Grandma passed on peacefully a week ago. No struggling, no crying in pain. She just slept and her heart came to a gradual stop.
The last glimmer of hope dimmed and vanished into the shadows.
No forgiveness. No reconciliation.
Is it difficult to say “I’m sorry”?
Must we cling on so tenaciously to a wounded pride and continually insist on what we deem to be rightfully ours?
What can we consider as ours any way?
Do we really have any rights?
Burdened so heavily by the need for reconciliation, I can only turn to the cross for now.
“….at the cross I bow my knee, where your love was shed for me, there’s no greater love than this…. you have overcome the grave, your glory fills the highest place, what can separate me now…”
