Sometimes it seems as if our lives are riddled with guilt. A feeling that one is guilty is like a bad verdict read out in court. But our internal jury is tougher.
Fender-bender: No getting around it. You have to come home and report it. Everyone can see the damage.
You trip on your shoe, and clumsily regain your balance, hoping no one saw. Because of course, it is a character flaw.
Your doctor looks over your blood test results. Some are not normal. Did I cause this? What will he/she think of me?
You can’t get into your email. You can’t find your list of passwords. You don’t want to ask for help. It’s happening more frequently.
You make a snide remark about someone. It was only out of frustration. You’re glad she didn’t hear you. Or did she read it in your face?
Such harsh standards. We don’t come up to the mark. Someone will find us out. So be bold! Tell your small story at the dinner table! It’s amazing and wondrous what you will learn about everybody else. The therapy of community is what St. Benedict knew very well.