Every morning, my prayers include a petition to the Theotokos: Grant me torrents of tears to cleanse my soul from impurity.
Those tears never, ever come. But this morning, as I read this, they came in abundance, along with some body-racking sobs.
I knew Jackie, but she had a different name. After 60 years, I am no longer certain of it, but I think it was Rhonda.
We were also in 6th grade, and I cruelly betrayed her.
Mr. Rittenhouse was a hard task master of a teacher and tolerated no nonsense in his class.
Whenever he caught one of us kids passing a note, he would seize it. Once he had surmised the note's authorship, he would call on the unlucky boy or girl to stand up and read it aloud to the class.|
That morning, it was Rhonda's turn.
I don't remember the fine details, but it went something like this:
Someone along the chain read the note before it could get to me and kept it. Then, he approached me at recess and showed it to me.
"Let's have some fun," he said. "I'll turn it over to Mr Rittenhouse, and she'll have to get up and read it."
I, of course, knew its content and how humiliating that would be for her.
Yet I consented.
It was not out of malice, for sure; it was more a matter of cowardice. Rhonda was not part of the in-crowd like me, and I was afraid my classmates might accuse me of the "wrong" thing if I kept quiet and refused to go along with the prank.
I have long forgotten her exact words, but they were very simple.
Something like "I love you."
I don't remember the look on her face as she stood and confessed to Mr Rittenhouse's demand to know who had written the note; nor do I remember the look in her eyes as she did so, or when she sat down.
The reason is simple: I was too ashamed to look.
I also don't remember what followed. I think it was just me avoiding her and her avoiding me. No words were ever exchanged about it.
The shame has stung me ever since, whenever I have recalled that day.
I too am Steve Robin; I too am Judas.
Steve, your words have been a powerful reminder to me of what Jesus died for and why. They
have helped me to look into His eyes as he hangs there on the Cross, to see the sadness in them and to understand it, even if just a little.
Forgive me, Lord and forgive me, Rhonda, for betraying you both.
If I could find Jackie I'd beg her forgiveness to this day. It is amazing what burdens we are carrying within us for decades. Thank you for sharing your story. Peace, brother.
That was beautiful Steve. I've ordered your book and I'm going to send a copy to my cousin who is still searching for God. He has put God in a box of his own beliefs and he won't look beyond the walls of that box. I think but I'm not sure that he thinks all religions are the same.
I think our search for God has to start with a search of our selves. The book is all about a hard look at our humanity and a need for a "God" that transcends and loves what we find. May it be blessed! Thank you.
Wow!! you always seem to hit the 'nerve' of my soul. Thank you. seems that a lot of folks have stories such as this one - I do for sure. Being an old man, I find myself revisiting these exact 'moments' of my life. Please keep on sharing these stories, these 'Life' experiences. you are gifted and the stories you share provide a sense of healing - for me at least. +
Beautifully written recollection, Dear to Christ! Thank you for sharing and through it, the reminder that I am Judas, Peter, Pilot, etc... But for the Grace and Mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ, I would perish!
Every morning, my prayers include a petition to the Theotokos: Grant me torrents of tears to cleanse my soul from impurity.
Those tears never, ever come. But this morning, as I read this, they came in abundance, along with some body-racking sobs.
I knew Jackie, but she had a different name. After 60 years, I am no longer certain of it, but I think it was Rhonda.
We were also in 6th grade, and I cruelly betrayed her.
Mr. Rittenhouse was a hard task master of a teacher and tolerated no nonsense in his class.
Whenever he caught one of us kids passing a note, he would seize it. Once he had surmised the note's authorship, he would call on the unlucky boy or girl to stand up and read it aloud to the class.|
That morning, it was Rhonda's turn.
I don't remember the fine details, but it went something like this:
Someone along the chain read the note before it could get to me and kept it. Then, he approached me at recess and showed it to me.
"Let's have some fun," he said. "I'll turn it over to Mr Rittenhouse, and she'll have to get up and read it."
I, of course, knew its content and how humiliating that would be for her.
Yet I consented.
It was not out of malice, for sure; it was more a matter of cowardice. Rhonda was not part of the in-crowd like me, and I was afraid my classmates might accuse me of the "wrong" thing if I kept quiet and refused to go along with the prank.
I have long forgotten her exact words, but they were very simple.
Something like "I love you."
I don't remember the look on her face as she stood and confessed to Mr Rittenhouse's demand to know who had written the note; nor do I remember the look in her eyes as she did so, or when she sat down.
The reason is simple: I was too ashamed to look.
I also don't remember what followed. I think it was just me avoiding her and her avoiding me. No words were ever exchanged about it.
The shame has stung me ever since, whenever I have recalled that day.
I too am Steve Robin; I too am Judas.
Steve, your words have been a powerful reminder to me of what Jesus died for and why. They
have helped me to look into His eyes as he hangs there on the Cross, to see the sadness in them and to understand it, even if just a little.
Forgive me, Lord and forgive me, Rhonda, for betraying you both.
If I could find Jackie I'd beg her forgiveness to this day. It is amazing what burdens we are carrying within us for decades. Thank you for sharing your story. Peace, brother.
🙂
That was beautiful Steve. I've ordered your book and I'm going to send a copy to my cousin who is still searching for God. He has put God in a box of his own beliefs and he won't look beyond the walls of that box. I think but I'm not sure that he thinks all religions are the same.
I hope you and Jackie reconciled as friends.
I think our search for God has to start with a search of our selves. The book is all about a hard look at our humanity and a need for a "God" that transcends and loves what we find. May it be blessed! Thank you.
Wow!! you always seem to hit the 'nerve' of my soul. Thank you. seems that a lot of folks have stories such as this one - I do for sure. Being an old man, I find myself revisiting these exact 'moments' of my life. Please keep on sharing these stories, these 'Life' experiences. you are gifted and the stories you share provide a sense of healing - for me at least. +
Beautifully written recollection, Dear to Christ! Thank you for sharing and through it, the reminder that I am Judas, Peter, Pilot, etc... But for the Grace and Mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ, I would perish!