I’m watching a show. We all know the name of it. It’s a contest to find the next big star in the music industry. The producers like to highlight specific contestants to draw more appeal for their plight and make us pick up the phone and vote for them later in the highly publicized singing competition. The Casey Kasum sound-alike host touts on about how that day in Orlando, Florida had brought many hopefuls auditioning for a plethora of reasons. Stardom. Generations before them who had been musicians. Parents who spent thousands of dollars to feed their babies’ dreams. Confidence. Hope. But this young man? His primary reason was redemption. He had spent some time in jail after going on an ‘adventure’ at 15 which included robbing a bank with a bb gun. Tears escaped this rough young man’s eyes in a way that left you certain it wasn’t a common occurance. As he spoke of bringing joy to his family it brought a smile to the shadowed face under his cowboy hat, and as quickly as it flashed across his face, tears began to silently glide down his cheeks. His voice-over expressed his desire to inspire many times the joy in his family with his (hopeful) success than the horrible pain he’d caused them with his poor choices.

The emotion stayed with me long after I finished the show, leaving an echo of that sentiment all day which I couldn’t fully shake. In order to let it go, I had to take a hard look at exactly what it was that was causing me to feel this way.

Redemption. It’s an inspiring thought. An honorable intention. I understood by the expressions of his family that he had achieved redemption. And at that same moment, I realized that it would be much more elusive for me.

I don’t think I’m really wanting to delve into the philosophical as much as just understand the emotional aspect of the whole thing. Whatever the ‘whole thing’ actually IS.

I’ve learned that letting people into your heart means showing them not only your pretty, but your ugly as well. There was a time I felt that those who knew me understood my heart and who I am at my core. That they saw the ‘ugly’ and made peace with it. I felt that the love I hold for all people simmply because their hearts beat somehow was a symbol to others thath I was a good person. A compassionate person. Maybe I had hoped that in spite of how incredibly inadequate I have always felt, deep inside there really was someone worthy of the love her Creator had bestowed upon her. Then I made choices that let the Ugly out. And, as expected, my life divided into two groups. Those who love me no matter what, and those who never did. It has been an incredibly painful experience and I’m not really looking to place nametags on folks. I just want to express that it’s affected how I write, how I think and inevitably how I am willing to express those feelings here.

Exploring my relationships (if you can even call them that) with those people in my life has been very painful. Some I have simply walked away from. Others I have closed myself off to, not allowing them access to the deeper parts of me to do any more damage. Still others I have dug in my heels and turned to face, expressing in no uncertain terms that I am not afraid, not backing down, and not stooping to their level. In many ways it is those people I have drawn the most strength from during all of this. And I keep that little piece of victory to strengthen me in those moments when I’m not feeling quite so strong.

Circling back to the idea of redemption, I think about those people I felt close to who were almost brutal in their dealings with me when this all began. Some have come around and while we haven’t spoken of the specifics, we have made a semblance of peace. And every little bit helps.

But as I think about the bits of peace here and there, I am reminded that my redemption will never be complete. Family, friends or even strangers will always be there to remind me what I’ve done. It’s not the neat-and-tidy storybook ending. I have love and family, but I also have pain and unforgiveness.

It’s figuring out what to do with the messy parts that serves to remind me just how far away from storybook we all are. Because although there are those who would love to point at me and my shortcomings and claim to be superior, the truth is we all have areas that, if dissected, would paint us as horrific human beings. It’s the people who can know that and love you anyway who are worth the little time we really have here.

And so, my friends, here’s to you, for you are worth it.

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