Sometimes, you need to bake a cake

In our culture, we are all about therapy. There's physical therapy, occupational therapy, family therapy. Then, if you want to go a little more abstract, there's music therapy, art therapy, and retail therapy. Ben & Jerry's has a flavor called "Chocolate Therapy."

But I, my friends, remain indisputably impartial to baking therapy.

Some days, you just have to bake a cake. Or brownies. Or cookies. Or, maybe, all three.

Today is one of those days. It's been a good day; it's the end of a very, very good month. But there's an overwhelming amount of life on the horizon coming right for me in the weeks ahead. I'll post more specifics later, and I also owe a post on the unexpected blessings from the past school year (probably good timing to be reflecting on these). But for now, let me just say that sometimes, there are not words to describe how I'm feeling and I need a way to rest and remember that life, in the midst of its messiness, can be sweet.

And the sweetest way to remember that, dear friends, is cake. Bon appetit!

A Night at the Globe: London, Day 6

Tonight, I got to have my quintessential London tourist experience, complete some professional development, and fulfill a childhood dream all at once. I got to see Romeo & Juliet, the Shakespeare play I teach, at the Globe theater as a groundling (the cheap people who stand at the foot of the stage and throw popcorn at the players -- ok, not really the last part, but we technically could have if we wanted). While I was bouncing up and down all the way into the theater and sputtering my excitement to Shelley, I had to slow down long enough to explain that I have loved Shakespeare since 4th grade, when I was in my first "Shakespeare" play (a slightly watered-down version of The Tempest). I have since been in two more Shakespeare productions and seen dozens more, I've taken Shakespeare classes in college, and the favorite unit of both my students and me this year was definitely Romeo & Juliet. This was not just a cool experience for me; it was definitely the culmination of my trip to London.

There was only one small problem: as of this morning, we did not actually have tickets. I accidentally misread the guidebook and believed that you were supposed to purchase "groundling" tickets (the standing-room-only tickets right in front of the stage) the day of the performance, so I did not bother to reserve tickets ahead of time. When Shelley asked me to double-check this two days before our trip, I discovered that the guidebook actually said you could possibly get tickets day of, but only if someone returned them. I was devastated, but Shelley said we should still try to see if we could get the day-of tickets and reminded me several times that if I didn't, I would regret it. So, an hour and a half before the show, we "queued up" in the "return tickets" line (which sounded to me like we wanted to return them, but apparently this was right), and just when we were starting to give up hope, the not-so-friendly ticket lady emerged with two tickets, exactly where we wanted them, at exactly the right price. As the British would say, lovely. (Here's me with my ticket, program, and huge chocolate muffin: ready to go!)


In addition to the incredibly thrilling experience of seeing a Shakespeare play in the Globe, with authentic Shakespearean costumes (made all by hand) and instruments (only the ones that would have been used in his day), not to mention getting to stand on the ground right next to the stage and eat chocolate and drink Diet Coke (ok, not totally authentic but resemblant of the original "carnival" atmosphere), the performance itself was also the best performance of Romeo & Juliet that I have ever seen. The actors spoke incredibly quickly, and transition time was absolutely seemless, which cut down on the length of what can be a very drawn-out and melodramatic performance. The lead actors also did phenomenal interpretations of their characters: Juliet (who was played by a recent high-school graduate) did a very good job of seeming like a naive, hormonal, love-sick teenager; she's often played as this sultry or deeply passoinate woman, when in reality she's thirteen and clueless, so this actress played up her innocence and really got the awkward first-love moments so well that she had the audience laughing out loud at their first encounter and crying by the end. Romeo also managed the teenager role well; normally, by the end of the play, I am so sick of Romeo's whining that I am absolutely ready for him to die, but this particular actor portrayed Romeo's various dramatic mood shifts not as pathetic flights of fancy, but as passions that are unfortunately swayed fairly regularly by unpredictable (but also uncontrollable) hormones. I found myself actually enjoying when Romeo came on stage and sorry when he died -- both probably good signs.

