Bridget Callahan is Your Best Friend

I think, and often argue, that the words love and happiness are too broad to actually represent the varied and individual experiences they imply. And that too many people fall prey to thinking they have to live up to whatever norm they perceive these words to mean, and therefore miss out on what would really enrich their own lives.

However, this weekend has convinced me to fall prey to at least one cliche. Which is that I now believe "love" to include that hardest of all feats, absolute forgiveness.

We are taught, at least us childhood christians, that to forgive someone is our duty, and to be forgiving is a grace. I'm not a forgiving person, and the majority of people I know are not forgiving. Perhaps no one really is until they experience the other side of the equation, which is to be forgiven. When you are utterly forgiven for something unforgivable, it is a mind-blowing, heart- palpitation causing, HUMBLING act. It deflates you and fills you up again with something that at the moment is unnamed, but infinitely more substantial than whatever oxygenless ether filled you before.

The true test though is whether you can apply this grace that has been set upon you to your own life.

I have had this kind of forgiveness before from family, many times over, but I've never had it from someone who was not genetically and socially obligated to give it. Not to undercut the value of my family's love, but when someone who, essentially, is a stranger to your upbringing can love you enough not only as a lover but as a human being to show this amount of compassion for your life?

I mean, the least you can do is accept it. The very least. And what the hell do you buy them for Christmas?