Too Much of a Good Thing: A Hump Day Hmm-er PSA

The prompt for today's Hump Day Hmm-er is Too Much of a Good Thing.

Well, I can start with what I think is too much of a bad thing. (You might want to skip down a bit if you are not interested in a long-winded rant about my daughter's ear.)



This is my daughter passed out on the couch. She was up around 5 a.m. because of an earache. She went back to sleep around 5:45 a.m. and at 9:30 a.m. was still asleep. She is missing a day of Art Camp because of the earache that won't go away--at least not for long. Since the second week of July we have been trying to tame this earache beast. To no avail. I was sure it was swimmer's ear, an external ear canal infection, because she was in pain when she touched her ear and when she opened her mouth too wide.

Doctor Visit #1: It isn't an external infection, it is an inner one. Give her this five-day antibiotic and keep her out of the pool.

One week later... Her ear starts hurting again. She was in the pool one time at the end of the week with ear plugs. Except for the absence of fever this time, the symptoms are the same including pain when pushing on the ear.

Doctor Visit #2: Her ear is a little bit pink. The ear infection is resolving itself still. Don't give her any more medication except for ibuprofen if her ear hurts. Don't know why it hurts when she touches it. Maybe she is getting some molars that are exacerbating the problem. Keep her out of the pool until her ear stops hurting.

Two weeks later... She has been kept out of the pool for about 10 days. She gets two days (Thursday and Saturday) splashing in a small, inflatable pool in our front yard. On Saturday, I notice her digging in the "bad" ear. I ask her if it hurts. She assures me she doesn't. On Sunday, the same thing happens again. I ask her again if it hurts. She tells me no that it just itches. Sunday evening she is crying that her ear hurts again. I put her back on the ibuprofen.

Monday I call the doctor's office. At visit number two, he had given me a prescription in case she got worse. Because we had days of no ear pain, I think I should call him first. The nurse returns my call and says that he should see her. I make an appointment for Wednesday (today). Yesterday afternoon, Marley starts complaining about her ear. Usually, it is a morning/evening kind of thing because of the cooler air. I have to give her an extra dose of ibuprofen. During bedtime, she is avoiding teeth brushing and in the fuss she bumps her ear. She starts bawling because it hurts. Bad.

After she goes to sleep, I decide to look up swimmer's ear. Just for kicks, you know. Here is what I found:

If your ear aches and you pull on it, wiggle it or push on that little bump (called the tragus) in front of the ear canal and it really hurts, you don't have just any old earache. You have swimmer's ear, an inflammation of the external ear canal (known in medical circles as otitis externa).

I sit on the couch, watching a re-run of House (one of the two "It's a tapeworm!" episodes) and I am fuming. Why should it take three co-pays, possibly two prescriptions, and two different doctors to figure this out? Earaches don't just ache. They hurt... a lot. I remember them vividly. I remember swimmer's ear especially as I had two very bad cases of it, one as a teen and one as an adult.

Grrrr...

Anyway, I just had to get that out of my system. Hopefully when we go for Doctor Visit #3, I won't snap at the doctor. In general, I find him to be quite good. After all, he is the doctor who listened to a teary, desperate woman last year as I told him my list of symptoms which all sounded like hormones and depression and accepted it when I told him that I knew it wasn't hormones or depression. He asked a few questions and shipped me off for a sleep study.

But I am not leaving this doctor's appointment without some ear drops for my daughter.

Moving on, you probably have forgotten that this was supposed to be a Hump Day Hmm-er post. Without further adieu...


The Sun.


A flaming ball of fire. If Earth were too far from the sun, life couldn't exist on this planet. If Earth were too close to the sun, life couldn't exist on this planet. We are just the right distance.

That is a good thing.

Even so, there is still a thing as too much sun.

Too much sun trying to get a tan and when you are older, you might look like this:

(This is actually a rock, but you get the idea, right?)

Too many sunburns, or just too much exposure to the sun in general and you might get this:

(I know, I know, it is disgusting. But skin cancer just ain't pretty, that is all there is to it.)

I was inspired to write about too much sun because I saw that sun picture online today. It made me think about someone I know who has just had two surgeries to remove a melanoma on her leg. Married, mother to three, she is pursuing alternative medicine to heal her body.

I think about a favorite blogger who is waiting to have a mole removed and biopsied.

I remember the eight moles I have had removed. The last one over three years ago. Four or five of those moles were dysplastic nevi, the kind that are more likely to develop into melanoma. (Why haven't I been to the dermatologist in so long?)

