Regrets. Guilt.

Regrets suck.

Guilt is no place to live.

This is nothing I should know.

It's the Christian thing to not regret and mindlessly repeat the phrase "let God use your mistakes." ...Or something like that. To believe in a grace and trust that there's no reason to feel this guilt. It's all blanketed in a sense of forgiveness.

I know it's true. But it's another thing entirely to act like that, and not just say it.

I do a decent job of not regreting. I screw up. Beat myself up a bit. Sometimes more than I should. But give me a day and I can move on. At least most of the time. Except for this one. No matter how many sunrises I receive, it's all the same. That same regret that promises to haunt me and remind me of that Sunday afternoon back in May. Everytime I see those scars.

Sometimes I wonder. What if no word came out of my mouth that I didn't believe for myself as well? Like all of this about grace and mercy and truth and honesty. I don't think I'd be talking or writing as much. I don't think any word would form at all.

I've been told, I've heard so many times to not regret and not live in such a place as guilt. But when it comes to this, it seems just about as possible as me waking up in the morning to find no scars and my life just like it was not too long ago.

kadi.