(Shelley just before the show started -- notice HOW CLOSE we are to the stage! The people in front of us were leaning on it!)

When I got back to the apartment where we're staying, one of our hosts asked me if this was "it" for me, and I think the answer is clearly yes. I have loved my time in both London and Paris, but I feel like nothing can completely top this experience. Then again, there is tea tomorrow with scones and clotted cream; I'm a huge fan of cream, so I'll keep you posted.

"A thousand times goodnight...parting is such sweet sorrow."

Youthful Inhibition Unhinged: Back in London

When I was younger, so much younger than today,
I never needed anybody's help in any way.
But now these days are gone, I'm not so self-assured,
Now I find I've changed my mind and opened up the doors.
--John Lennon

I think it's very important to be young.
--Paris Hilton

I was reminded of the two quotes above based on two totally unconnected events over the last few days:

1) I went to the British Library, an amazing collection of literary and musical artifacts ranging from Beowulf to the Beatles. I listened to the Beatles sing "Help" on headphones while reading their original lyrics scrawled on a scrap piece of paper. I also got to see one of the first printed copies of Romeo & Juliet with a different ending...intriguing. Definitely one of the best places to visit in London and reminded me how very much I love the written word.

2) The Paris Hilton quote was given to me by my friend Kim years ago (amazing, by the way), but I thought about it a lot while we were in Paris where, believe it or not, I qualified for a "young person's discount." No, my height did not lead them to believe that I was a child; they actually have a separate price category at virtually every museum and historical site (even the Eiffel Tower!!) for "young persons: ages 18-25". And I thought to myself, this is brilliant! I am in the age group that wants to travel and do all these cool things, but has much less disposable income and is probably more easily swayed to do or not do something based on approximately a $2-$5 discount. What was even more exciting was that Shelley and I did not account for this discount when budgeting for our trip (wasn't mentioned in any of the guidebooks -- apparently Rick Steves is a little older than 25) and if we had gone a year later she wouldn't have qualified, but as it was it worked out perfectly. I think that, for the purposes of this trip, it was very important to be young.

All that to say, though, I feel a little more like John Lennon and a little less like Paris Hilton at this stage of our trip. We entered this trip agreeing that our goal was to get as much as we possibly could out of our short time in Europe, by which we meant seeing and experiencing as many different things as we could possibly fit into as many waking hours as we could possibly handle. And, up until yesterday, we've stayed pretty much true to our intended mission. We have been going 100 miles per hour the whole time, and have been able to see/accomplish an amazing amount in a short time, but I am finally reaching the point at which I have realized that, in spite of being young, I am not invincible. I am not immune to the laws of nature. I am not capable of giving 100%, 100% of the time. I need sleep. I need rest. I need pauses in my day. And for the first 24 hours or so of realizing this, I felt guilty. I shouldn't need to slow down, I figured; it would be a waste of money and time and was surely, at root, just laziness. But I have now slowly come around to the realization that, no matter how old are young, everyone needs down times. That's why there's a Sabbath. That's why even super high-powered executives sometimes take weekends. So I am considering these last few days the "weekend" of our trip. We are seeing, but less. We are walking, but at a slower pace. We are savoring these last few days, enjoying time with my friends Philip and Lisa (the most amazing hosts ever), and getting excited about coming home soon and showing everyone our pictures!

Speaking of which: who wants to come hang out and see all my pictures? I'll be rested enough by that point to give you all the descriptions--in real time. Don't all jump at once, please. There's plenty of time for all of you. :)

A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words: 3 days in Paris

Apologies to my faithful blog readers (and I think I might actually have more than one now -- WOOHOO!): my computer battery died the first night in Paris. The only plug that "worked" in our hotel room was the one in the bathroom. Although I loved the idea of titling a post "blogging from the bathroom," this plug was unfortunately not prepared to handle an American computer. So, after navigating through Paris for 3 days with no internet, no phone, and pretty much no clue how to speak French, we are back in the land of the English speakers, and we survived! And let me add (with just a hint of shock and pride) that not only did we survive: we thrived on very little sleep, lots of pain au chocolat, liiiiiitle cups of coffee, and our ever-incessant drive to see everything in the guide book. (We may have gone a little nuts, but the results are pretty fabulous.)