I still enjoy getting out in the sun. (I've never, ever been one of those sun worshiper types. A little bit of sun just feels good.) If I am at the beach I always wear sunscreen. However, I've become more diligent about it even for every day use. I always wear sunglasses and often a hat. I've considered a one-woman campaign to bring back the parasol. Some of it is vanity. My skin looks older than 42. Blech! I am also more diligent because I know I am getting to the age where things start to happen. It doesn't mean it is going to. But it might.

The sun is good. We can't live without it. It is a force to be reckoned with, however, and we should be careful about thinking there is no such thing as too much sun.


For more information on sun protection and skin cancer, try The Skin Cancer Foundation.

The Things They Carried: A Hump Day Hmm-er Double Header

The things they carried were largely determined by necessity.

What they carried was partly a function of rank, partly of field specialty.

They carried catch-as-catch-can.

What they carried varied by mission.

If a mission seemed especially hazardous, or if it involved a place they knew to be bad, they carried everything they could.

On ambush, or other night missions, they carried peculiar odds and ends.

The things they carried were determined to some extent by superstition.

Often, they carried each other, the wounded or weak.

For the most part they carried themselves with poise, a kind of dignity. Now and then, however, there were times of panic, when they squealed or wanted to squeal but couldn't, when they twitched and made moaning sounds and covered their heads and said Dear Jesus and flopped around on the earth and fired their weapons blindly and cringed and sobbed and begged for the noise to stop and went wild and made stupid promises to themselves and to God and to their mothers and fathers, hoping not to die.

They carried the sky.

They carried their own lives.

The above are all quotes from Tim O'Brien's book, The Things They Carried. When I first began to ponder last week's Hump Day Hmm-er, this book immediately came to mind. I flipped through the book looking for a quote--one quote--to use and so many of O'Brien's sentences seemed to be metaphors for Life. In my Life backpack, I carry with me the basic necessities: faith, family, friends. I carry some things according to my specialty/rank of motherhood. I carry odds and ends, peculiar to some, that I have picked up along the way (fanatic faith in Myers-Briggs Temperament theory, just to name one).

Like the young men, O'Brien describes, I hope I carry myself with poise and dignity, at least some of the time. I have known those moments of panic, though, when I have cried out to God and flopped on my bed (instead of the earth) and made moaning sounds.

I realized along the way that the soldier metaphor is imperfect, though, as I thought about all the things in life you have to let go. (Coincidentally, this week's roundtable topic was just that: how do you let it go?) And while O'Brien says that the soldiers "would often discard things along the route of march," it isn't always so easy to discard our emotional baggage, as necessary as it might be to our welfare.

If only it were.

Even when we manage, through perseverance and hard work, to overcome a major obstacle in life, you still carry the memories of it. It may still determine choices you make. I'm not sure it ever truly leaves you.

Perhaps then, it becomes more about finding a way reduce its size and weight enough so that you can pack it in with everything else you need and want to carry with you, leaving you free to continue your journey in Life.

The Song Remains the Same

I met tonight with Book Club #1 to discuss Song of Solomon by Toni Morrison. Those of us who finished it all agreed it is an excellent book. Macon "Milkman" Dead floats through life without any vision or purpose. As an adult, still living at home with his parents, he strikes his father at the dinner table before his father can strike Ruth, Milkman's mother. Afterwards, his father comes to him to explain his actions and to warn Milkman that he shouldn't assume his father won't fight back the next time. His explanation of why he has so much contempt for Ruth leaves Milkman uncomfortable and unsure. Later in the novel, Ruth tells her side of the story. Eventually, Milkman learns facts his parents aren't even aware of which put the events of the Dead family's lives in even greater perspective. Milkman is able to reinterpret the words and actions of his parents. His view of the world changes as he gains in knowledge of his family history and through his experiences. This peeling back of the initial layer of an event to reveal a deeper layer happens frequently throughout the story. Words and actions which seem easily interpreted have entirely new meanings as more information comes along.

I had a strong response to this. As I read about Milkman's discoveries, such as his grandmother's real name being Sing and how that completely changed the message his grandfather's ghost had shared with Pilate, his aunt, I thought about the times in my life when I have experienced my point of view changing based on a new piece of family information, revelations which have not always been positive. Sometimes the perspective I have gained has been disheartening.

