Love Story - Reflection on the Journey at St. John Vianney Seminary - part 2

I was going through some old letters that I received since freshman year when I came across this note from Sister Dorothy Sayers, a nun from my parish. In her note for me, she wrote, “Dear Martin, may your first day in the seminary be the beginning of a love story with Jesus Christ.”

I could not have put it better to summarize what my journey at St. John Vianney was all about. It has been indeed a love story – a story of learning to love the Lord, and more importantly, learning to be loved by him. Learning to be loved by God seems to me almost as hard as learning to love him, if not to say a lot harder.

Often, it seems so easy for us to believe and tell other people that God loves them despite of their own weaknesses and sinfulness. But how hard it is for us to believe that God, too, loves us in the midst of our own imperfections. Truly it seems much easier to point at someone and say: “God loves you,” than to look in the mirror and tell ourselves that, “God loves me too.” We are our worst judge because in many ways we are aware of our sins and our less-than-perfect self, and as a result we tend to think that we do not deserve God’s love. Without knowing it, we place conditions and barriers on God’s unconditional love.

Recognizing and accepting his love is one of the lessons I strive to grasp for the last four years.

A story came to my mind, a story of a young couple who was sitting on a bench looking at the sunset. The lady turned to her boyfriend and asked, “Why do you love me? Was it because of my beauty?” The boyfriend stayed silent for a while, then said, “I cannot give you the answer now. But one day, I will show you.” The lady was rather disappointed but she said nothing. Not long after their conversation, she got into a terrible accident which left her with many scars on her face. Her, once so beautiful, appearance now troubled anyone who looked at her. She was depressed thinking that her boyfriend would abandon her.

To her surprise, he did not leave her. He was always by her side day and night. His love for her seemed stronger than ever. Could not hold her curiosity any longer, one day, she confessed, “After my accident, I thought I would lose you.” Smiling at her, the boyfriend said, “Remember a while ago you asked me why I loved you? If I said I love you just because of who you are, not your appearance, I was sure you would not believe me. But now I can prove it to you. I love you, just because of who you are.”

The love story between the Lord and me is the same.

“In finem dilexit eos” – “He loves them to the end.”

A simple and concise verse, but eloquently portrays the beauty of God’s unconditional love.

This verse was taken from the Gospel of St. John during the Last Supper. Let us picture for a moment the scene of this meal.

There Jesus sat among his friends with a heavy heart knowing that he was to enter into tremendous sufferings. He who is the model of perfection sat there to have a meal with some major characters of imperfections:

  Peter, Andrew, James and John – the first four whom he called – were hardcore fishermen who most likely were masters in the art of foul language. Peter (O, I just love him) was as impulsive as possible with a quick mouth that went much faster that his reason. James and John were extremely hot-headed and rather ambitious.

Thomas was doubtful. Philip was pretty dim witted. Simon was a rebel who probably got himself into several heated “debates” with Matthew, a tax-collector. 

There Jesus sat knowing that soon Judas would betray him, Peter would deny him three times, and the rest of his friends would abandon him. There he sat – the perfect among the imperfects. Yet “he loves them to the end.”

In each of us exist that Peter, Andrew, James, John, Thomas, Philip, Simon and Judas. In each of us exist those flaws which those disciples had within themselves.

Each of us has at least once let our anger, ambitions, ignorance, impulsiveness, and fears overtake our heart, a place which should be reserved only for Christ. Just like the disciples, we have let lesser things have a more important place than Christ himself.

 But Christ did love the disciples in their own sinfulness and imperfections, so does he love us in our own sinfulness as well.

A holy priest from the Missionaries of Charity Fathers wrote these beautiful words in his reflection I Thirst for You, “You don’t need to change to believe in My love, for it will be your belief in My love that will change you.”

It is indeed so. Christ’s love knows no boundaries. Christ’s love looks beyond the ugliness of sins and defects. Christ’s love only seeks the face of the beloved – ours. And it is in this awesome love that my formation has taken place. It is in this awesome love that I am being changed into the person He wants me to be.

What a beautiful love story of a God who looks beyond my human imperfections!

What a beautiful love story of a God who loves me, not because of anything I have accomplished, but, merely because of who I am!

