My Great Confession

Reluctantly, my family agreed to sit down together and listen to what I had to say.  They were exhausted by my uncontrollable and inexplicable sobbing.  It was painful for them to watch me, be with me.

What I had to say was nothing short of amazing.  I asked their forgiveness—forgiveness for all the times I was wrong and should have apologized but wouldn’t.  As tears flowed again, I told them how sorry I was for being the way I had been.

The way I had been was a woman so determined to be  in control, to be right, that I never admitted I was wrong, said I was sorry, for ANYTHING.  Even when I knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that I was wrong, I would not admit it.

When verbally backed into a corner with my misdeeds, I would turn everything around and accuse a family member of making the situation look as if it was my fault when it wasn’t.  I always put the blame on something or someone else.

My family was flabbergasted!  For a while, speechless. Then they told me about the many times they had wished for an apology from me, and it never came.  They told me they finally gave up hoping they would ever hear one.  My family had given up hope of ever hearing an apology from me, and here I was confessing and apologizing for EVERYTHING.

As I repeated my tearful confession of guilt and shame, I could see fatigue taking over.  What I had to say was so heavy to hear that they finally could listen no more.  I think we all took naps that afternoon.

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