Calling the kettle black

I seem to be thinking a lot about forgiveness at the moment.  A few days ago I posted an article which was loosely about this.  It is hard to forgive yourself when you’re still knotted up about what ever it was that got the better of you.  We are often our own worst enemy.

Doctor where?

Since (just after) the beginning of time, people have had a propensity to hurt themselves and others by what they do.  This varies wildly by degrees.  From genocide, murder, rape at one end of a continuum to being ignored at a party at the other.  It’s easier to let go of some things than others.

What got me started on this particular train of thought was a trip to the doctors, which failed to happen.

I arrived in good time, registered myself and went to sit down.  It was supposed by a “talking therapy” session, which would last an hour.  I was feeling better and wasn’t completely sure I needed to be there.  It was also going to eat into the morning and there were plenty of tasks waiting for me at work.  Anyway, I figured it was probably time well spent just to close things off nicely.

08:20 came and went.  I dozed.

08:25.  Doctors are normally bang on time first thing in the morning.

08:30. Odd.

08:35.  Okay, I’m out of here.

I was kinda ticked off, but not massively so.  On the way out I stopped at the receptionist’s desk to let them know I was leaving.  Irritated, but not so you’d know.  As the receptionist started to check the details, had I knocked the door etc, my shoulder demon started muttering.

No, I hadn’t knocked because I figured I would be called by name, as normally happens.  No, don’t bother calling him, I’m late enough for work as it is.

As I was making my way to the bus the muttering from my shoulder continued.  “How dare he!  He was probably in there checking his facebook or something.  He should have kept an eye on the time so the previous appointment didn’t run over so much.  How rude of him!”.

The bus came, I got on, sat down and tried to get my thoughts back on track.  I’m not having another hulk day.  A different voice, more like a small whisper in the back of my mind, reminded of some of the prayers I’ve said for those close to me when they’ve been having hard time.

“What was the prayer?”

“Lord, be the wind in their sails?”.  But the doctor he ..

“.. doesn’t deserve that?”

Hmm ..

Pot, kettle, black.

It’s been said that we all screw up from time to time.  We’ve all missed the mark one way or another.  It’s been said don’t judge other people in case you get judged yourself.  How often have I been late to meet a customer at work?  More than I’d like to admit.

I read somewhere that holding a grudge is like having someone live in your head rent-free.  They rattle around, take the last biscuit, keep you awake a night and generally outstay their welcome.  The sensible solution seems to be letting them out.

I still didn’t feel like letting Dr. Late-with-no-excuses off the hook, but I’d a feeling I had backed myself into a corner.  I rolled my inner eyes and muttered a non-committal, “Fine.  I forgive him.”.  Something seemed to break free inside me and felt better towards Dr.  Probably-had-a-good-reason.  I ran the one-liner through my mind again and thought to myself, “Yeah, God, be the wind in his sails today.  If he was that late, he probably needs a hand with something.”

“Ata boy.”


Image credits:

Pot calls kettle black – Timothy Neesam

Holding a grudge – Why we flourish

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