yourself some too.