“Just as the Father has loved me, so have I loved you” (Jn 15:9)

Forgetfulness

A husband and wife in their 80s were both becoming extremely forgetful. He would forget where he put his eyeglasses. Then as he went from room to room searching for them, he would forget what he was looking for. She would announce that she was going to the store for butter, but when she got there she would forget what she was shopping for.

One evening, as they watched TV, the husband stood up and the following dialogue took place:

She: Where are you going?

He: To get snacks, it’s my turn.

She: I want a hot fudge sundae. Write it down!

He: I don’t have to write it down.

She: And put nuts on it. Write it down!

He: I don’t have to write it down.

She: And whipped cream on top. Write it down!

He: I don’t have to write it down.

The husband left and, when he returned, he presented his wife with a plate of bacon and eggs.

She: Where’s the toast?

A funny story for a serious message.

From the beginning of time, one of the sins which humanity commits quite often is the sin of forgetfulness.

Yes, we can easily become forgetful of what matters most in our life. We can easily become forgetful of the love of a God who, for our sake, endured sufferings and death.

Lent is the season of remembrance. We are called to remember. Remember what?

Remember what truly matters.

“Take care and be earnestly on your guard not to forget the things which your own eyes have seen, nor let them slip from your memory as long as you live, but teach them to your children and to your children’s children” (Dt. 4:9).

No Regret - Reflection on the Journey at St. John Vianney Seminary - part 1

In less than two months, we will bring this year of formation to an end. I, too, will be reaching the finish line of my journey here at St. John Vianney. Looking back, I can say with all sincerity that the journey has been incredibly grace-filled. The four years spent here at this wonderful institution were not without trials and difficulties, but they were also filled with many blessings and joys, and the difficulties were nothing in compare to the joys I have had. I am contented.
As I am striving hard to reach the finish line, it seems quite necessary that I should quiet myself down in the midst of the hectic schedule of academics and other duties to reflect on the calling which I have received from our Lord Jesus.
I wish to use my three favorite verses from the New Testament as the topics for the three reflections I am to write:
“Ecce ancilla Domini, fiat mihi secundum verbum tuum” (Lc 1:38)
“In finem dilexit eos” (In 13:1)
 “Domine, tu scis ominia, tu scis quia amo te” (In 21: 17)

I decided to share these reflections, especially to those brothers of mine who will continue their journey at the St. John's. Hopefully, my words can express the love I have for this vocation. What I share probably is nothing new or extraordinary to most of you. But, sometime graces do not lie in the extraordinary, rather in the simplicity of a heart desires to follow God.
                                                                             ******

The first reflection will be on the radical “Yes” that God demands on the ones he has called.
I have always been very fond of this verse from the Annunciation recounted in the Gospel of St. Luke. The Virgin Mary, a young maiden, was called by the Most High to partake in His Salvific plan. He asked her to receive into her womb the Savior of the World. Anyone who was in their right mind would be terrified out of their wits at such a request.
Moreover, from a practical standpoint, such a request could result in severe punishment for Mary. She was a virgin who had been betrothed to Joseph. She had not been taken to his house yet, and God was asking her to carry a baby in her womb. According to the Jewish custom, she would have been stoned to death. I am sure Mary was quite aware of this fact.
Fearful and confused she was, but because God had asked, she accepted his will. A simple, quiet “Fiat” uttered in complete abandonment to the will of God has completely change the course of history. Mary’s fiat has enabled the great mystery of God-became-man. All were done in trusting that “Nothing is impossible for God” (Lk 1:37).
Mary’s calling to be the Mother of the Redeemer reflects the mystery of every vocation. Just last Sunday, we heard of the call of Abraham to leave his homeland to journey to the land which God has promised him. God asked from Abraham a great deal of trust to leave his kinsmen and his comforts to go to an unknown land. God asked Abraham to leave behind everything that was dear and familiar. And Abraham, in turn, had uttered a radical response to follow God’s calling.
August 9th 2007, God asked the same of me.
It was probably one of the hardest choices that I have ever made. That time, my mother was ill and out of job. She didn’t have a definite place to live, and I was all that she had. I was torn between wanting to stay so as to help my mother out and wanting to go to the seminary in response to the calling that I was quite certain that God has called me to.
I was very close to call off the seminary plan. Thankfully, I did not. I left for the seminary as the day came in trusting that God would provide for and take care of my mother. Looking back, I could not help but thinking “Jeez, God was really asking a lot from a seventeen-year-old!”
It has been four years since I made that choice. It has been four years since I said that “yes” to the journey of seminary. I have not regretted it. God has been taking care of my mother. And I am happy with the life I am living. I have not regretted saying yes to God.
I am certain that those who are called by God ought to face the process of letting go and embracing the unknown. And that is scary. We all like things to be certain. No one would really like to dive into the pit of uncertainty. Moreover, the process of letting go is never easy.
All of us have things we want to hold on to: the easy and comfortable life we had at home, the ex-girlfriends we have a hard time getting off our minds, friends, or the freedom to do whatever, to go wherever and whenever we want, and so on. The worst of all that hold us back is fear: fear of failure, fear of the lack of control, fear of our own weaknesses and unworthiness.
God asks us to let go of them all, maybe not at once, but slowly he asks us let go of them all. God asks us to trust in him for whom nothing is impossible. God asks us to let go so that we can be free to follow him. God waits for that “yes” from us so that he can use it to change the world. Will we let him?
Lead me and guide me, O Lord,
For the path I have chosen
is filled with uncertainty and many trials.
Take away from me fears and disbeliefs.
Grant me, in place, your strength and your grace
that I may unreservedly respond
“yes”
to whatever you are to ask of me.
Above all, Lord,
May I always have you in my mind and in my heart,
For, Lord Jesus,
You are my God and my All
Amen

