The Things I’ve Done and Left Undone

There’s a point in the Episcopal service that particularly resonates with me. Oddly, it’s the part where we’re confessing our sins and asking for forgiveness.

I’ve had conversations with people who don’t go to church in any regular way who tell me that it makes them uncomfortable to confess sins when they don’t particularly feel they have sinned and that they feel organized religion’s approach that everyone is a sinner, that it’s just the starting point, original sin, blah, blah, blah is a huge turn-off. I’ve felt that way myself.

Sinner. So old-fashioned. So perjorative. So un-pc. Doesn’t using the very label put us in the position of judging when we should not be judging? That’s gotta be some kind of sin, right? Yes, if we are applying it to others. Acknowledging “sin” (and yes, the word still makes me uneasy) in ourselves seems to me simply being honest. Okay, I’m not running around murdering people, but I fall short of being the kind of person I know I should be.

I’ve heard every religion has the golden rule at its center. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you, or the gospel version: Love one another as you love yourselves. Man, it is so hard to do. Just when I’m feeling my most loving and angelic, I’m liable to have an encounter with someone who repulses me, frightens me, or just plain pisses me off. Is it better or worse if it’s someone I love or someone I don’t even know? Neither. It’s all the same.

I group that kind of sin under the category of “things I have done.” The other side of that is the “things I have left undone.” Most of the time, my head is just stuffed full of “I should have done this, I should have done that.” When I verbalize one of these thoughts, Dave says “oh, shoulda, coulda, woulda!” He doesn’t seem to have the same affliction. This prayer helps me let go a little of the regret and anxiety that comes from not quite measuring up to my own standard. It helps me forgive myself just a little.

Cammy at 11

Cammy is 11 years old today. We took her for a walk at Dewey’s Pond, probably her favorite place on earth. It has everything a Lab could wish for — water and room to run. Sometimes she finds dead fish in the shallows, always an occasion for joy. Here she is in action:

 

Quiet time

I’ve been up an hour or so this lovely spring morning, reading from a book of poems.

My heart is full this week. We’ve been singing with the Episcopalians at St. James all Holy Week. Today is the last of it — Easter Sunday. I have many thoughts on the experience, but can’t quite organize them.

Let me live in a house by the side of the road and be a friend to man