I am exhausted and there is unfortunately too much to write for tonight. However, this phrase "a picture is worth a thousand words" keeps popping into my head, and although that raises the interesting question of how many pictures I would need to show in a day to substitute for the many, many words I speak, I will push that question aside for now and share with you (drumroll, please...)

"Shelley and Sarah in Paris: A Photo Essay"*

1) Standing inside Notre Dame

2) Beautiful stained glass at St. Chappelle


3) Lovely lady posing along the Seine


4) Napoleon's grave (which is actually a monument, largely to how much he thought of himself)


5) Outside the Centre Pompidou (modern art museum)


6) FIREWORKS at the Eiffel Tower for Bastille Day


7) Chariot of the Sun God rising out of the fountains at Versailles -- hameff? (If you're confused, don't worry. That's the right reaction.)


8) Hall of Mirrors (not to mention chandeliers!) at Versailles


9) Too engrossed in her nutella crepe to notice that I am taking her picture


10) Crepes on a cute Parisien steet = oh, happy day!

*Please note, these are only from my camera, and my camera battery died the day we went to the art museums. These are not indicative of all we did on our trip; just some fun highlights.

"Why does she have to be so high maintenance?!": London, Day 3

For those of you who are now worried: yes, the quotation above came from Shelly. No, thankfully, it did not refer to me. Instead, it referred to the Queen of England herself, who, we discovered today, does not open her house for tours except in the month of August. We did get to see the outside of Buckingham Palace which, as you might imagine, was rather impressive, and rather impressively packed with tourists.

Today was a packed day and, as I suspected, I am having less and less time for blogging (especially given that Shelley now wants us to get up at 7 am -- what???). Some of the highlights, though, included...

1) getting to visit Westminster Abbey again, which was just as impressive the second time as it was the first. I am happily Protestant and have no plans of switching teams any time soon, but I have to say, the Catholics (and, in this case, their close cousins the Anglicans) kick our butts when it comes to beautiful churches.

2) going to the Winston Churchill museum, where Shelley and I disturbed the very proper British museum-goers by laughing out loud at a wall of his most famous quotations. Our favorite: "In Switzerland they had brotherly love, five hundred years of democracy and peace, and what did they produce? The cuckoo clock. "

3) walking around and seeing Big Ben (again, our favorite) and 10 Downing Street, which you cannot actually see. You see a guard and a big gate, but not the President's house. Once again, Britain seems to be a little more protective of their leaders than we Americans.

4) Last, but not least, riding the train to PARIS!!! The train ride is incredible, and I would say more about Paris so far, but I am being whisked out the door for an incredibly packed day of sightseeing. Will try to update more when I get back to our hotel.

For now, let me say that we are safe, tired, but excited. I cannot wait to write more. A tout a l'heure!

0% Chance of Rain: London, Day 2

Lessons I have learned so far on our trip (generally in the category of "things not to trust"):

1) Do not trust the weather report if it says 0% chance of rain. Think instead about what you have heard about London and rain, and assume that it has not suddenly changed its character, or you will be sadly and unnecessarily wet.

2) Do not trust Indian food from the grocery store that comes in a bag. When your travel partner suggests it might be sketchy, listen to her. When it just looks so cheap you don't know how you can pass it up, think about the fact that there are things money can't buy. Like peace of mind. Or stomach.

3) Do not trust people who give vague directions, and, when questioned for more specifics, say something like, "Well, it must be somewhere in there." Really? Must it?