An Invitation

There was this Hindu who saw a scorpion floundering around in the water. He decided to save it by stretching out his finger, but the scorpion stung him. The man still tried to get the scorpion out of the water, but the scorpion stung him again.

A man nearby told him to stop saving the scorpion that kept stinging him.

But the Hindu said: "It is the nature of the scorpion to sting. It is my nature to love. Why should I give up my nature to love just because it is the nature of the scorpion to sting?"

Don't give up loving.
Don't give up your goodness.
Even if people around you sting.

“I say to you, not seven times but seventy-seven times” (Matthew 18:22)

He has done it.

He is still doing it.

He is calling us to do the same.

 The least we can do is to try the best we can.

Perspective

Two men looked through their prison bars.

The one saw mud, the other stars.

Life is a matter of perspective. It is filled with only turmoil and sadness, or with love and hope. It all depends on how we look at it.

Faith is also a matter of perspective. Seeing Jesus Christ as the Savior in our midst, or merely the son of a carpenter, that, too, depends on how we look at it.

The Priest: A Prayer on a Sunday Evening by Michel Quoist

Tonight, Lord, I am alone.
Little by little the sounds died down in the church.
The people went away,
And I came home,
Alone.

I passed people who were returning from a walk.
I went by the cinema that was disgorging its crowd.
I skirted café terraces where tired strollers were trying to prolong the pleasure of a Sunday holiday.
I bumped into youngsters playing on the footpath,
Youngsters, Lord,
Other people’s youngsters who will never be my own.

Here I am, Lord,
Alone.
The silence troubles me,
The solitude oppresses me.

Lord, I’m 35 years old,
A body made like others, ready for work,
A heart meant for love,
But I’ve given you all.
It’s true of course, that you needed it.
I’ve given you all, but it is hard, Lord.
It’s hard to give one’s body; it would like to give itself to others.
It’s hard to love everyone and to claim no one.
It’s hard to shake a hand and not want to keep it.
It’s hard to inspire affection,only to give it to you.
It’s hard to be nothing to oneself in order to be everything to others.
It’s hard to be like others, among others, and be an other to them.
It’s hard always to give without trying to receive.
It’s hard to seek out others and to be oneself unsought.
It’s hard to be told secrets,and never be able to share them.
It’s hard to carry others and never, even for a moment, be carried.
It’s hard to sustain the feeble and never be able to lean on one who is strong.

It’s hard to be alone,
Alone before everyone,
Alone before the world,
Alone before suffering,
death,
sin.

Son, you are not alone,
I am with you.
I am you.
For I needed another human vehicle to continue my Incarnation
and my Redemption.
Out of all eternity, I chose you.
I need you.

I need your hands to continue to bless,
I need your lips to continue to speak,
I need your body to continue to suffer,
I need your heart to continue to love,
I need you to continue to save,
Stay with me.

Here I am Lord,
Here is my body,
my heart,
my soul,
Grant that I may be
big enough to reach the world,
Strong enough to carry it.
Pure enough to embrace it without wanting to keep it.

