Regret, I read recently, is a sign that something is wrong, not in the past, but now. Because, I guess, if you're basically content, or at least functioning in the present, you must be okay with the past, you've made your peace, voila! no regrets.
Regret is sticking hard to me. It's the big round decade-ending birthday looming ahead. I look back on all the things that never happened in my life, and aren't going to. I must be responsible, because it is my life.
Time bends backward twenty years, thirty years, and then springs forward and tears a big aching hole in the fabric of the present. Regret.
Thin fabric.
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- Perverse Lutheran
- What is a perverse Lutheran? As a child memorizing Luther’s Small Catechism I learned to say “This is most certainly true” with the emphasis on the adverb. But now, older, wiser, and more contrary, I ask, “Is this — most certainly — true?” You won't find anything of much importance in the big wide world here. But I've been blogging for a long time and a lot has happened—stories of grief and joy, wonder and grace, questions asked, answered, and stewed over. What does it all mean? And does it mean anything if I don't take time to sit and write about it?
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