East to West

I had a blog post completely typed out. Someone frustrated me; no, hurt me the other night and I wanted to vent about it, so I did. But it's one thing to vent and another to share all of that with the world (okay, so it's not as if hoards of people are reading this, but you know what I mean). And so I hit delete.

There's no need to go into the story. Let's just say there were tears, and the pain came from someone close to me (not Dan). It's been sort of an ongoing story and I don't think it's going to go completely away anytime soon.

After I'd gotten out some tears the other night, I decided to take a drive to clear my head before picking up something from the store. The sun was setting. The air was that gloriously pleasant, cool, breezy-type so common of almost-summer evenings in New England. I rolled down the windows and decided to really breathe; to think without my emotions overtaking me and to think outside of myself.

I crested over a hill on a road that winds past tobacco fields and up to a flat stretch of land common to our area (which is why the airport is nearby). The sky was in that wonderful moment of purple, pink and blue...puffy clouds stretched across; shadowy and magnificent. The sky overtook everything.

I kept thinking of something a friend told me recently. She was outside and could hear and feel God speaking. She could feel as if He was cupping her face in His hands and saying, "See this? This is how much you think I love you." He stretched out His hands to the left and right, as far as the eye could see, and said, "THIS is how much I love you." Not only that, but that is how much He is asking us to love others.

"As far as the east is from the west," I found myself whispering out loud, as I drove transfixed by the sky. I knew I had to forgive. He says to forgive my enemies. How will I ever do that if I get stuck on minor wounds by people who are on my side, even if they don't always completely act like it?

I know that sometimes forgiveness is a choice, and we don't have to feel something to forgive. But in that moment, when I chose to forgive, I was flooded with compassion. I suddenly saw with another set of eyes. God's eyes. I saw for a fraction of time both the beauty and hurt within this person. And I tasted the joy of being able to let it all go.

This won't be the last time I struggle with this person. I won't always have sunset epiphinies of this nature, but I've gotten a little taste of something I don't want to let go of. It's easy to say the words and so much harder to live them, but I have to anyway:

I want to see the way God sees. And love the way He loves.

If we could get that down, how much different would each of our little worlds be?