Grant that I may be a meeting-place, but a temporary one,
A road that does not end in itself,
because everything to be gathered there,everything human, must be led to you.

Lord, tonight, while all is still
and I feel sharply the sting of solitude,
While people devour my soul
and I feel incapable of satisfying their hunger,
While the world presses on my shoulders with all its weight of misery and sin,
I repeat to you my “yes”
—not in a burst of laughter, but slowly,
clearly, humbly.
Alone, Lord,
before you,
In the peace of the evening.

God Reaching Out - The Encounter at Jacob's Well

Our Dean of Men here at the seminary has a saying which I like a lot. He says, “Jesus scandalizes many people, but he does not get scandalized by anything.”

There is a lot of truth to that saying, especially in the context of today’s Gospel reading.

The disciples were obviously scandalized when they, upon returning from getting food, found their Teacher sitting by the well talking with a woman – a Samaritan woman. Samaritans were Jews’ mortal enemy. And, yet, there Jesus was sitting and chatting casually with a Samaritan.

Even the woman herself was surprised by Jesus’ action, “How can you, a Jew, ask me, a Samaritan woman, for a drink?”

Yet, it was in the midst of such a scandalizing incident that Christ demonstrated the beauty of God-reaching-out-to-all-sinners.

To see that, let us take a closer look at the two main characters of today’s reading:

            The first character we will look at is the Samaritan woman herself. She arrived at the well that sunny day, around noon, to draw water. The timing was rather strange. Why at noon? Wouldn’t people prefer getting water in the morning when it wasn’t as hot? No woman certainly in her right mind would want to carry a heavy jar of water in the middle of day when she might face the chance of getting a heat stroke. Truly so, no one in their right mind would that. But, the woman wasn’t in her right mind. She was ashamed.

What was she ashamed of? Well, the lady had been married for five times, and now she was living with another man whom she wasn’t married to. It wasn’t something that women in those days would be proud of. For that reason, she decided to go and get water at noon because she knew the other women from her town would not be there. She would not be looked upon with contempt and criticism. She would not have to become the topic for gossiping. She wanted to avoid seeing anyone. As we could see, her intention was not successful. But that, too, turned out to be her advantage. At the well, she met a man, a Jew, named Jesus.

He was sitting there, tired from the journey. He saw her approaching. He knew of her past. He knew of her sins. He decided to enter into a conversation with her, so he asked her for a drink.

His attempt to strike a conversation was met with some attitudes from her. She was one of those “spicy” women who weren’t afraid to say anything. But this attitude of her came from the turmoil of hurt and shame, of loneliness and the feeling of being an outcast, and Jesus was aware of that. So, patiently, he continued engaging in talking with her. He continued reaching out to her.

In the midst of their conversation, the woman’s attitude softened. And when Jesus revealed to her what she had done in her life, how many times she had married and who she was living with, she realized that Christ knew everything about her. He told her everything she did, yet without a single tone of condemnation and judgment. She realized that the man with whom she was speaking wasn’t just an ordinary man. Despite it all, in his present, she felt accepted. She felt loved.

He wasn’t judging her. He wasn’t condemning her. He was there offering her living water – water which would purify her, cleanse her from her sins, and heal her from the wounds that her past had inflicted on her. He was there as God reaching out to her to forgive her.

What a joy! What a liberating joy!

She rushed back to her town leaving behind the jar with which she came. She rushed back to her town as a new person – no more shame, no more hurt, only joy. She was no longer an outcast. Her sins had been forgiven. Christ had given her a new life.

I am reminded of a scene from the movie the Elephant Man:

It was the scene where Mrs. Kendal, a famous actress, came to see the elephant man. She held out her hand to take his. And he extended the less deformed of his two hands. Mrs. Kendal stood there and looked him straight in the eye, and shook her head, indicating that was not sufficient.

The elephant man waited a long time. Finally, after a short pause, out from under his coat he brought his more horribly deformed hand. Mrs. Kendal took his hand in hers and she smiled.

That was the first time a woman held his hand. That was the first time he felt he was treated like a human being.

We all do this to God. We come to him, but often, we try to present a less “deformed” part of ourselves to him. Why? Because we are ashamed – ashamed of our imperfections and our sinfulness. We don’t want God to look down upon us with judgment and condemnation.

