I see it in their trembling lips and guilt-laden fingers. The gratitude, the relief, the surprise that I forgive and think no less of them.
So strange, how extraordinary my acceptance seems to them. It’s as if their gratitude and relief and surprise have found new companions in wonder and curiosity. I become not only the recipient of confession, but also of evaluation.
Do I have that high of a tolerance level? Do people come to me out of trust or out of wanting acceptance? Am I emphatic or loose? Open-minded or immoral?
Is it wrong to try to understand everyone? I don’t always agree, I don’t always approve. I just don’t judge, that’s all.