While I leave you to infer all you want about how I learned these lessons, let me say that overall this day has been a success. I have less time to write, but I'm liking this list format, so highlights of the day include:

--seeing the Tower of London, which is actually 20 towers that make up the first castle inhabited by the English royalty. I heard way more detail about executions in a few hours than I hope to hear in the rest of my life (that monarchy was a bloody mess--literally), but the tour guide was very amusing and the place was beautiful, complete with lots of towers (duh) and its own town green. We also got to see the crown jewels, which are very sparkly. Sparkly things make me happy. :)

--attending a church service at St. Paul's Cathedral, which, as Shelley-the-reader-of-the-guide-book informed me, is the 4th largest cathedral in the world, and the place where Princess Diana and Prince Charles were married. It is also the first Anglican cathedral built post-Reformation. Apparently back then it was a lot plainer; now it is covered in beautiful Victorian ornate mosaics and marble sculptures of famous British figures. The service itself contained breathtakingly beautiful choral music, and a much less impressive sermon. (It was from the book of Ecclesiasticus, which is not in a Bible that I own; anyone know anything about it? The primary quotation that the minister focused on, however, was not even from this book but from Daniel Radcliffe, of Harry Potter fame.)

--walking over Tower Bridge, which is HUGE!

--being tightwads and figuring out all kinds of creative ways to save money on meals (although see lesson learned #2...) My favorite was a long baguette and some spreadable cheese, eaten while sitting watching the river Thames flow by. How very quaint.

That's all for now! Sorry for no pictures; I know those are more interesting than my words, and will try to put some up tomorrow! Off to catch a London-by-night bus tour, hopefully full of more sparkly lights and insights into the city.

3 hours of sleep and 1 Diet Coke: London, Day 1

(Proof that after Day 1, Shelley and I have not killed each other. See, we are smiling!)



For those of you who do not know, I love to blog about my trips. It gives me a record of what happened that I can look back on (and it also makes my mom a whole lot less nervous about me being out of contact for weeks at a time). If you hate when people publish the inane details of their lives to the internet, go ahead and skip these posts for the next several days.

Now that I have gotten my ever-necessary disclaimer out of my system, let me just say that WE ARE IN LONDON! We being Shelley and I. We arrived eeeeeeearly this morning after approximately 1 hour of sleep each on our "overnight" flight. (Shelley did not realize the flight was only 5 1/2 hours, so she decided she wanted to talk for the first 2 hours of the flight. I can't sleep on planes anyways, so I was fine with this, but she was not very happy with her decision when she realized mid-flight just how little sleep she was about to get.) We navigated our way through the train/Tube system and found the apartment that a friend of a friend is very graciously allowing us to crash at for the next two nights. (Woohoo for free housing!)

While we arrived in London with a pre-planned, 3 day itinerary complete with labeled guidebook pages (neither of us are very "compulsive" travelers), we quickly realized that we could barely stand upright, much less enjoy moving around the city. So, we took a 2 hour nap (bringing our grand sleep total to 3 hours) and woke up still grumpy, but determined to make the most out of what was by then less than half of a day. First order of business, however, was food -- at this point we had not eaten for 13 hours, and both of us were unable to form coherent sentences because we were still so tired and hungry (and, might I add, much more decaffeinated than I generally am on a day with normal sleep). Unfortunately for us, it was now 2:30, and most places in London are open for lunch from 12-2, and dinner from 6-8. We were solidly in the middle of dining purgatory. After warning Shelley that our friendship might be quickly over if I could not get a Diet Coke STAT, we gave up our search for GOOD food and settled on ANY food, finding a cheap pizza place that, thankfully, sold our favorite caffeinated beverages. We then wandered down to St. Paul's, where we missed the last tour of the day, but got to have a picnic "lunch" and guidebook review session in the gardens behind the cathedral, which were blooming with roses. Absolutely lovely. We're headed back there tomorrow for Evensong and hopefully an organ concert.

