We all walk the fine line between vengeance and forgiveness. 

Life is an unfair game of chess that can bless us for cheating the people we love and brutally punish us for following the rules with honor. Sometimes, it just never feels like our best is good enough. 

Where is the grace in it all?

In this day in age, we are all walking this fine line. Desperately, we want to relinquish the past, but with social media inundating us with buzzwords like “narcissist,” “toxic,” and “trauma bond,” we are overwhelmed…just overwhelmed.

Who knows if it was us who was toxic? Or the ex? Or, perhaps, the family? Who knows where it all began and where it all ended? 

We just don’t know. 

This is what makes forgiveness so hard when we are hurt by those we love and trust.

Our world preaches forgiveness while glamorizing revenge. “Oh, karma is going to kick him in the ass!” 

And that is why we walk the fine line. In my humble opinion, spirituality has become so diluted (Christianity included) that humanity no longer has anything solid to lean on in times of uncertainty. Those who are able to maintain a steadfast faith in God or a higher power are few and far between, while the rest of the world squanders their days muddling over whether or not they should step fully on the path of forgiveness and peace or commit to the path of a more vengeful nature.

I found myself teetering on the fine line for years, and the destruction left in its wake is a regret I will have to live with for the rest of my life. 

But there is grace in it all. That grace is found when we fully step onto the path of forgiveness and consciously choose peace.

Since I was a child, the hell I created for myself kept me firmly on the fine line between vengeance and forgiveness. I carefully wove this wicker basket made of anger, hatred, sarcasm, and bitterness. It destroyed a relationship I truly cared about. In the darkness of grief, I almost lost myself, my daughter, and my life. I was ready to completely turn my back on God, my faith, my family, and, ultimately, myself. There had to have been at least a million angels looking after me and praying for me. 

My breakthrough came when I needed a miracle beyond biblical proportion. Too afraid to talk to God, I reached out to St. Rita (patron saint of impossible causes). I petitioned to her, and I saw a rainbow shortly after. The next day, I made my commitment.

In the shower, of all places, I gave it all up to God. I chose forgiveness, forsake retribution on those who had hurt me, and peace replaced quenched the fires of the hell I stoked for three decades of my precious life. I am on a new path now, and I do not know where it will lead. I do not know if I will see those who got caught in the wake of my fire. Some hurt runs too deep—no amount of reconciliation can heal it. Only God can do that, and only a miracle by His hand can bring about such a reunion.

In the end, we can all agree on one thing: we live in an era where commitment is shunned—half-hearted advances are made in the name of healthy boundary setting. And it is praised.

Diverging from this mainstream ideology was the best thing for my daughter, myself, and my future. I want peace to echo into eternity. 

What do you want to echo into eternity?