Forgiven

It was one of my most traumatic childhood experience.

I was about 8 years old then and was riding my bicycle that time. I was slowly navigating through the throng of kids playing on our small barrio street when suddenly this little girl streaked-out from a blind alley. I panicked and tried a full stop but my front wheel still nudged her in her left thigh. She fell down taken aback. Hurriedly, I got off my bike to apologize and help her up but she stood up fast as well and ran to her house.

I stood there for a moment and thought that the little girl must be OK since she did not cry at all while she ran away. I proceeded home. Nobody was there yet.

After some minutes, I heard a disturbance outside and saw a lady followed by a small crowd knocking heavily on our steel gate. I went out to talk to her but she pulled me on my arms and, while gripping me tightly, dragged me into their house with the group inquisitively trailing. We came to her house and she shoved me inside.

I saw the little girl again. This time she was crying. With a heart beating like drum, I caught a glance of a slight bruised on her left thigh which without a doubt came from my bike wheel.

The furious lady was her mother!

I tried to speak out but was halted.

The next thing I knew, I was being condemned in full view of our neighborhood; some persons standing inside the house, others on the doorway while others peeking through the window glasses.

The mother ranted and shouted expletives at me and all I could utter were words of apology for hurting her little girl and for not going after her to make sure she was alright.

But the mother would not believe any words I just said and continued her rage and verbal abuse of me and on several occasions, also of my family. To her and to the crowds, I am a hit-and-run criminal on the loose to harm children on the streets so I deserve her full vent of ire.

I felt like a tiny ant being stepped on, so helpless, unaided and humiliated.

After some more minutes that felt like forever, the mother seemingly have used up all her expletive vocabularies and pushed me outside their house. I slowly walked away, crying intensely and never bothering to look back. The crowd was jeering, so I started running away as fast as my small feet can.

I never told my parents about it for fear of more confrontation.
It took many months again before I decided to ride my bike again and much more to use that street way once again.

People can be cruel sometimes.
You make a single mistake and no apology can rectify it in their judgmental hearts.

I am glad that God understands our weaknesses and joyfully accepts our acts of contrition.
In Him we all can find consolation that while making mistakes is human nature, forgiveness is also for every repentant heart.

He did the absolute act of forgiveness when He died for us.
Nothing and nobody can take that away from us.

May we all be able to reflect and to immerse ourselves again in His mercy especially during this Holy Week.

God bless us all.