Maybe it was on the playground. On the small metal chairs of Sunday School.  A television Disney movie. I can’t be sure, but I had the misdirected impression that forgiveness was a wrongdoing taken off the hook of accountability. It never sat well, and rightly so, I suppose. For me, it’s a lesson I keep learning. And it changes in each situation. The common thread is always the same — what am I going to do?

Recently visiting a smaller village, I was excited and surprised to see the L’Occitane store. I needed to reload on my favorite hand lotion. I picked it off the shelf and handed it to the clerk to ensure my decision. Yet, when I opened the bag in the car, the car that took forever to find, in the 100 degree heat, it had been replaced with a different scent. There were several audible sighs and “c’mons”… The oh, how she had wronged me, was larger than necessary. I squeezed a bit on my hands. Of course it’s a great brand. Of course it smelled very nice, just not what I had requested. I don’t know if it was five minutes. I know the air conditioning was calming. I said out loud, “I’ve decided this is my favorite.” 

This is not admirable. I was simply saving myself the heartache. Is that forgiveness? This letting go?

I want to be like the oils in my painting. There is a satisfying speed to acrylics — a quick dry — an ending, a solution of sorts. Oils will not do that, but what they do offer is a melding. A change of mind. Of heart. They will work with you through every decision. They allow you to return to the canvas and say, “maybe it should be like this…” 

I know the furious speed we are all living in, trying to get to all the answers, trying to right every wrong (of others). But maybe it’s all about the working through, the working with, the changing, the deciding, the letting go — maybe that’s when the beauty comes. My malleable heart awakens and says, “Today could be my favorite.”