SEVEN TIMES SEVENTY

I'm sorry, I got tired of the little bottle-brush birds flying around the mountain peaks - and variety is the spice of life... right? Of course, this coming from someone who epitomizes routine tastes & habits is just slightly absurd.

I heard a song today that bothered me. I (speaking on habits) keep a Sirius radio station going in the background almost all day. I have an annoying habit of breaking out into song while working around the house if there is no other music. I will not even attempt to classify my noise as music, but there it is.

So after bursting numerous vases and mirrors, I decided that my milieu would be safer if I had someone/something else doing the singing here. So the music keeps me quiet... most of the time.

But (back to the original song) the tune playing this morning had lyrics something on the line of "It's Too Late To Say I'm Sorry."

Now I know we all (and this is directed to us women - men, you can just skip this paragraph and significantly lower your blood pressure) have at one time said (or very loudly THOUGHT) "Honey (addressing the male significant other in our lives/hair/situation), that 'sorry' is just a little too late - go take a flying leap into (enter your personal colorful metaphor)"

But I don't think a true, honest apology can ever be too late.

My husband had forwarded a Robert Kirby column (Salt Lake Tribune) to me today. Here's the excerpt that hit home with me:

My conscience, which on a good day could easily fit under a contact lens, got the better of me. I started thinking about what a jerk I'd been to someone who really hadn't deserved it…. (and) I finally apologized for what I had originally said that made her cry. In doing so, I actually made her cry again.

Forgiveness was not immediately forthcoming. I had to listen to the specifics of her pain, which took the better part of an hour and left me feeling worse. In the end, she promised to try and forgive me.

But I had done what I needed to in order to make it right. It was a good lesson to learn, even if it hurt.

We all leave a trail of pain as we go. For most it's a thoughtless footprint here and there. For others it can be a deliberately trampled swath of agony extending to the horizon. Insult, injury, utter devastation, human beings tear each other up in a variety of ways. Worse, we tell ourselves that old business partners, ex-spouses, former friends, new enemies and even just those we casually dismiss deserved what we gave them.

The tough part is apologizing when you know it won't be received well. But sometimes the tougher an apology is to make, the more necessary it probably is. There's no guarantee of forgiveness from those we've hurt, but there's no better season to ask for it.

I think the true test is in the forgiving.