But God will have none of that. He knows everything about us. There isn’t anything we can hide from him. He wants us to come to him with our most hidden and undesirable self. So he can love us, forgive us, purify us and save us.

There is nothing which can prevent him from reaching out to us – not our sins, not our imperfection, not our secrets, not our wounds – Nothing.

It is in the fact that we all are sinners and imperfect that leads us to realize we need him. We need our savior.

The final point which I wish to reflect in this reflection is the challenge this Gospel presents to each of us.

If Christ had come to reach out to such a sinful woman, what should we, his followers, do?

If he had not looked upon her with judgment and harshness, what should our attitude be to those whom we consider “sinners?”

Hopefully we will not forget that we are all sinners in the eyes of God. None of us is better than the other. All of us are imperfect and sinful. All of us are in need of God’s forgiveness and redemption.

Who are we to condemn our brothers and sisters?

"Taken for Granted" - Reflection on the Elder Son

Today Gospel, once again, presents to us the parable of the Prodigal Son. We have heard this parable many times. We are familiar with the storyline and the characters. Much has been spoken about the leaving and returning of the younger son. Much has been spoken about the love and the mercy of the father. Much has also been spoken about the anger and the unforgiving attitude of the elder son.

Indeed, the elder son has always been pretty harshly criticized as critical and mean. Let us try a different approach. Let us try to look into his character with a more sympathetic heart. We then will see he wasn’t so bad after all.

No, the elder brother was actually a very good guy. He was very faithful to his duty at home. He took care of his father’s property. He kept the house in order. He was hard-working. He was obedient and dependable. He was a very decent fellow, and a son every parent would dream of having.

As decent as he was, the poor fellow couldn’t help but feel a little resentful. Everyone seemed to have taken him for granted. His works seemed under-appreciated. No one ever seemed to celebrate his achievements. No one ever seemed to notice how hard he had been trying to keep everything together and be good.

Worst of all, he felt that his own “father,” whom he had done well to serve, had also taken him for granted. Yet, when that obnoxious little brother of his, after having wasted everything that he and his father had worked hard to obtain, now returned tattered and desperate. And his father threw a big party for him. The poor fellow, of course, could not help but feel angry and resentful.

We should not judge him so harshly. In fact, we should have more sympathy for him. Because, guess what? Each of us has, at least for once, experienced the feelings of the elder brother. Guess what? The elder brother is in every one of us.

He is in a faithful wife and loving mother who works so hard to keep the family together, to please her husband, to take care of the kids, to clean the house and to cook the family meal. Yet, no one ever notices how hard she works. She feels that she is taken for granted.

He is in a responsible husband who works day and night trying to provide for his family, to make sure that his wife can get to go shopping every once in a while, to make sure the kids get to go to decent schools, to make sure the roof is fixed and the toilet doesn’t explode. Yet, no one ever notices how much he sacrifices. He feels that he is taken for granted.

He is in a hard-working employee who works at the company for years, knowing everything inside out, working around the clock with not a word of complain. Yet, his boss never seems to notice. He doesn’t get a raise. He doesn’t get a single praise. And if there is some other guy who is younger and smarter come along, his job might even be taken away to give to him.

He is in those who work 2 or 3 different jobs trying to meet the needs of life, and yet often unable to do so; while some others who never have to raise their fingers to work for a day in their lives, yet are filled with riches.

He is in all of us who strive hard, and yet feel like we have been taken for granted. He is in all of us who have done good deeds, yet our works seemed to be quickly forgotten, our dedications were disregarded. What the elder brother felt is nothing but that which every one of us feels once in a while: resentful, sad, angry, and even hurt.

Please don’t tell me that you have never felt such a feeling. It isn’t pleasant, is it?

My mind is recalled to the story of Mozart and Salieri in the movie Amadeus.

Antonio Salieri was a decent guy, a devout catholic, a gifted musician. His world, however, was turned upside down when Mozart came around – a musical prodigy, but also an obnoxious prideful brat. Despite his flaws Mozart’s talents way surpassed Salieri’s.

Anotonio Salieri became more and more resentful towards God who had blessed such a brat like Mozart with incredible gifts while he, Salieri himself, was cast aside as secondary. He felt underappreciated. He felt his dedication was taken for granted. This feeling lead to the point where whenever he heard Mozart’s heavenly music, all he could hear was God laughing at him. His jealousy and resentment drove him insane. He was lost forever in that insanity.