After a walk over Millenium Bridge (very cool, but has absolutely no traction in the rain, so it's a good thing there's a handrail or I would have been very closely acquainted with the Thames), we made our way to the Tate Modern art Museum. Neither of us are big art museum afficionados, especially without someone to explain things to us, and probably especially modern art. (At one point, I had to drag Shelley away from a particular piece of art that was a long rope laid out in a particular pattern on the floor. She wanted to know if it was still art if she yanked it. I wanted to not visit the London police quite this soon in our trip.) Nevertheless, it was a worthwhile visit: I got to see several Andy Warhol paintings, which was pretty exciting; I got to see a video of a woman pouring fake blood over herself and rolling around in feathers, which was not so exciting; and I got to see this exhibit, which gave me a new appreciation for art made from every day objects. (What do we call that? Obviously, I probably should have stayed a little longer.)

Finally, it was past 6, so we made our way back to a pub that we had tried to visit earlier and that was recommended in our guidebook. It took us awhile to figure out how it worked (you go up to the bar to order -- who knew?) but once we did, we loved the food and the atmosphere. It was a good find: definitely not a tourist trap, as we were the only people without British accents in the place. We did interrupt a really awkward date when we tried to make friends with some folks so we could share their table; folks, if you're out there, I apologize, but I promise it also makes things less awkward if you at least make eye contact during your meal. Here is an amazing plate full of "bangers and mash" (which tastes much better than it sounds):




And here is the resulting food coma:


Finally, we ended the day with a phenomenal walk all over the city. In under 2 hours, we managed to walk and see Covent Garden (which looks like Quincy Market -- wonder which came first?), Trafalgar Square (which is absolutely beautiful in the twilight with the lights and the fountains), Big Ben, the Houses of Parliament, Westminster Abbey, the London Eye, and some pretty sweet Marriott Hotel that Shelley made us run in to see if they had a public restroom. (They did not.) The walk was great, in spite of the rain; however, I did discover when I got home that either my feet have grown or my sneakers have shrunk, because all of my toes were a lovely shade of "you-cut-off-my-circulation" white. Guess it's flip flops for the rest of the trip!

That's all for tonight. More adventures to come tomorrow. Cheerio!

A Year in Review: Part 1

Warning: This is a very long post. Only read if you really, really feel like it. Or if you really, really love me. See how I just guilted you there? :)

I've been meaning for awhile to write out some sort of reflection on this year, but I kept thinking it was too early and my mind and body were still recuperating. After a full day of wasting time watching CSI (although I do now know five new ways to dispose of a body if the need should arise), I think I am now clearly rested enough to begin reflection. I am a planner: I like to scheme and dream and organize my life well in advance, so one way I like to reflect on things looking backward is to think about the unexpecteds. The unexpecteds is a term I just made up approximately 15 seconds ago to signify the many aspects of life that I did not plan for. If I write about what I planned for, it's, well, kind of boring -- I knew it would happen. If I write about all that I did not plan for, I give myself a healthy reminder of the many ways I am not in control, and of God's provision in the good unexpecteds and comfort in the bad. So, to save the best for last, let me start with...

The Bad Unexpecteds

1) The month of October: The month of October was dreadful. I had been in school long enough to completely exhaust myself, but not long enough to feel like I was getting any better at my job. I also started the year with the added difficulty of believing that because I had heard so many teachers say, "If only I had know x, y, or z my first year," I could avoid all the initial first year teacher woes. I though I had lived through them vicariously. I thought I had learned from others' mistakes. I thought I was the expection. The month of October taught me...I thought wrong. Looking back, I can see how my arrogant drive to succeed where all others had failed (or at least floundered) and my inability to cope with my own shame at being simply average made an inherently stressful time a lot worse for me.

As a result, I am trying to learn from my mistakes, and am already fully expecting to be perfectly horrible (or, perhaps worse, normally bad) at the first year of marriage, whenever it comes along.

