To know — just to know — that where I’ve sought man’s forgiveness, I’ve received it.
Because, in truth, I feel a failure. Can you fail at seeking forgiveness? I don’t know.
But I do know this: It IS a costly gift, the most costly. To give or receive. The gift that, given truly and completely, takes the giver’s heart with it, tears it out. And who am I to ask such a thing?
Perhaps, though, we’re not meant to finish forgiveness with our flesh intact.
But I can’t expect. I can only hope. Because I know. It’s the most costly gift.
Still, it’s the one I know I’d never return or exchange.
Because it costs too much.
Everything.