Perhaps reneging on the promise of a promise is harder for me to forgive than a broken promise itself. Broken promises are inevitable, so my grace abounds. But when the courage to commit never materializes, just the hint of a possibility . . . well, I can do a mental 50 yard dash with that one and be so far down the resolution track that the sharp pain of racing alone stabs and stabs hard.
This realization was birthed in a week filled with potential. I checked out a website for ethics thinking I had a companion for my social justice journey. My visit was diasterous. Of the 18 colunmists listed as contributors -- one, and only one, is a woman. And in the three lines describing her she's mentioned as having been a one-time director of a board and a wife and mother. None of the other writers were treated to the description of being husbands and fathers.
My next disappointment came after I had actually made myself vulnerable -- something I rarely do. Known for my independence, I thought it might be necessary to point out to a friend that I needed something -- a shoulder, a hug, a prayer -- I wasn't being too picky. The offer came quickly. "Let's get together for a drink. Tonight . . . if all goes well with the paperwork I'm doing while in town."
The call never came. I took care of myself once again . . . first hair therapy, then a workout and finally with the satisfaction of knowing that I'm still ok.
Still . . . promises matter . . . at least mine do.