Sunday, April 20, 2014

Almost


I still remember getting the phone call. Shannon had left for Australia for her 3rd year nursing practicum on exchange. A man had entered her life not long earlier. That man had proposed to her and she said yes. It was great to see her happy. She called, mid afternoon in the summer. We cried on the phone as she told me her fiancĂ© had slept with a prostitute. From the first phone call with her, I remember my sister asking the question: “what does forgiveness look like?” 

Who deserves forgiveness? Does this man? How deep does hurt have to run before you can justifiably be bitter? And if you can be justifiably bitter, why would you be? Forgiveness is healing. For this man, for my precious sister. Where would she be if she had never asked that question? What has unforgiveness cost you?
And for myself, who am I to cast blame? I think the more I live the more I learn what I am capable of, and it frightens me. My thoughts aren’t far from this man’s sin. If forgiveness cannot be spared for this man, then where can I find mine? If my God does not ask the same question my sister asks, then I am ruined.

The almost wedding. I am grateful that he confessed, that she is not married to this man. I am grateful that she is currently in a relationship with a man who encourages and spurs her on to be the best she can be. As the years progress, it is also a story of the goodness of God despite times we would rather not experience. As with most valleys we go through in life, as my sister has said, “I would not change that experience.”

For Shannon Joyce, a woman of strong wisdom and character. A woman close to God’s heart of love and forgiveness. My sister.

It was an almost wedding
Not quite but almost, not quite but almost
He could have lied his way through, lied his way through, lied his way through
Til she’d said I do

But how close was almost
When he took to the streets
How close was almost
When he takes back the ring

You’re not who I thought you were not even almost, not even almost

Its hard forgiving the almost, when he had you so close
He drew you so close
But blood had to be shed for the almost
Or I’d have the furthest to fall, I’d be a pillar of salt


You’re not who I thought you were not even almost, not even almost

2 comments:

  1. Hello Derek - thank you for sharing this. Do you mind if I share the link your mom put on FB onto my page? I would like to share it with my kids.

    ReplyDelete