2) Disciplining children: I never expected this to be the hardest part of my job, or at least not in the way it was. I did not actually have trouble being strict or issuing consequences when they were well-deserved. My school also helps a lot with that by having a pretty strict and transparent system of discipline. What I had trouble with was figuring out how to issue those consequences. Before this year, disciplining children seemed like a relatively simple formula in my mind: child breaks rule = adult issues associated consequence. What I never considered was the myriad of choices in how to issue a consequence. What tone of voice, how to move toward the student, calling a student out in the middle of class, waiting until after class, speaking loudly, speaking quietly, allowing the student to speak, not offering the student any chance to speak -- all of these are real choices in issuing a consequence, and all of them can be a good or bad choice in any given circumstance. I wasn't prepared to make those choices so frequently and, as someone who likes to find the right way to do everything, I wasn't prepared for how emotionally draining it would be to always be questioning my decisions and wondering if a different choice would have made the situation more instructive, pleasant, easy, etc. And this was not purely overanalysis: at one point, I had a student furious at me for an entire week because he perceived my tone in issuing a consequence as mocking him, when I had been trying to give him the opportunity to laugh at himself for a silly mistake, save face, and move on. I am still not completely at peace with this one, but I am learning to read my students better, and also learning to let go of the times when I do not do things the "right way," especially since this changes depending on each child and day. I have, however, definitely repented of all the times as a babysitter I judged parents and imagined that discipline was easy. God has a sense of humor.

3) Managing time: Somehow, although I was very fairly warned by older and wiser folks, "You will never have as much free time in your life as you did in college," I managed to miss this one coming. This whole year has been a constant lament about the lack of time. I felt like every weekday evening during the school year, I had to make a choice between preparing well for class, doing the necessary adult life tasks (like cooking, cleaning, bill-paying, laundry), investing in relationships, or resting. On a given night, I found, I could really only do one of those fully. (Unfortunately for my roommates, it was usually not cleaning.) Weekends were sometimes worse because, while I would have more time, I would demand more of myself, and then face the bitter Sunday night disappointment and frustration when I had still not accomplished all that I wanted and would have to put things off until the next weekend. Again, I have not figured this one out yet, and would love thoughts. How do I love and prioritize the friends God has put into my life when it feels like there is not time to be a good friend to all of them? How do I make time to do the things that seem the most necessary (like laundry -- clean underwear is a must!) without getting bitter that it is time taken away from people or sleep? How do I rest in the midst of it all? This is probably my biggest challenge going into next year, and one I struggle with even as I face the "unlimited" free time of summer, which is already racing away faster than I would like.

That is all for now. I will try to write the good unexpecteds tomorrow; there are actually more of them. :) I do want to end this part, though, by saying that even in these unexpected pains and challenges, I have seen so much good come. God has shown me so much more about myself and revealed to me more of ways I need to trust in him. Am I good at any of it yet? Heck no! Am I thankful for all the learning? Most of the time not; on any given day, I'd probably try to trade it. But I know deep down that it is for my good, and that I do not want to stay in a place of complacence, so I am thankful for the growing, however painful the process may be.

Forgiveness

About a week ago, I accidentally started following the story of the South Carolina governor's affair. (Seriously -- I am apparently so technologically inept that I was trying to click on a link for another news story and ended up at that one.) Now, I have stated on several occasions that I am opposed to reading news that is pure gossip because, even if the things being said are true, I would not want them published about me unless they serve a higher purpose, and so I should not support them when they are published about others. I can understand that the people of South Carolina need to know their governor was having an affair; I cannot understand why they need to read his letters to his mistress. Unfortunately, I was halfway through this article before I realized that it was not the article I had intended to read, and my heart broke as I read his statements to his mistress...so, naturally, I did the noble thing and continued reading the article. (This blog is nothing if not honest.) After I finished reading the whole article, felt really sick to my stomach, and finally decided I was done with this story and would be giving no more attention to this type of news, I saw a link to a statement from his wife. And of course, I read that too.

Now, thankfully, God redeems mistakes. As I read this woman's statement, I was completely surprised because it was not the typical wife-of-a-politician statement. Heck, it was not a typical statement for anyone. She kept using this word, "repent." I thought, "Hey, I know that word, but I do not usually see it on CNN.com!" I read on and she talked about forgiveness. I was intrigued. And then I read her statement, "We have a good Lord in this world." And I was floored. First, that this woman was giving a testimony of how to deal with an affair as a Christian on CNN.com; second, that she was willing to affirm to the world the goodness of God and her willingness to trust him while it seemed like the world was collapsing around her. I mean, literally, thousands of people (myself included) were reading the gory details of her husband's infidelity as she was speaking. And yet the message she gave was one in which she maintained a firm conviction in the wrongness of sin and an equally firm hope in the goodness of God. She hoped for repentance, she held out a willingness to forgive, and she offered these intimate hopes to a journalist who was shoving a microphone in her face at a time when any sane person in her position would want nothing to do with the media.

