First Thoughts

At first I thought she was saying, “I forgive you”.

Those weren’t her words. The actual words were something about my cross du jour, and then the comment, “you always look so nice on Sunday mornings”.
No one else would have heard anything about forgiveness. Just a compliment, words thrown out to pass the time while waiting together.

But it seemed like forgiveness to me.

The first time we met, a Sunday afternoon, she had laughed about appearing in slacks. It was just a committee meeting, not Sunday morning worship, but mother would be rolling in her grave had she known her daughter was wearing slacks in church. Then on to another topic, passing time together.

I looked down at my pants suit—a suit I had worn confidently in business meetings, the most expensive outfit I owned—but pants. I had noticed ladies wearing skirts and dresses, but thought that surely a nice pants suit was good enough.

Little things, seeing people, hearing people, these are acts of love. My little rebellion, saying I’ll not join in, was really a way of saying you aren’t important to me. I don’t care enough to join in with what is important to you.

A year later, looking for forgiveness, at first I thought she was saying, “I forgive you” with this casual remark about looking nice on Sunday mornings. I was grateful, and so I said thank you, you are kind.

Or perhaps, on second thought, she was asking me for forgiveness. I didn’t know you when we first met. I realize now that you do care about our church.

Or perhaps, she wasn’t saying anything at all, just a pair of unconnected throw-away comments. But I like to think there was forgiveness.