Woe! It’s Wednesday: The Golden Rule

I’ve told my husband on several occasions, “Remember when you did that bone-headed thing and I didn’t give you a hard time about it? Well, it’s not because I’m so patient and forgiving. It’s because so that when I mess up, I’ll receive the same grace and mercy that I’ve extended.”

That is how I treat most wrongs I’ve received, both from friends, family and strangers. I’ve counted on God to see that I’ve always (mostly) been kind and gracious and figured that when I did something unthinking or rude, that my past grace would be taken into account and I’d get a freebie (i.e. forgiveness).

Nothing ticks me off more than to have someone whom I’ve forgiven and reconciled with continually dredge up my misdeeds. Usually it’s my husband and I just have to remind him that we’ve had to replace whole cars when he made a mistake. So far, the worst automotive mistake I’ve made cost us a new tire.

I still think grace and mercy are good things. But as I get older, I’m less inclined to be all that forgiving.

I’ve never been a fan of scrambled eggs. About ten years ago, I declared that I’d eaten my limit of them. I believe everyone is allotted so many scrambled eggs to eat in their lifetime. When I reached my allotment, no more could pass my lips.

I’m wondering if forgiveness is like that. If I’ve been given a finite amount of grace and forgiveness to bestow. Am I reaching my allotment any time soon? Do I need to start parceling it out only to close family members?

I’m not bringing this up because I’ve done anything recently that requires a mountain of forgiveness. But I know I could. I’m only one thoughtless word or one inattentive moment from messing up royally.

I sure hope that the person I inevitably hurt still has some of their grace allotment left to bestow on me.

And I’m so grateful that God’s allotment is never ending.

Do I hear an “Amen”?

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