- Jun 27, 2003
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Forgiveness
Part 2
There were many opportunities to fill in the chart in the years that followed. She once told the kids at school that Brent talked in his sleep and called out Rhonda Hill's name, even though it wasn't true. The teasing caused Brent days and days of misery.
When she realized how cruel she had been, Lisa apologized sincerely.
That night she marked box number 96. Forgiveness number 211 came in the tenth grade when Lisa failed to bring home his English book. Brent had stayed home sick that day and had asked her to bring it so he could study for a quiz.
She forgot and he got a C. Number 393 was for lost keys...418 for the extra bleach she put in the washer, which ruined his favorite polo shirt...449, the dent she had put in his car when she had borrowed it.
There was a small ceremony when Lisa checked number 490. She used a gold pen for the check mark, had Brent sign the chart, and then placed it in her memory box." I guess that's the end," Lisa said. "No more screw-ups from me anymore!"
Brent just laughed. "Yeah, right." Number 491 was just another one of Lisa's careless mistakes, but its hurt lasted a lifetime.
Brent had become all that his music teachers said he would. Few could play the oboe better than he. In his fourth year at the best music school in the United States, he received the opportunity of a lifetime--a chance to try out for New York City's great orchestra.
The tryout would be held sometime during the following two weeks.
It would be the fulfillment of his young dreams. But he never got the chance. Brent had been out when the call about the tryout came to the house. Lisa was the only one home and on her way out the door, eager to get to work on time. "Two-thirty on the tenth," the secretary said on the phone. Lisa did not have a pen, but she told herself that she could remember it." Got it. Thanks."
I can remember that, she thought. But she did not. It was a week later around the dinner table that Lisa realized her mistake.
"So, Brent," his mom asked him, "When do you try out?"
"Don't know yet. They're supposed to call." Lisa froze in her seat. "Oh, no!" she blurted out loud. "What's today's date? Quick!" "It's the twelfth," her dad answered. "Why?" A terrible pain ripped through Lisa's heart. She buried her face in her hands, crying. "Lisa, what's the matter?" her mother asked.
Through sobs Lisa explained what had happened. "It was two days ago...the tryout...two-thirty...the call came...last week." Brent sat back in his chair, not believing Lisa.
"Is this one of your jokes, sis?" he asked, though he could tell her misery was real. She shook her head, still unable to look at him.
"Then I really missed it?" She nodded.
Brent ran out of the kitchen without a word. He did not come out of his room the rest of the evening. Lisa tried once to knock on the door, but she could not face him. She went to her room where she cried bitterly. Suddenly she knew that she had to do.
She had ruined Brent's life. He could never forgive her for that. She had failed her family, and there was nothing to do but to leave home. Lisa packed her pickup truck in the middle of the night and left a note behind, telling her folks she'd be all right.
She began writing a note to Brent, but her words sounded empty to her. Nothing I say could make a difference anyway, she thought.
Two days later she got a job as a waitress in Boston. She found an apartment not too far from the restaurant. Her parents tried many times to reach her, but Lisa ignored their letters. "It's too late," she wrote them once. "I've ruined Brent's life, and I'm not coming back." Lisa did not think she would ever see home again.
But one day in the restaurant where she worked she saw a face she knew. "Lisa!" said Mrs. Nelson, looking up from her plate.
"What a surprise."
The woman was a friend of Lisa's family from back home. "I was so sorry to hear about your brother," Mrs. Nelson said softly. "Such a terrible accident. But we can be thankful that he died quickly. He didn't suffer." Lisa stared at the woman in shock.
"Wh-hat," she finally stammered. It couldn't be! Her brother? Dead? The woman quickly saw that Lisa did not know about the accident. She told the girl the sad story of the speeding car, the rush to the hospital, the doctors working over Brent. But all they could do was not enough to save him. Lisa returned home that afternoon.
********
Now she found herself in her room thinking about her brother as she held the small box that held some of her memories of him.
Sadly, she opened the box and peered inside. It was as she remembered, except for one item--Brent's chart. It was not there.
In its place, at the bottom of the box, was an envelope. Her hands shook as she tore it open and removed a letter.
The first page read:
Dear Lisa,
It was you who kept count, not me. But if you're stubborn enough to keep count, use the new chart I've made for you.
Love, Brent
Lisa turned to the second page where she found a chart just like the one she had made as a child, but on this one the lines were drawn in perfect precision. And unlike the chart she had kept, there was but one check mark in the upper left- hand corner.
Written in red felt tip pen over the entire page were the words:
"NUMBER 491. Forgiven, FOREVER."
forgive others...forgive yourself...
Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find;
knock and it will be opened to you. For everyone who asks
receives; he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks, the
door will be opened.
