Sometimes, I will sit at a table in front of this little café on Main Street, sip coffee, and watch the world go by. Most of the people that pass by are too preoccupied to even notice me watching them, and most walk by with a troubled or puzzled look on their face. Couples pass by almost absent minded of the fact that they are holding hands. And everyone seems to wear sunglasses today, but I get the feeling that they are hiding more from each other than from sunlight. Once in awhile, I will see someone smiling, those are the ones that usually notice me watching them. More times than not they stop smiling and look away like they’ve done something wrong and I wonder, how are we suppose to forgive others when we can’t even control our own guilt and emotions?

Two very American and generic definitions come to mind when I think of forgiveness, Confession of the soul (Church), or the punishment and compensation (State). Neither of which really define a cathartic version of forgiveness concerning society.

So I digress back to the scenario in front of the café and shake my begrudging memory in the hopes to remember one solitary positive example of forgiveness. Business men double checking locked car doors, women sneering at me in the hopes of avoiding any further advances from yet another loser, teenagers mocking my lackadaisical appearance and the list goes on and on…. I begin to feel fear rise inside me. Surely, my memory must be fading. Is it possible for us to become this ineffectual this quickly?

This is when I notice my daughter yelling at me to come outside – quickly. I stop writing the paragraph above and exhale heavily, walk upstairs and open my front door to see this filthy little seven-year-old girl beaming up at me, holding something greedily in her little hands.

“Caught a toad, Dad. Can we make a home for him? Please?”

I roll my eyes, sigh once again, and explain to her yet again that I am doing homework and that I’ll come out to play after I am done. She looks down and stares hard at her little hands for a few seconds. Then she shrugs and smiles and says, “OK.” and runs off talking to her new friend. As I watch her disappear around the corner of the house, I began to remember a dozen times she’s had to shrug and say it was “alright”.