In addition to reading A Song of Soloman, a recent event and last week's round table discussion over at The Ravin' Picture Maven's blog have had me thinking about secrets and lies in the context of family. Specifically, I've been pondering the secrets I have learned about my family and whether or not to share that information with my children, and if so, when. It is a tricky thing--knowing when and when not to divulge family history which has been kept secret. First, because it is often only secret to a few. Next, you are often only one of several people involved and it is hard to know exactly what is yours to tell.

The temptation to keep the secret is strong. If you keep it, there are fewer people to by angry at you. There is less explaining to do--not as many questions to answer. Milkman's mother and father kept their secrets for a long time. But, a foundation of secrets is like the proverbial house built on the sand. When the storms come, the sand is washed away and the foundation crumbles. Before the Dead family's relationships could improve, that house of sand had to be demolished.

Revealing the secret can also be a strong temptation. The pressure of knowing and pretending not to know is released like steam from a kettle's spout. To reveal information that is suppressed can be a way of saying, "Don't you understand me better now that you know this?" However, the revelation can also be a way of passing along a burden you are uncomfortable bearing and once you've shared it, you cannot un-share it. By attempting to divide the burden by sharing it, you might end up multiplying it.

Ultimately, I don't know that there is one answer which will fit every circumstance and let you know when to share and when not to share. For Milkman Dead, his journey of perspective changes his life for the better. He learns the truth about himself and his family origins and is able to help enlighten his father and aunt, to widen their perspective also.

I still have Frost's miles to go on my journey, but I think I prefer the knowing to the not knowing and I have hope that what is now a source of discouragement has already changed my life for the better and will continue to do so.

A Pair of Ducks? No, a Paradox!

The Hump Day Hmmms are hosted by Julie, The Ravin' Picture Maven. It's a long story, but basically, she is posting a question on a Wednesday to be answered the following Wednesday on your own blog. The questions have so far been explorations in Justice and Forgiveness. She links up all the posts each week so that it is easier to click your way through all the deep thinking.

Reading this week's Hump Day Hmmm prompt, which was to consider the idea of "Accidents of Birth," my first thought was to consider things from a personal angle. But for the family I was born into, I might have been, dot, dot, dot. Two thoughts then occurred to me.

Thought One: All of my Hump Day Hmmm posts have been about me. All. About. Me. Blech. Ugh. I'm feeling more than a little narcissistic about it all.

Thought Two: Do I even believe in accidents of birth? Hmmm. . . And the answer? Yes. No. Both/And.

So now, the burden on my shoulders is to explain that; however, I don't know if I can. I tend to just "arrive" at certain conclusions like one of those cooks (the kind I am not) who can just throw in a pinch of this and a handful of that and come up with something delicious. Well, I'm actually more like the pot into which all the ingredients get thrown. After it all simmers for awhile, it is something good.

Let me tackle the "Accident of Birth? No" first. One day in high school, a friend of mine handed me a book called Illusions by Richard Bach. For those of you who are not familiar with it, it is the story of a messiah who quits. The story on its own it quite interesting. The problem is that the author believes most of what he is saying, that you are the director of your own life's film. If there is something you don't like in your life, it is because you put it there. There are lots of quotes like this: "Every person, all the events of your life, are there because you have drawn them there. What you choose to do with them is up to you." Now, this is similar to The Secret which has as its focus that you can make good things happen for yourself by believing in them enough. (My understanding of The Secret is quite sketchy and has been pieced together from what other people have said to me about it. Please feel free to correct me if I am wrong.) I think that The Secret might focus more on making positive things happen and Illusions is more open about believing that your life is your own creation, good or bad. If it is bad, there's a reason only you can know to explain it.

I completely disagree with that philosophy. (This also includes my differing with the Christianized version of "The Secret" which is sometimes referred to at the Prosperity Gospel or Word of Faith ministries. This version inserts your belief in Jesus, your really, really strong belief in Jesus as being the answer to your woes, material or otherwise.)

Next up? "Accident of Birth? Yes."

There are various belief systems which might hold that either there is no Creator or that while God may exist, it/he/she does not intervene in the natural order of things. Thus, whether you are born, where you are born and what circumstances you are born into is more of an accident of birth. Blame for who you are, where you are and how you are might be placed on human sociological structures or on other philosophical explanations.

If you have read this blog on any given Monday, you know I don't agree with that.

We are left with "Accident of Birth? Both/And." If I had a genie and three wishes, one of them right now would be absolute clarity of expression right now. But I don't have a genie. What should follow then is more fumbling and stumbling and I should just get to it.

