Today I am trying to be gentle with ME. I’ve been beating myself up again.  Beating myself up with black and white thinking.  Here’s how it works:  I catch myself in error.  At first I deny my mistake on the grounds that I am conscientious.  I strive to do what is right –always, so, since I was consciously trying to do the right thing, how could I have made a mistake?  Still, the niggling thought that I might have been wrong persists.  Then, the light goes on.  A friend, an event, a thought, points out to me that I have made a grievous error.  I say grievous because, regardless of the minisculetude or magnitude of the mistake, it will cause grief in my soul.  I admit I was wrong.  If necessary I make amends.  I do all I can do to correct it.  I am unable to leave it behind.  I am now a failure.  I begin to think and rethink my entire life.  Maybe I have always been wrong.

It is a great thing to know when you are wrong and admit it.  It is mental and emotional cancer to think that because you were wrong once, you can never be trusted. You were wrong always and forever.  A moment on that black and white path will undo my confidence, my self-worth, my self-esteem.  In a heartbeat, I have dropped into never ending despair. What will rescue me from my own black and white thinking?  Oh for the wisdom to know and freely admit when I am wrong; the grace and confidence to move forward; the discernment to know when I am right; so to stand like a rock amid the tumult of naysayers. Oh for the love to be gentle with myself and therefore gentle with others; to have the grace to think and act in such a way that understands that they, too, may be wrong sometimes without me rejecting them as full blown tyrants.