Today, the governor's wife issued a second, longer statement. In it, she clearly outlined a biblical view of sin, repentance, and reconciliation. She did not say to the world that "submission" or "forgiveness" means burying your head in the sand about wrongdoing, or being a doormat; instead, she said, "There is no question that Mark's behavior is inexcusable. Actions have consequences and he will be dealing with those consequences for a long while. Trust has been broken and will need to be rebuilt. " While acknowledging the consequences of sin, however, she did not stop there. The statement went on:

"The real issue now is one of forgiveness. I am willing to forgive Mark for his actions. We have been deeply disappointed in and even angry at Mark. The Bible says, 'In your anger do not sin.' (Psalm 4:4) In this situation, this speaks to the essence of forgiveness and the critical need to channel one's energy into positive steps that uphold the dignity of marriage and the family, and lead to reconciliation over time. My forgiveness is essential for us both to move on with our lives, with peace, in whatever direction that may take us.

"Desmond Tutu said 'forgiveness is the grace by which you enable the other person to get up, and get up with dignity, to begin anew.' Forgiveness opens the door for Mark to begin to work privately, humbly and respectfully toward reconciliation with me. However, to achieve true reconciliation will take time, involve repentance, and will not be easy."

As I read her words, I was challenged by her view of forgiveness. So often, I think (and I think most of us thing) of forgiveness as something that happens after -- after the wrongdoer has apologized, after the hurt has subsided, after many years, maybe not until after the victim has taken revenge on the perpetrator. Maybe never. But at least in this statement, Jenny Sanford seems to be offering forgiveness before: before there has been reconciliation, before her husband has moved home, before they have had time to fully process. This is not a forgiveness that is earned. It is a forgiveness that is a gift. Furthermore, it is a gift that, as she claims through the words of Desmond Tutu, is necessary to restore relationship.

While I was marveling at the beauty and grace of her statement, I scrolled down to read the comments from other readers. They were overwhelmingly negative and angry: some at her husband, some at CNN for publishing such gossipy journalism, but most actually at her. Their reasons for anger varied -- her "weak" example of femininity, her suggestion that her husband needed forgiveness at all (after all, who can control when or how you fall in love?), or her stupidity at offering to take him back -- but they all shared in common this anger. And while I was at first taken aback and saddened, I realized that I am angry about forgiveness, too. It is just not fair. It is often not asked for, and it is certainly not deserved. It makes no sense, as these bloggers strongly attested.

But in my heart, I also have to agree with Jenny Sanford -- it is necessary. It is necessary to restore any broken relationships, and to restore one's own heart. In A Grace Disguised, Jerry Sittser talks of his wife's death in a car accident with a drunk driver and comes to the conclusion, "Unforgiveness simply continues the cycle of destruction that begins with the original wrongdoing. Unforgivenss does not stop the pain. It spreads it...It fouls relationships with complaints, bitterness, selfishness, and revenge. Ironically, unforgiveness makes unforgiving people the most miserable people of all, for they more than anyone else must live with the poisonous consequneces of their unforgivess." As much as it is fair, I agree with Sittser -- unforgiveness will not solve the pain. And as much as I hope I never have to be Jenny Sanford, I hope that I could be and can be when I'm hurt. Jenny Sanford says she forgives because God tells her to, and I agree, but I also want to add that he shows us; he forgave us first, although it was costly and unfair.

I'm praying tonight that a few hearts, my own included, might be moved by this story to reconsider forgiveness and to recognize that we need mercy as much as the governor of South Carolina. End of my soapbox. Thanks if you read this far. :)