I believe in God. The God. The God of Abraham. God the Father, who sent the Son. That Son. The "For God so loved the world he sent his only son that whoever believes in him" Son.

I believe that God is omniscient, omnipresent and omnipotent. (AoB: No)

I believe we have free will. (AofB: Yes)

Although I believe he knows the number of hairs on my head (AoB: No), I think I have choices to make. Choices every day which have an impact not only on me but on those around me. (AoB:Yes)

Although I believe he knew me in the womb and that throughout history, he has called specific people in specific places for specific purposes (AoB: No) , I don't think that is true of every person who is alive today or who has ever lived. (AoB: Yes)

Are you confused yet? I think I am. Are these beliefs of mine paradoxical? I think so. (AoB: Both/And)

The question remains, then, how this belief affects my view of the world and the inequities which exist in it--whether they be physical (disabilities) or material (geographic or socioeconomic, resources and privileges or lack thereof). The answer is simply that I don't know. I have my Weltenschauung (A tip of the hat to my dreaded Interpretations in Historical Studies professor.) and even within that, it is difficult to reconcile the disparities of Life. And, after some growing up, I've learned that I cannot thrust my beliefs upon someone else. I can't tell someone that their circumstances as an individual or that the circumstances of a whole group of people can be or should be dismissed by a simple "It's the Lord's will" or "God is in control." For myself, I try, feebly and with many lapses, to trust God that it will all work out for the best, that his perspective is greater and truer than mine. I try not to hold the circumstances of my life--the ones over which I had no control--against him. I try not to even linger too much on the "what ifs" of my life.

It all remains to be seen whether I am right or I am wrong.

Hindsight is 23/43

Updated below due to my realizing significantly after the fact that I had only answered part of the question. D'oh!

When Julie posed her question last week about forgiving the Fates using the example of the man who was in a coma for 20 years only to wake up and find a changed world, she asked us to imagine ourselves in the same circumstances--either waking up today after being in a coma for twenty years or falling into a coma today and waking up in twenty years. This has been percolating in my brain all week and I actually discussed it yesterday with a friend as we sat and shared a coffee together. It came up in our conversation because we were discussing some of the tragedies that befall people.

As I talked to her, I realized a couple of things. One, emotionally, I can't really go to the place of thinking about what would happen if I went into a coma now and woke up in twenty years. When I try, it feels as if there is some thick veil, transparent, but impossible to push aside. So. I won't. Two, when I consider the "ifs" of waking now from a two decade coma, the biggest, biggest realization that strikes me is how much growing I would have to do, emotionally speaking. The last two decades, almost the same number of years I have been married, has been a time of the most intense personal growth. I guess that is probably normal, although I do know people who just never seem to get to the "next stage" in their emotional evolution.

At 23 years of age, Paul and I were just getting back together after a split that lasted several months. He had just moved to Texas and I would be following him there in August. Moving away from my family and friends, adjusting to life with Paul, I was at a place where I began dealing with some of the issues of my life. I don't know what it is like for other people, but it took being married to allow me the stability to start processing some of that stuff. As the years passed, new issues came up. On one hand, I would love to say that I wish they'd never happened, but when I think about the catalyst for growth they were, I am at least grateful that something positive came out of them.

At 23, I was a bright, articulate, insecure, young woman. I did not see my potential and it never really occurred to me to strive to me something more. I had many fears and had a hard time planning for the future. I could not sit with my discomfort, emotional or physical. I was a good listener and a loyal friend. Seeds of discernment which would later grow into a gift of wisdom were growing but still tender and vulnerable. The intuition and insight which has served me so well was there but obscured at times by my will and prejudices.

At 43, I am sometimes still disturbingly similar to that younger version of my self. But really, that is only a fraction of the time. I'm still bright and often articulate, although parenting and wear and tear sometimes muddles my clarity. I can look back and see the opportunities I might have taken and feel some regret. I weigh that with the possibilities I still might take advantage of and hope that I will take more chances. I wrestle with planning but the future but understand what is good and necessary about doing so. I'm still a little wimpy physically, I think, but am more able to tolerate pain and ill feeling. Emotionally, I have experienced enough to know that most things pass and that if you can just hold on, you will be okay. I am still a good listener and a loyal friend. When I let my attitudes and ego go, I can be wise. I still trust my intuition and insight, but also know enough to allow for other possibilities.

