Forgiving

MY FLEDGLING CAREER as a Presbyterian church visitor rests on tenuous grounds.This, aside from my lifelong aversion ot the Christian religion, owing to what I perceive to be its irrational, lunatic barbarity. I took a quick peek at the official Presbyterian handbook, or whatever thay call it. The rules of the game, so to speak. Clearly, all church officials, clergy and assistant clergy, are called upon to provide a welcoming environment for all congregants. Warm and affectionate clerical behavior always, as I read it. Accordingly, one of my best friends, in and out of church, is on the clerical staff, with the formal title of "liturgist". Not only do he and I attend the same church, we patronize the same senior center, dining there daily. We have known each other about ten years. He seems to have a man crush on me, respects and admires me, for whatever weird reason, and has often bought lunch for me around town. (I need to return the favor). My complaint about him is that he, as a church leader, isn't provinding a warm and friendly atmosphere, not for me. Rather, he treats me with a certain dismissive coldness. Upon further reflection, I think I may know why, just guessing. I suspect that he wants more from me as a friend, emotionally, than I have ever given him. Ironic, since I am an immensely emotional person, kind, and loving. (so said my mother). Ask my cats. Ask my mother, who art in heaven. Ask anyone who knows me well. "Poor fellow who is all head", said Goethe. Who could disagree? I am called upon from within, impelled by my essential being, by my dead parents and by my upbringing, to take the high road, to turn cheek and proceed to inundate this fellow with love, kindness, and friendship. All too soon, when I lay upon my death bed, I want to examine my life, and to be able to honestly say to myself: "I took the high road". I was noble in spirit, magnanimous and generous in all matters. Writing about your emotional difficulties is a good first step in coming to terms with them. Whoever might read this essay is serving as my therapist, if unwittingly. The teachings of christ, like all true wisdom, are universal. If I don't forgive my alleged trespassers and transgressors seven times seventy times, for starters, I have not succeeded. I must find a way to forgive the juvenile deliquents who broke in to my house the other day. The police and the judicial system can take care of the rest. The person ia am hardest on, the person I find it the most difficult to forgive, as you might have guessed, is myself. (That might sound familiar to most people.) Yes, we of good intentions tend to be hardest on ourselves. My addcition to quoting Goethe is beyond medical help. "Since everyone errs,since even the greatest people among us have made mistakes, we have no grounds upon which to regard our own mistakes as inexcusable". If I didn't know better, I might almost think that even the great wise man Joshua ben Joseph made a mistake or two, and then forgave himself,if only to set an example. I feed stray cats, who come to my house because they lack and need a food source. Soon they start to become cat picky, and I've got skinny stray cats turning down Purina because they want Temptations. Their tastes change daily, they are moving targets. Feline beggers become choosers. You can scarcely imagine how much that pisses the heck me off. OK, fine. I can be just a Pee Oh'd as my little heart desires, but I have better damn well keep trying my best to feed my super particular picky chhoosy beggar stray cats, or, I aint being the best version of me available. Less than my best don't cut it. All I can do is my best, forgive everyone, including myself, for everything, and, for heaven's sake, pay attention in church.