I was given a great gift this morning, though I am only just beginning to realize how great. I finished the letter just as the sky began to brighten with the first rays of the rising sun. I changed the track on the CD I was listening to, shut the notebook in which I had been writing, and closed my eyes. I wanted to spend some time in meditation and prayer. I found myself with little to say to God, other than the words with which I always begin. I listened with more attention and awareness, more peace. I didn’t catch myself dozing off despite the early hour and how tired I was.

Yesterday I was determined to write a new post for my blog, just to have something to do. It was that or go to my easel and work on a painting I started a couple of days ago. I will do most anything to avoid painting. It is unbelievably boring to write about painting, even to me, but I did. It would never do as a post.

Then I had an idea. I whipped out a great post that ultimately was all about a very ugly time in my marriage and why I would never forgive my ex-husband for what happened. Every word of it was justified, and every word of it was true. It was superbly written, a good read in a voyeuristic slice of life kind of way. It needed only the most minor of editing.

Here is the divine intervention, the miracle. I decided not to post it right away. I decided to wait until the next day, today, to edit it one more time. I wanted to make sure I didn’t use the same word too many times, and check that I had explained things clearly enough to follow my reasoning without a glitch. Then I would post it.

 For the past several weeks I have been working, as part of a spiritual program of which I am a part, on making amends to those I have harmed. My ex-husband is on that list, albeit in the “this might never happen” column. I have been thinking about writing him a letter, but I haven’t been able to bring myself to even start. 

Last night I woke in the middle of the night, and read from one of the many spiritually oriented books I keep on my bedside table. Suddenly I was thrust into the realization that the writing I had finished but not posted was vicious. It was petty; it maligned the character of someone not present to defend himself. At the very least it sliced him up like hard salami buzzing through a deli meat slicer, and left me smelling like a rose. Maybe not everyone reading it would realize that, but I would. I was struck by just how close I had come to pushing that button to publicize that writing. Like the unforgivable words we sometimes say to others in the heat of anger, once out those utterances can never be taken back.

I got up and went into my meditation room and got out my notebook. I wrote a long letter, full of gratitude for all the things I could bring to mind that were blessings across our thirty year marriage. There were many. I said I was sorry for all the venomous thoughts and wishes I have sent his way since we divorced. I thanked him for all the things, both good and bad, that helped me grow as a person. I promised to try to be a better person in the future.

I don’t know if he will ever see the letter, but the peace that came over me as I closed my notebook was nothing short of a gift. The gift of Grace. I laid down a great burden for myself letting go of resentment I wasn’t even aware I still carried. As I meditated this morning I was filled with quiet, and with peace. I saw as I opened my eyes again, that the sky had turned a brilliant orange. The sun broke over the horizon and streamed into my room. I went back to bed and slept a couple of hours. I awoke still filled with that same peace. For me, it really is a new day.