It is, every day, a reconciliation. An understanding that I will never have enough to give, but what I give must be enough. Reliance on grace to fill in the gaps, faith that one step and then another leads me somewhere, or through somewhere, or nearish somewhere.
I say lots of I’m sorrys, but I still work on repentance, to literally and figurative turn, and in so turning, view my wrongs, my sins, where I have taken from another, or not given what I ought. For not listening. For not being present. For taking my anger at and lobbing it full force at my husband’s heart, saying, “Take this. I can’t. It’s yours.”
I’m sorry is not an apology. It is a placeholder, a glib acknowledgment on my part, that just as soon as these wounds heal, just as soon as I find a minute, just as soon as everything is perfect, I’ll turn, and I’ll view you, really see you, and give you what it is you need, from me.
Most Merciful God, I confess that I have sinned against you, in thought, word, and deed, by what I have done, and by what I have left undone. I have not loved you with my whole heart, I have not loved my neighbors as myself. I am truly sorry, and I humbly repent. For the sake of Your Son, Jesus Christ, have mercy on me and forgive me, that I may delight in your will and walk in your ways, to the glory of your name. Amen.