“And whenever you stand
so that your Father also who is in heaven may forgive you your trespasses.”
“You’re awfully slow today,” God said as I drug my feet to start the day.
“I know. I just can’t seem to get going,” I said as I made a cup of coffee.
“That’s not what you need,” God said. “What you need is to stop lugging around all that dead weight.”
“I need to lose weight?” I asked, a bit surprised. “I’m a size four,” I argued.
“No. Not body weight. The weight of resentments. The weight of anger. They exhaust you.”
“You’re right about that,” I said.
“It’s because you don’t let go of the past,” God explained. “If you let go of yesterday and the all the days that came before it, you’d be living only in today. The past wouldn’t matter.
“How do I let go?” I asked.
“With my help. You lean on me and not on your own understanding. You forgive, just as I forgive you,” God said quietly. I nodded. I took my coffee and sat outside in the garden. The sun had already climbed halfway up the sky. I sat near the birdfeeder and listened to the finches chirping.
“I’ll do my best to let go of the past. I’ll do my best to forgive.”
“Good,” God said. “You’ll have more pep in your step. You’ll also enjoy your coffee more.”
“Really? I like it a lot right now,” I said.
“Everything will look, feel, taste, and sound better when you’re not resentful or angry,” God explained. I sat for quite some time in the cool of the day and sipped my coffee, praying all the while for help to let go. A finch flew down and landed on the table in front of me.
“Thanks, God,” I said. The little bird cocked his head at me, as if he too, had heard me. I smiled. I felt better already.