Until I didn't anymore.
Until the questions just became too loud, the assuredness too quiet, the list hopeful exceptions for people I desperately wished entrance though they didn't fit the mold too long.
To me, she is the finest example of what it means to remember from whence you've come. She reminds me to understand their point of view. No matter who they are.
It's the kind of thing that makes me comfortable having my kids address their weakness, while allowing them to freely witness and express mine.
The way I see it, there is no burying them, they will be with us until the end of our moments spent plodding this luxuriously privileged planet. We will labor to subdue our worst, to contain its effects on our beloveds. Try to hide and cover and squelch and reduce them as we may, the poorest, most base portions of ourselves serve to remind us of a glorious truth. We are all connected. To whatever extent in whatever context, we've all been there. Somewhere. If we are brave enough walk all the way into honesty, we've probably all been ashamed of the unthinkable we've actually mustered the audacity to think. We've likely all surprised ourselves in those moments when we've stared our darkest in the mirror. Most of us have probably startled our very own conscience with a terrible, tragic image that's popped into our mind we would like to think was scrubbed clean.
To me, it's a wonderful, liberating reality of exquisite unity. We all need blessed pardon, love that covers a multitude. Because if we afford ourselves the grace and space to be real, the majority of us can freely admit, we've been there too. And that makes us a whole lot easier to be around.
As far as I can tell, if I am able to be like my friend Jen and remember, that used to be/could be/ might be me...I can more generously pardon you as you graciously excuse me.