Forgive My Absence, Part 1

On Friday, I contracted a plague of Egypt. Fever. Cough. Bad mood.

Today (writing this Tuesday afternoon while I cook a Fat Tuesday feast), the fever is gone, but my breath is short. My poor She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed has been sick right alongside me, and my older midgetfemmebots helped a lot. I’ve been blessed by God by being open to life (for most of our marriage, if I’m being honest) with six children born alive and two already praying for us.

He has healed us from that pain, but the scar of death will always be with us I suspect. In fact, I’ll very likely heal from this, but the scar from lost wages, missed workouts, etc. will always carry forward with me.

Sin is the same way. We can heal from it (call your priest and ask him, he’ll confirm it). But the stain from that sin is lifelong. Just because God has forgiven me for my sins, BIG and small, doesn’t mean that the people I have sinned against have to forgive me. If they are Christian, they should, but should does not equal must.

Beyond that, temporal sin (such as mentioned in Psalm 51), clings to our souls like tar to our skin. It can be cleaned off, but it takes special equipment.

I’m too tired to finish right now.