All in all, I liked myself at 23, but I am so glad that I am the 43 year old me. I'm glad this is just an exercise and not a reality. I really wouldn't want to learn all that I have all over again. I've got other things to learn right now.

***********************

After going through and reading other people's responses to this week's questions, I realize I didn't really address the third part of Julie's question:

What if I awoke after almost 20 years...how would I deal with all I missed, life as it is after my absence, and reintegrating myself into life? How would I do it? How would I deal with it? How would I forgive fate for all I had missed and lost? Would it be easy or hard? Would my gratitude of a second chance overwhelm me?

There are probably two answers to this: the 23 year old Mary's and the 43 year old Mary's. Young Mary, scared and confused, would probably withdraw. Losing herself in television and books, she might find it easier to avoid the world rather than deal with it. Spiritually, I don't think Young Mary would really cope with it all until and unless she connected with some other Christians she could feel safe with. If there happened to still be friends around, that would make a big difference. They would be touchstones, people to ask questions, people to hold her hand and to listen. Given people like that around, I think Young Mary would cycle through disbelief, anger, fear, excitement, gratitude. Eventually, she would be okay.

Not So Young Mary. Hmmm. . . I think if I woke up from a coma at 63 and Paul, Colin and Marley were in any way able to journey with me, I would be okay faster than Young Mary. I would be jealous, I think, of all I missed and disoriented at the adjustments it would be necessary to make, but so happy to have my family near me. Throw in some friends and I really think I'd be good to go. I'm sure I would still have my times of withdrawal, but I think they would be fewer and of less duration than Young Mary would experience.

As far as forgiveness? I think I would forgive God. Of course, all these scenarios have the underlying assumption that other than that pesky 20 year coma, my health is fine. To realistically understand the physical difficulties and limitations of someone who has been immobile for so long, well, I'm not sure I could ever do justice or even truly be able to imagine all that and I think my faith would most definitely be more challenged.

When my friend and I were having coffee the other day and this subject came up, one of the stories she told me was about listening to a woman who lost her entire family in a fire talk about moving on. I remember hearing about that fire when it happened. Both the parents initially got out of the house and were waiting for the firemen to come. Finally, the husband could not wait any longer while his children were inside and so he went in. When it was all over, they found his body on the stairs, holding his youngest child. My friend looked at me and said that she could imagine moving on if her husband died. She thought she could try if both her children died, but not her husband, but if all three died, she didn't think she would want to go on. She clarified that she believed God could help people get through anything, but that she didn't think she would let God or want God to help her. She would just want to give up.

I thought about that for a minute, and in my classic extroverted way, it wasn't until I said the following out loud that I realized I believed it. I said to her that I could completely see someone feeling that way but that maybe that is one way that God works, that sometimes, he takes a person who doesn't even want to survive their circumstances and brings them around, slowly and tenderly. She looked at me and said she thought so, too. The woman who lost her family? She turned her home into a shelter for any and every kind of person who is lost in some way and needs help.

A Gift Too Lightly Received

What has the experience of being forgiven been like for you?

Well, I have only myself to blame for asking Julie this question. Now, she has posed it as the next topic in her Hump Day Hmmm Round Table discussions. And, per my usual, I'm a day (or more) late in getting my post up. I could apologize but I know I get tired of hearing people apologize for the same thing over and over again. Sometimes changed behavior is the best apology.

But I digress...

Having boldly asked The Ravin' Picture Maven, in response to her post on her personal experiences with forgiving others, how she receives the forgiveness of others, I realize that this is hard. Very hard. It requires something of a personal life inventory and I realize that I've not been very appreciative of the forgiveness I've received in my life. If you know me well, you might say that I've not done all that much which requires the forgiveness of others and yes, I've never murdered anyone, had an affair or cheated someone out of their inheritance. But I have said unkind things, unthinking things, been cold-hearted, all-knowing, along with other garden-variety transgressions, especially with family. All these "little" things have added up, I think. Something like a landfill. Over the years, the piles get higher and stinkier.

Sometimes I have apologized, many times I have not. Regardless of whether or not I asked for forgiveness, I received it. You do not reach the 19 year marker in marriage without having been the recipient of forgiveness. You do not have a long term friendship without needing it. You are not a daughter without having received it. You are not a parent without being given total and instantaneous forgiveness on occasion. Yes, I blithely go through Life, ranting about the Universe and Everything else I can think of without being grateful for the gift of being forgiven.

