Regrets in a Hopeful World

I am holding my head in my hand. I have been doing that a lot lately. When I was younger, older people would rebuke you for doing that. “What is a child like you thinking about that you need to hold your head in your hands” they would say. I did not understand it then but today it makes perfect sense. What in the world could worry a child to the point that he holds his head in his hands? Has he felt the joy of success in relation to the ignominy that comes with failure? Or has he experienced love in relation to the crushing pain of betrayal? The answer to most adults is probably ‘of course not’. But think again. In their own ‘little’ world, children feel these emotions in the same way that adults do. Consider this. The big problems to a 20 year old would come off as ridiculous to a 50 year old, in the same way that the troubles of a 5 year old would seem laughable to a 15 year old. The point is that the struggle begins from the day we are forced to draw our first breath of this cruel world’s oxygen.  Why then do we put down the struggles of others while we amplify ours? In the end, a spouse who has been the victim of unfaithfulness feels the same degree of betrayal as a child who was promised a new pair of shoes at the beginning of the school year, but never got it. The difference lies in the way each one deals with the betrayal. A child would be quicker to forgive a betrayal and once again offer his trust, without reservations or malice. On the other hand, an adult who has been through years of betrayal, learns the true nature of human beings. He knows better than a child, that people can be infinitely wicked and that his trust must be guarded jealously, because he knows better than a child ever will, that a heart can only take so much pain before it becomes cold and withers. The child has no knowledge of this fact. He sees the world through innocent eyes, clear as crystal, hopeful and infinitely forgiving. However, what I find particularly apt is that no matter how much of we know of the cruelty of the world, nothing can prepare a heart for the fierce sting of a betrayal. It does not matter how many times you go through it, every new experience cuts just as deep as the last. It reminds you in the most brutal fashion that the world, full of hope as it is, remains enslaved to wickedness. Another feeling I find peculiar is that which comes with being on the delivery end of the betrayal. Believe it or not, in some cases, for people who have a conscience anyway, it feels just as bad as being betrayed. It doesn’t come with the knowledge of having your trust thrown to the wind, but it is a feeling of loss. It comes with the knowledge of the fact that you have been a part of a destructive process and that nothing you do can erase that truth. It is the feeling of knowing that even when you have been forgiven, the damage has been done and there is no going back on it. Of course you can move forward and make amends but the memories linger as a constant threat to your future happiness. It is a feeling that is accompanied by regret. You can only rely on time to repair the damage but the scars are everlasting and in that I find the harshest and most tragic reality of life in a world full of hope.