Finding Forgiveness One Christmas

by Dave.

I know that in the heat of summertime, Christmas can seem far away, but time marches on and soon the Christmas music and decorations will appear.

This is an intensely personal story, but one I feel might help someone. When I worked at the Christian Service organization, they initially provided room and board. That meant I would have a place where I was assigned. Sometimes I would have a roommate for a while, and other times I would have a room to myself. It was one of those roommates that provides the story for today.

While I can't go into details here, to say he was difficult would be an understatement. I was, to be frank, treated like trash garbage. In the process, I was subject to a wide range of emotions like upset...depression...frustration. I admit I did not handle it well at times, and I had a hard time praying about it. I had been sharing a space with him for over a year now, when God began to work on my life. He was showing me He was using this experience to bring me more into the image of His Son, and that nothing is wasted in His economy. Ouch - I was the one who needed to change. I began to see him through the eyes of Christ...as hard as it was.

Little changed on his part, but eventually he was told by the leadership to either 'shape up or ship out." He chose to leave. The night before he left, I had gotten a pizza and some mint chocolate ice cream - two of his favorite foods for us to share. The next day, his parents had driven down from Pennsylvania to help him move. Inbetween moving, his dear, sweet mom pulled me aside and spoke very kindly to me. She said that "she knew it had been a hard time for me and she was sorry." She then thanked me for whatever I had tried to do. Tears filled my eyes...

I don't recall him saying anything as he left, but it didn't matter - his mom had said it all and that was enough. Months had now gone by, but I heard nothing from him. But that Christmastime, a card from him appeared in my mailbox. I wasn't sure I wanted to open it. Did I need to handle it with asbestos gloves? I opened it, and tears came as I began to read;

"Please forgive me..."

It was forgiveness offered and forgiveness given as I wrote him back. We exchanged cards for a few years until I didn't hear from him any longer. A few years ago, I typed his name in on Google and was shocked to read his obituary. He had died at a fairly young age. But, in the meantime, he had given me the best gift that Christmas:

The gift of forgiveness.

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About the Writer

Dave grew up in beautiful upstate New York and spent nearly 10 years in DC. Now he lives in South Carolina. He is another "your other brother" who believes in the power of encouragement to others (thanks, in part to his experiences) He has been to 49 states and seen the 50th.