So, there it is, my answer to how I experience the forgiveness of others: negligently and without proper thought and gratitude. Ouch! Sometimes this self-reflective process is less than pleasant.

I am glad, though, that through this process, I was able to stop and think about this. I have an opportunity to publish this post and then go on about my business, changing nothing. Or, I can take this observation to heart, make a point of asking for forgiveness more often and appreciating it when it is given to me. I hope I go with that last one.





(I chose not to address the big Forgive that I received when I became a Christian. I've been feeling a little preachy lately, both in some of my posts and my comments and if you come around here very often, you know what I believe and that it is a foundational thing for me from which all my thoughts about Life, the Universe and Everything are based.)

The Evolution of Awareness

This might be awkward, disjointed, incoherent... so, I apologize in advance if this is unreadable.

Julie has been coordinating a series of roundtable discussions on justice, forgiveness, compassion, etc. The first series was to compare justice and forgiveness and answer the question of which was of greater necessity. The second series provided several prompts to choose from. I didn't manage to get anything in for that one. The latest pass was to approach it more personally and to share your story with one of these concepts. It was difficult for me to participate last week for a couple of reasons, but one was that I think I took a pretty personal approach in my first offering. I haven't been sure what to say.

I read some of the other entries for the week and I did get some ideas. I tried putting together something really powerful using Douglas Coupland and Annie Dillard quotes and everything. Alas, that intellectual souffle' collapsed. A souffle is pretty tricky and you really have to know what you are doing. Apparently, I do not! ;)

Still, I do feel strongly about participating. I don't want to disappoint Julie. She has put a lot of energy and thought into the Hump Day Hmmm posts and I want to honor that. Plus, I am challenged by what Julie and others have to say. Julie reminds me of another very bright friend I have. He and I engage in philosophical discussions and it is all I can do to hold my own. I feel like I'm swimming in a pool dog-paddling while my friend is swimming laps at Olympic pace. I think I benefit from these discussions though. They are good intellectual exercise for me. I may not be swimming with perfect form yet, but I think I'm dog-paddling faster.

So, what I wanted to say, only much more eloquently, is that my journey with forgiveness and justice and compassion and mercy has been one of gradual awareness. First, as concepts, followed by experience. As a child, I was very fearful. Much of my emotional and intellectual energy was spent managing this fear. As I entered junior high, I had more capacity to think about other things. I tended though, to reflect the opinions of the adults around me. I trusted them and didn't know to question their perspectives. High School brought more sophisticated thought. I realized I had opinions other than those of some of the adults and kids around me. It was during my high school years that "Mary" truly began taking shape as a questioner and participant in philosophical talks. Being a part of a youth group at church really encouraged this because we spent a lot of time talking about God and how he works in the world.

As I mentioned in my first roundtable post, I felt very comfortable with justice at this time. I loved justice and wanted to see it meted out quite regularly, with consistency and without much mercy. (I kind of laugh about this now. For Pete's sake, I was a card-carrying evangelical Christian, and while I know that many people have had less than compassionate experiences with the Church, I was never taught to be so severe in my faith. I knew about grace and compassion, really I did. I think that I was kind of wired up that way. I wanted things to be fair, plus, the arrogance of youth is just that: arrogant.)

I don't think it was really until I was in my twenties that I became more familiar with compassion, mercy and grace. I had a friend who became pregnant. It was quite the shock and caused quite a buzz. She was the daughter of an elder and had been "raised right." I think I kicked into mercy mode for her because so many others didn't. More lessons on mercy and compassion followed. The best lessons were those where I was the recipient of mercy or compassion or justice. I recently watched Something's Gotta Give with Diane Keaton and Jack Nicholson. There is a scene where Diane's character has a major realization. She understands that she can't be okay with Jack's character and how he handles relationships. Weeping, she says something to him along these lines: "I know what this is. I've written it a hundred times, but I never really knew. Do you know what this is? It's heartbroken." She gives him one last kiss and leaves. I think that is true for these ideas we've been talking about. We truly understand mercy when we receive it; forgiveness when we are forgiven, etc.

Through all this, God has been my guide. He hasn't always worked through the Church or other Christians, although he often has. Sometimes a Christian's best examples of justice, forgiveness, compassion and mercy come from people who don't share his/her beliefs. And just when I think I have it, when I know everything there is to know about any of these concepts, something happens and I am floored with a new awareness--a different perspective. I'm grateful for that. I don't really every want to know it all. I want to always be a person who is willing to learn and grow and who can be impacted by the world around her.