I’ve hit a wall lately with writing. It isn’t the crippling fear or the putrid bitterness that holds me anymore, instead it’s the one billion mistakes and hurtful choices I made over the last four years that create the wall I can’t seem to scale. I actually have a vision, a hope, but all I can see is crowds of people lined up, throwing stones and shouting “Hypocrite! Liar!”
Most times I feel like Paul. I am the chief of sinners. I recognize this, if not fully, at least with great weight. I am the chief of sinners and the span of relationship screw-ups I’ve generated, the number of people I have shut down, cut off and verbally obliterated would fill the Grand Canyon. It’s these people who whisper foul smelling arguments in my ear – and yes, they are demons of my own design because I have no reason to believe or think that any of them think often, or even ever of me, but their echoes still ring regret in my mind.
Four years is a long time. It’s enough time to begin to shed the skin of a young, idealistic, opinionated thirty something seeing the world in black and white, and to grow a new softer skin of a woman who has both hurt and been hurt, deeply, who doesn’t care so much that she be known for what she stands for as for how well she loves and who has found grace to be the great leveler, taking black and white and swirling it all together into the softest depthless grey. It’s time enough to find remorse, begin to slay your ego and even to make some amends, to realize life isn’t a battle to be won, but a quilt to be pieced together slowly with great creativity and care.
I am the chief of sinners, and when the first stone is thrown and the first accusation levied I will acknowledge the truth of it. Liar? Yes. Hypocrite? Oh indeed…this, this and so much more.
But not just that, not merely that.
Because the quilt of my life, is woven together with this golden thread of redemption. It will not take the pieces and parts and return them to their original state because to do so is to disassemble the work. That’s regression, not redemption. Redemption is the discarding of the old order of things and accepting the new, creation that is evolving gently, as a caterpillar spins its cocoon, into something far more beautiful.