Author Unknown
Submitted by Richard
Part 2
There were many opportunities to fill in the chart in the years that followed. She once told the kids at school that Brent talked in his sleep and called out Rhonda Hill's name, even though it wasn't true. The teasing caused Brent days and days of misery.
When she realized how cruel she had been, Lisa apologized sincerely.
That night she marked box number 96. Forgiveness number 211 came in the tenth grade when Lisa failed to bring home his English book. Brent had stayed home sick that day and had asked her to bring it so he could study for a quiz.
She forgot and he got a C. Number 393 was for lost keys...418 for the extra bleach she put in the washer, which ruined his favorite polo shirt...449, the dent she had put in his car when she had borrowed it.
There was a small ceremony when Lisa checked number 490. She used a gold pen for the check mark, had Brent sign the chart, and then placed it in her memory box." I guess that's the end," Lisa said. "No more screw-ups from me anymore!"
Brent just laughed. "Yeah, right." Number 491 was just another one of Lisa's careless mistakes, but its hurt lasted a lifetime.
Brent had become all that his music teachers said he would. Few could play the oboe better than he. In his fourth year at the best music school in the United States, he received the opportunity of a lifetime--a chance to try out for New York City's great orchestra.
The tryout would be held sometime during the following two weeks.
It would be the fulfillment of his young dreams. But he never got the chance. Brent had been out when the call about the tryout came to the house. Lisa was the only one home and on her way out the door, eager to get to work on time. "Two-thirty on the tenth," the secretary said on the phone. Lisa did not have a pen, but she told herself that she could remember it." Got it. Thanks."
I can remember that, she thought. But she did not. It was a week later around the dinner table that Lisa realized her mistake.
"So, Brent," his mom asked him, "When do you try out?"
"Don't know yet. They're supposed to call." Lisa froze in her seat. "Oh, no!" she blurted out loud. "What's today's date? Quick!" "It's the twelfth," her dad answered. "Why?" A terrible pain ripped through Lisa's heart. She buried her face in her hands, crying. "Lisa, what's the matter?" her mother asked.
Through sobs Lisa explained what had happened. "It was two days ago...the tryout...two-thirty...the call came...last week." Brent sat back in his chair, not believing Lisa.
"Is this one of your jokes, sis?" he asked, though he could tell her misery was real. She shook her head, still unable to look at him.
"Then I really missed it?" She nodded.
Brent ran out of the kitchen without a word. He did not come out of his room the rest of the evening. Lisa tried once to knock on the door, but she could not face him. She went to her room where she cried bitterly. Suddenly she knew that she had to do.
She had ruined Brent's life. He could never forgive her for that. She had failed her family, and there was nothing to do but to leave home. Lisa packed her pickup truck in the middle of the night and left a note behind, telling her folks she'd be all right.
She began writing a note to Brent, but her words sounded empty to her. Nothing I say could make a difference anyway, she thought.
Two days later she got a job as a waitress in Boston. She found an apartment not too far from the restaurant. Her parents tried many times to reach her, but Lisa ignored their letters. "It's too late," she wrote them once. "I've ruined Brent's life, and I'm not coming back." Lisa did not think she would ever see home again.
But one day in the restaurant where she worked she saw a face she knew. "Lisa!" said Mrs. Nelson, looking up from her plate.
"What a surprise."
The woman was a friend of Lisa's family from back home. "I was so sorry to hear about your brother," Mrs. Nelson said softly. "Such a terrible accident. But we can be thankful that he died quickly. He didn't suffer." Lisa stared at the woman in shock.
"Wh-hat," she finally stammered. It couldn't be! Her brother? Dead? The woman quickly saw that Lisa did not know about the accident. She told the girl the sad story of the speeding car, the rush to the hospital, the doctors working over Brent. But all they could do was not enough to save him. Lisa returned home that afternoon.
********
Now she found herself in her room thinking about her brother as she held the small box that held some of her memories of him.
Sadly, she opened the box and peered inside. It was as she remembered, except for one item--Brent's chart. It was not there.
In its place, at the bottom of the box, was an envelope. Her hands shook as she tore it open and removed a letter.
The first page read:
Dear Lisa,
It was you who kept count, not me. But if you're stubborn enough to keep count, use the new chart I've made for you.
Love, Brent
Lisa turned to the second page where she found a chart just like the one she had made as a child, but on this one the lines were drawn in perfect precision. And unlike the chart she had kept, there was but one check mark in the upper left- hand corner.
Written in red felt tip pen over the entire page were the words:
"NUMBER 491. Forgiven, FOREVER."
forgive others...forgive yourself...
Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find;
knock and it will be opened to you. For everyone who asks
receives; he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks, the
door will be opened.
Author Unknown
Submitted by Richard
... that was powerful.
