It’s been kind of a long few days. I received several sweet comments on my Facebook page after my last post. Yesterday, I was feeling a little pleased with myself when I read something a relative wrote about a conversation we had that had hurt her feelings. Of course, I apologized immediately, but I spent the rest of the day thinking about it.
I don’t need to go into the specifics here. It’s a conversation that took place 20 years ago. I don’t actually remember the conversation, but I do not doubt that it took place. I was wondering if I would have felt better or worse had I remembered. It’s a wonder I haven’t received more messages from people in the last 72 hours, reminding me of hurtful things I’ve said, I’ve been around long enough to inflict a few scars of my own.
Since yesterday, I’ve thought about how much hurt we all deal out, most unintentional, hopefully, but some completely willfully. I do not hold a grudge against the former co-worker that I wrote about on Saturday. If I saw her tomorrow, I would be happy to see her. Some friends conjectured why she would say what she said to me, but really, who knows. I’ve always been a little bit of a brat. To love me is to love me in spite of my occasional bouts of obnoxiousness. I can think of reasons why a person just ultimately may not be a fan of Ray Barnhart. And to play devil’s advocate, I can think of a few reasons why someone would like me, too.
I am sensitive, sometimes overly. Hence, the name of my blog. I’m the kind of guy who would smart for twenty years about a comment he received from a person playing an under 5 in the soap opera of his life. But I am also the kind of guy who feels very bad for hurting the feelings of a loved one, especially someone he’s looked up to since he was a boy.
Her words to me were, guess what, let it go. I need to let a lot of things go. I don’t want to be the kind of person who is remembered for his unkind words.
I’m ending this blog with a video of Amy Grant singing one of her newer songs called, “Come into My World.” It reminds me of the risk involved when we invite someone to know the real us: the insecurities, the arrogances, the cruelties and kindnesses, too. All the messy rooms and scattered pearls.