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It’s so [easy] to say I’m sorry

Well, now that it’s gained national attention, the students apologized. Oh, to be a fly on the wall in those students’ homes, parents lashing out about how they could “do such a thing” and “do you realize how this makes us look?” and the whatnot. 

Well, students, I do not accept your apology. I don’t believe you’re sorry; I think you’re sorry you got caught. 
I know, perhaps it’s up to the bus monitor to actually accept the apology, and in her 65 years of wisdom, she probably will. But I’m still too idealistic. I refuse the apology. 
It’s too easy to screw up and simply apologize your way out of it. Or worse: say “I’m just kidding.” One of the scriptures that hits me close to the heart, which I think should be hung in every middle school classroom, is Proverbs 26:18-19: Like a madman who throws firebrands, arrows and death, so is the man who deceives his neighbor and says, “was I not joking?”
Somehow, like the ways in which we don’t know the weight of our words to hurt, we also don’t realize how insincerity prevents healing. Tossing out an “I’m sorry” as we go on our way doesn’t help bring resolution. We’ve began to treat such words as a way to release us from our own guilt, as opposed to bringing reconciliation. 
Though I can nary remember a Hebrew verb form, I do recall a factoid gained through translating a verse on ox goring. Yes, seriously, ox goring. “If a man’s ox gores another ox…”and then there’s a “gorer of gorers” phrase, meaning “the mother of all oxes that gore”. (Just notch this one on the belt of “learn something new everyday”). IN ANY CASE, in learning about ox goring, we also learned what retributions were to follow if your ox gored either another ox or a person. The cost differed depending on the offense. Also, if it was a habitual gorer. 
The point? Yes, there is one. My professor told us that in Old Testament law, one could not simply say “I’m sorry” and consider the situation resolved. They had to pay retributions. And it wasn’t simply a way to keep things fair – one can not simply replace a beloved ox. But something within the culture – and God’s character, I’m prone to wonder – required you show, not just say, apologies. This is where “eye for eye, tooth for tooth” comes in. The phrase has nothing to do with revenge. It means giving back that which you destroyed. Making amends is about offering, not taking, what was destroyed. 
 
So, if you ask me, these kids need to replace a gored ox. In terms of a fair retribution, I don’t have a lot of suggestions. They made so many cracks about her weight, I’d be inclined to send them to “fat kid camp” (or a kid version of the Biggest Looser) where they can replace their bullying habits by learning confidence and how to overcome life’s challenges with effort instead of pushing others around. 
This situation prompted me to reflect upon how I can help my own kids engage in true repentance. I’m sure there will be times when an offhanded “sorry” is the best we’ll get. But in terms of habits, how do we instill the idea that rectifying the relationship takes priority over relieving our own sense of guilt? How do we steer them, with their I’m Sorrys, toward change? Though my kids recite it, how do they begin to embody the idea that “I’m sorry means I won’t do it again”? 

Lessons from the line in Meijer

Because I seem to spend about 7/8 of my free time in the grocery, it’s my primary opportunity to view the world. What I’ve seen is astounding. Most recently a couple completed their checkout and decided they needed an impulse purchase of beef jerky. So the friendly customer service associate waited patiently (with a growing line of patrons) while Mr. Inconsiderate browsed the dried meat rack. After ringing it in, there was a discrepancy between what showed on the credit card pad and the actual total. The CSA seemed pretty confident in what she was doing, proof that this is likely a regular occurrence. However, the customer was unsure and her language and tone indicated as much. She told the cashier, “Are you sure? Because I’m only running this through ONCE.” 

I tried to make my buggy eyes resume their normal shape. I couldn’t believe people actually talk to other humans in this way, with little to no provocation. Somehow when the woman woke that morning and put on a red shirt and khakis, she was also inviting criticism from anyone who happened to run out of milk and saw aisle 5 had the shortest line. 
I can somewhat understand a tiff at the ball field when emotions are running high (though, seriously, IT’S JUST A GAME). Or a flagrant handwave of one finger when you’re cut off in traffic. But during the simple act of paying for your groceries? Even the worst of baggers deserves the most basic of respect (and, after a separate conversation, they’re not “good” baggers because everyone has different preferences. It’s a total crapshoot on their part). 
So yesterday morning when we watched Matt, I should not have been surprised to watch the clip on the grandma bullied by middle schoolers. As Gail the Staff Psychologist said, “what’s wrong with kids is what’s wrong with adults.” We want to blame “kids these days”, but the Meanie at Meijer had two littles watching her. Kids aren’t picking this up from their imagination, it’s the example set forth before them. 
I’ll say it until I’m blue in the face: words matter. With them God created the heavens and earth. With them we can bite and ravish and destroy one another. And all of them are heard by little ears, not just in the same room but also in the same line. 
If you’re appalled by the video, instead of asking, “what’s wrong with these kids?” perhaps instead reflect, asking, “how do I treat others who owe me absolutely nothing?” 

The great outdoors

Growing up, I wasn’t the “outdoorsy” type. I opted instead for a book on the couch (I know…. I didn’t even read outside) or, when forced into manual labor, I took on kitchen and cleaning duties. I once let my sister seal the driveway while I made spaghetti. I brought them out some lemonade.

Even when exposed to majestic surroundings, it translated to commonplace for me. Huge mountains to see 7 states? Yeah. Okay. Waters so clear you can see hundreds of feet below? Well, that is better than pond water. And the gorgeous and colorful fish that inhabit it? Barely worth a comment. After a little bit of snorkeling I’m ready to get back on the boat and read my book. 
Boats and books. That’s my forte. We spent several summer vacations on Lake Cumberland and my 2nd Family would tease that “there’s Shell, at the front of the boat with her nose in a book.” I rarely skied (I found it quite boring back there, but that’s related to my lack of adventurous spirit to go outside of the wake and risk busting my butt). At times I was covered head-to-toe with towels and hats to prevent worsening a burn. In short, the outdoors and I took combative positions. 
Not much has changed. My husband begs me to join him outside on the porch in the evenings while I prefer my cozy chair and a good blog. 

A friend just remarked about her trip to Gatlinburg and the huge amount of commercialism there; her words: It’s like a carnival threw up all over the natural beautiful landscape.
While I lament the fact we’re teaching our kids to be entertained rather than enjoy the beauty of the natural world, I have to admit my own contribution to the situation. I’m an armchair everything – when it comes to sports, life, parenting, theology…. I’d rather sit and contemplate than get up and participate. My preference seems to lie in figuring out the best way to do things and then telling others how to go about it (hellllloooooo management?).

I would rather read a good story, or think about writing a good story, than live a good story. Or so it seems. I’m allowing the rest of the world to entertain me instead of becoming an interesting character in my own. The most interesting thing I can add to conversation is, “I recently read….”

While I stand behind the value of being well-read, it’s time for me to also become well-lived. I need to allow my surroundings to become as inspiring as the characters or concepts I find on the page. The storm rolling in could speak messages as strongly as the 5-point blog post if I listen. Or perhaps even hearing from my kids and they way in which they experience the world, instead of learning how to help them best interpret it, may feed my soul.

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