To Forgive or Not to Forgive

I am well-aware, faithful reader, that I have let you down in my recent posts, which have had little-to-nothing to do with the absurdities of waiting on tables. In an attempt to right this grievous wrong, please accept this story as a recompense.


We have an elderly couple who define the word “regulars”. When they walk through the door, we automatically reach for the same bottle of wine and sparkling water without waiting for them to ask. We also cook their bread in a specific manner every time, whether it is a lazy Tuesday evening or a busy Saturday night. On second thought, the word “regular” is a bit weak when used in reference to these old folks.

I have waited on them in easy excess of fifty times over the last four years and I have always at least endured the crotchetiness of the old man with a smile on my face. The fact that he is an old buzzard is offset by the fact that his wife is a regal old Southern woman. Over the years I have learned to run all my communication through her, so as to avoid the misfortune of talking to her husband.

Last Friday, I was finishing my third double in as many days, and my usually paltry patience had been worn down, when I was graced with the old couples’ presence.

Now, I could go on and on about how the old man shooed me away as I was pouring him water, but I will refrain. I could also go on and on, detailing the several times he would change his mind throughout the course of his meal, but I will spare you such details. Likewise, I could go on about the continual verbal dressing-down he was trying to work on me, but I will refrain from this as well. Finally, I will refrain from telling you about the fact that the old man complained to anybody who would listen about the horrible waiter he had waiting on him that night.

What I will tell you about is what the old woman would tell me when he had left the table to bring the car around.

As I said before, I have always thought the old woman was about as sweet as anybody I know, even though she keeps a proper distance in the diner-waiter relationship. That is why what she did Friday night caught me completely off-guard. Do you know what she did?

She apologized.

She told me, in very genuine, simple words, that she was sorry for the way her husband had treated me. She said she was afraid her husband had upset me (which, indeed, he had) and that she was sorry on his behalf.

She even told me that her husband was “not the man he used to be.”

Later that night, quite unbeknownst to me, she would call back into the restaurant and again express her apologies to the management for her husband’s unkind behavior.

And wouldn’t you know that this simple act changed me? She introduced the opportunity of forgiveness into the situation. I was faced, as we often are, with an extremely minute, yet extremely important decision. To forgive or not to forgive?

But that is the question that haunts us on a moment-by-moment basis. Will I forgive the one who has wronged me? This is the place Jesus will meet us for sure. It is only through him that I am able to forgive, and so look like my Father in heaven. It is not only the “big” things in life that need to be forgiven, it goes to every moment of our lives.

And what about myself? What if I am my own enemy? What if my actions have left not only those around me devastated, but even my own heart has turned against me? Who can bring forgiveness to me?

This too, is exactly where Jesus, the God-Man will meet us. If we wait for him.