I sent my husband a sharply worded text.
What did you do … ?
I was annoyed. He was to blame.
I could feel a cold coming on — my throat
sore, my ears congested.
I wasn’t inclined to be generous.
He responded to my text, defensively.
The subtext of his words was, “You just
hurt me.”
My silence in response meant, “I don’t care.
You messed up.”
(I’m a pro at passive aggressive.)
It didn’t take long, though, before I felt
the twinge.
It began in my heart.
Like God’s finger plucking one central string.
And that string reverberated.
Throughout me
And my soul.
Tolling like a church bell.
This hurts, hurts, hurts …
I texted him back.
“I’m sorry.”
And caught him later in person.
“I’m sorry. Are we okay?”
The face he made. His sheesh of a grin,
meant yes.
The harp of hurt quit playing.
What relief. What peace. What freedom.
Do these words resonate?
Has your heart’s chord been plucked?
Has the church bell tolled throughout
your soul?
I’m betting it has.
It’s so human, to yell when we’re pinched.
Strike back harder.
Hurt others from our hurt.
“God does not allow us to feel right when
we do wrong,” said Dr. King.
God knows our hurt.
God knows our soul.
God turns us to the work of healing.
Repairing is hard and heavy,
complicated
and layered.
It’s personal. And institutional. And national.
And systemic.
And necessary.
We get defensive:
I’m not apologizing for the sins of my ancestors!
The church bell tolls.
We refuse to recognize our benefits
from others’ harm:
I’ve worked hard for all I have!
The church bell tolls.
We excuse ourselves:
It’s too late and too complicated.
The church bell tolls.
Pride can harden our hearts.
But the church bell will still
toll and toll and toll …
Until we turn to the work our soul requires.
Until we acknowledge and apologize for hurt and harm.
Until we invest – time, energy, resources –
to heal the people and the planet,
and ourselves.
The church bell tolls for me, for you, for us.
And our flourishing.
For relief. For peace. For freedom.
What can I … ?
What should I … ?
Will you, with me?