A sad story!

Could you see the face of the elder brother there? Yes, the elder brother was also lost. He was lost in his resentment and anger. Should we be lost in the same way? I sincerely pray not.

What we need to learn is that it is natural to feel what the elder brother felt. What we need to realize and be convinced is that God does not take us for granted. He knows all that we do. He knows of our hardships and our efforts. He knows it all and he is grateful for that.

What we also need to realize, and this is important, is the invitation of God to strive to imitate his divine generosity. He is inviting us to love like he does – unconditionally and freely. He, who sends rain on both the just and the unjust, is inviting us to be perfect as he is perfect.

The parable has an open-ending. That means Jesus did not offer a resolution. Did the elder son come into the house and join the party? Did he rejoice over the return of his younger brother?

Ah, those questions are for you and me to answer.

"To Be Left Alone" - Reflection of the Parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus

A sad and terrifying story that I came across:

We have been childhood friends. She was in a nursing home. I went occasionally to visit her. When I entered, she stood there, defiant as ever, half expecting my embrace. But I averted my eyes and we sat down. She always had a sharp tongue and she went on about life’s ingratitude, her unfaithful lovers, and the deplorable people here. After a half hour, I rose to leave. Again, the half expected embrace side-stepped. Suppose she broke down and cried? I couldn’t handle that. And, then, her sharp tongue. What would she say? So I pleaded I had to get home to attend to things, it would be hard to get a taxi, I would be late, I would have to go, and so on. We shook hands politely and I left. Two months later I called. The nurse informed me that my friend had committed suicide. I killed her. I didn’t drop poison in her water or slit her throat, but I killed her. I starved her to death. She was hungry for companion, friendship, a touch, an embrace, a kiss, my time, my time, my time. And I couldn’t give any of those things. I just couldn’t. I killed her.(**)

We often flattered ourselves as the biggest sinners. But, honestly, how many of us how committed homicide or rape? How many of us have cheated billions of dollars or be involved in terrorist acts? No, no, we are no big sinners. We commit small sins; some are too small and too insignificant to get our attention. These are like small drops of arsenic, not deadly in small amounts, but consumed gradually can lead to fatal death.

Let’s look at one of them – the sin of “wanting to be left alone.”

The Gospel today tells us the story of the rich man and the leper Lazarus. The rich man, as the Gospel recounted, did not commit in any despicable sinful acts. He was man of many riches, and of course, he did have the right to enjoy what he had – Nothing wrong about that.

What then went wrong that caused the rich man to be sent to hell? Jesus certainly did not condemn rich people. He had many rich friends too. But, what then was the problem that caused the rich man’s damnation.

Things went horribly wrong when he wanted to be left alone to enjoy his own riches, he wanted to be left alone to mind his own business, he wanted to be left alone to refuse to see the poor Lazarus lying by his doorsteps wishing to eat the scraps from the his table.

The rich man only committed the sin of “wanting to be left alone,” which we can replace with a simple term – INDIFFERENCE.

We certainly are not like that rich man. We would love to care for those in need around us. We would love to, but we just haven’t got time.

O, the eternal song of “I haven’t got time.”

Yes, we are so busy with school, with work, with this activity and that activity. We are busy attending this conference and be a part of that event. We are so busy that we haven’t got time to care.

Parents have no time for children. Husband and wife have no time for each other. Friends have no time for friends.

We are too busy to look around to see if there is anyone who is in need, perhaps a member of our family, or a friend. It is not that we are bad people; we just don’t have time; and we prefer to be left alone.

After all, we have enough problems of our own. We don’t want to hear other people’s life problems. We have enough complains of our own; why listening to others’?

After all, difficult people are burdensome and tiresome to be around.

After all, we haven’t got time.

No, no, we commit no big sins, only those small and festering sins of wanting to be left alone, just the small sins of being indifferent, just the small sins of emptiness that we could have filled, but didn’t – the sins of not saying, “I am sorry,” or “I love you,” or “you mean more to me than anything else in the world, “or “I am here for you.”

We are not big sinners; after all, we only commit small sins – the sins:

Of apologies withheld,

Of comfort suppressed,

Of affirmation denied,

Of embraces ungiven,

Of love unspoken. (**)

They are so small. They are so insignificant. We haven’t got time to care.

(**) Rev. William Bausch, Once Upon A Gospel.