It.Is.Finished

If you have to say the words,
Then you need them to know.

A preacher, ordinary as any man, told me.
Forgive - only for real. Do not pretend.
Drop the hate. Lose the anger.

Forgive them all. Be free. Place them in His hands.

Could I do it? These three did not deserve forgiveness. But that was the point. If they deserved to be forgiven - an innocent error perhaps, there would be little to forgive; little difficulty in doing so.

Paper was handed around. White paper.
I put mine in my pocket. I'll do it later.

Later I discover it, still there in my pocket. I look at the empty space.

Finding a pencil, I write the three names quickly.
I tear through the sheet, ripping it into pieces, before throwing it down into the bin.

Though we weren't suggested to do this, I quietly mutter "I forgive you. You're out of my life. I do not hate you any longer. It is finished."

I walk away from the room, feeling strangely cleaner for doing so.

It is done. Now whenever I get tempted to think about those people, or to hate them for what they did to me, I remember my desicion, the piece of paper I tore. The words I spoke.

Never again.