- an act of redeeming or atoning for a fault or mistake, or the state of being redeemed.
- deliverance; rescue.
- Theology. deliverance from sin; salvation.
- atonement for guilt.
- repurchase, as of something sold.
- paying off, as of a mortgage, bond, or note.
“People find meaning and redemption in the most unusual human connections.”
— Khaled Hosseini, author of The Kite Runner
“Hell is yourself and the only redemption is when a person puts himself aside to feel deeply for another person.”
— Tennessee Williams
You cannot walk this path alone. Believe me. I’ve tried.
It is easy to lose your way, to stray off course by degrees until you have no idea where you are or how you got there. What’s worse is you have no idea how to get back. And it’s there, alone, bewildered, confused, disconnected that the demons taunt you, deriding you for your hope of rescue. They chastise you for your dreams of healing and wholeness. They parade shame and unworthiness in front of you in an unending Sorcerer’s Apprentice-like sequence. Every mistake. Every misstep. Every awkward moment. Unrelenting. Remorseless. Crushing.
I know. I’ve been there. More than once. Always the same condemning theme: This is why I am unlovely. I am alone. Terrifyingly alone.
It’s easy to forget. It’s easy to turn away from the mirror and forget who you are.
It only takes one person who really sees you. It might be a friend, a mentor, a confidante, a counselor. It may even be someone who reads something you’ve shared in a heartbeat of uncharacteristic and desperate vulnerability and said, “Mmhmm.” One person to say “I see you”, one person to say “This is the truth of who you are.”
Choose wisely, oh my heart. It is a grand and terrible thing to be seen, to have someone look upon your scars, roll up her sleeves and say, “See, I have them, too.” It is a grand and terrible thing to have someone look upon your scars and name them “Lovely.” And shyly at first, but with ever-growing boldness, you begin to walk together.
And others come along. Their scars are different. They walk with different limps. They do not see very well. Some cannot hear. And, together, you all hobble. You hold one another up when strength fails. And when you forget, and you will, someone becomes the mirror and says “No, see? This is who you are and who you are is lovely.” Today they are the mirror for you. Tomorrow you are the mirror for another. And step by step, you find yourself home.