Forgiving To Get My Life Back

Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, “Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother or sister who sins against me? Up to seven times?” Jesus answered, “I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times.”

—Matthew 18:21–22

How do I forgive someone who doesn’t think she did anything wrong? Or who doesn’t care? I could maybe do it if she groveled or begged. It would be even easier if she cried a lot. Or if she told me she thought I was a genius with great fashion sense and that she wants to be like me someday. But nothing. No phone calls. No e-mails. No large, fragrant bouquets of flowers. Nothing. Why would I forgive someone who doesn’t even think she needs to be forgiven?

Because I want my neck and my back muscles to stop hurting. Because I want to sleep, instead of having endless imaginary conversations. Because I want my mind back. Because I want my life back.

So I let her off the hook. I let her off once, to start, and felt pretty good about myself, until someone brought up her name at lunch, and then I got mad all over again, which threw me for a loop. I forgave her. Why am I still so mad at her? I felt like I bought expensive wrinkle cream and woke up more wrinkly than ever. I wanted my money back.