Beauty on the Backroads

Stories of grace for life's unexpected turns

Marriage

Hard to say I’m sorry

My son is “serving time” in his crib for biting his sister. It’s the second time this week he’s left a visible mark on a part of her body. The first time, he drew blood. And he’s the younger one of the two.

Sigh.

I know this isn’t by far the worst it will get as a parent. (We avoid the “p” word around here … ya know, puberty. That’s years away but we still dread it.)

But it’s frustrating. There’s no real rhyme or reason. We send him to timeout, which works, kind of. He resists timeout, but he’s willing to hug his sister afterwards.

He WILL NOT, however, say the words “I’m sorry.” He’s 2. And his vocabulary is such that he can it say but chooses not to.

Tonight, as he protested, “but I can’t” when I asked him to tell his sister he was sorry, I had a Chicago flashback.

Indulge me, will you?

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sLVKd1lhgOQ]

There, that’s better. I think you could change a few words in the song and it would apply to these two siblings who seem to have a love-hate relationship.

It’s not like my son is unique, though. He’s human, and if you haven’t noticed, we, humans, have a hard time with “sorry.” My first reaction when confronted with something I might or might not have done wrong is to find someone or something else to blame. “Sorry” is a last resort.

I was reminded of this yesterday when my husband brought up something that I hadn’t even realized I was guilty of doing. I wanted to find a reason to not be in the wrong, but in the end, I had to swallow all those excuses like a piece of overcooked broccoli and spit out the words, “I’m sorry.” Like the broccoli, it left a bad taste in my mouth, but I knew it was good for me.

I know that an apology doesn’t always fix things and that people who aren’t sorry can say the words and nothing changes. (And that some people are quick to apologize for things they didn’t do and have no control over.) But sometimes the words, sincere or not, are a start.

My son was given three or four chances tonight to apologize to his sister. He kept wanting to hug her and stuck to his original story of why he wouldn’t apologize: “I can’t.”

Maybe it’s true. Maybe he knows he wouldn’t mean it. (That would be awfully deep for a 2-year-old, I think.)

Or maybe he’s 2. And that’s all there is to it.

At least he has that as an excuse. I’m not sure it would work for me. (But, I’m only 33! I didn’t know better. Yeah, right!)

When do you have trouble with apologies? How do you overcome it? When was the last time you said “sorry” and meant it? How do you react when someone says “I’m sorry”?

Someday, my Prince will come

At first I was angry.

Well, maybe not angry, but definitely discouraged. And I’m not used to that reaction when I finish a great book. Especially not by one of my favorite authors.

Yes, it was a love story. Christian romance, if you will, though I hate that label and everything it conjures up. It was the second book in a retelling of the story of Ruth and Boaz from the book of Ruth in the Bible. Set in Scotland. Swoon.

I was hooked after the first book and had waited many weeks for a copy of the sequel to become available in the library system. When it was finally my turn, I devoured the book in a matter of days.

I loved it, for what some would say is all the wrong reasons: the Boaz character. The leading man.

If you’re not familiar with the story of Ruth, stop reading this and go find it in the Old Testament. Or click here to start reading. It’s only four chapters. It won’t take you long to read. It’s a love story, too.

Back to the leading man. He was so perfect. He rescued. He protected. He loved. He pursued. He was everything a woman could want in a man.

And there lies the problem.

I know women who say they won’t read Christian fiction because of how the men are portrayed, giving us women a standard for our husbands (or future husbands) that is unattainable.

I’ve never felt that as strongly as I did with this book. When I closed it, I wanted what the leading lady had — this perfect, handsome, all-around great-guy husband who did everything right.

And I was disappointed. Not because I don’t love the husband God has given me but because it didn’t feel like enough.

Then, I realized something.

My husband wasn’t supposed to be the ultimate source of fulfillment in my life. He would make mistakes. He would not love me the way I thought he should. He would fail. Even at his best, he would fall short of perfect.

It’s true that I would not find a man who could live up to the expectation set in this book.

But, when I compared the book’s ideal man to Jesus, something inside me changed. My husband couldn’t love me perfectly but Jesus could. And did. And does.

In the days after I finished the book, I found myself longing — not for my husband to act like the character in the book — but for Jesus. Suddenly I wanted to know more about Jesus. I wanted to read my Bible again. And pray. I could feel His closeness around me. And my heart was filled with a desire to see Him.

Most days, I’m pretty comfortable here on earth. I’m not eager to leave it, nor do I think God wants me to be. But in so many ways, the life I’m living falls short of what I want it to be. The Ruth character in the book loses everything and struggles to survive. Some days, I can identify. And she dares to hope that something better might come her way.

Fairy tales thrive on this longing — someday my prince will come.

I don’t have to merely hope or long forever.

“Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.” (Hebrews 11:1)

If I could have everything I wanted the way I wanted in this life, I wouldn’t need Jesus. Longing is part of the path that leads me to Him.

Someday, my Prince will come.