A Gift

Yesterday, my friend gave me a gift.
A gift that I treasure.
It was the gift of three little words
my stomach was in nervous knots
I was dreading hearing from her.
And yet her reply,
so gracious,
so beautiful.
Her text message to me read simply:

"I forgive you."

I cried.
It had taken me days
to work up the courage to tell her
what I needed to tell her,
and even then I was a coward
couldn't tell her on the phone,
so instead I sent her a text message
confessing what I had done.
She got back to me about a minute later.

"I forgive you."

It made me wonder
why I hadn't just told her
when it was first on my heart to do so,
or why I hadn't simply told her
when I had talked to her maybe thirty minutes prior on the phone.
The gut wrenching fear that I had screwed up too badly
and she wouldn't even want to acknowledge that I had ever been her friend.
And yet when I said "I'm sorry"
the gracious words that came from her immediately were:

"I forgive you."

She never told me
that she was angry,
disappointed, or upset,
even though she may have been all of those.
Instead, she chose to give me a gift
a gift that offers restoration.
I had tripped, and fallen
She knelt down and took my hand
lifting me back up to her.

"I forgive you."

So then why is it
that I myself
have so much trouble
offering this wonderful gift to others?
It is more blessed
to give, than to receive
if it is so amazing to be a recipient of forgiveness
it must be even more amazing
to offer it to others.

"I forgive you."

Realizing that I need
this gift from others
so often,
why is it so hard
to turn around and give the same gift to others?
The people in my life
are all so precious.
Which means that when they have hurt me or wronged me,
I want to be able to say:

"I forgive you."