All apologies
By Michelle Martin
I’m sorry.
Those can be hard words to say, especially for a child who feels fully justified in his or her actions.
But those are exactly the words that need to be said, when the act of forming them in your mouth makes you stop and think about what you did.
You knocked down his tower because he wouldn’t move it out of your way? Say you’re sorry.
You snatched the toy because she wouldn’t give you a turn when you wanted it? Say you’re sorry.
“Sorry” is a biggie for most parents, right behind please and thank you in the civilization sweepstakes. It’s a little word that can acknowledge fault or express sympathy, that shows another person that you understand—at least a little—how he feels, and want to make it better.
“Sorry” doesn’t work when it’s twisted with sarcasm, or tossed off over your shoulder as you move on to something else, or when it becomes, “Sorry, but …” it was someone else’s fault anyway
“Sorry” works best with an offer to make amends, or at least make up, and when it’s followed by a real attempt to keep whatever the problem was from happening again.
Maybe because it puts the person who says it in the position of being wrong, it’s something parents maybe don’t say enough to their kids.
I said it to Frankie the other day, after I scolded him for dripping orange juice all over his clean shirt—all over his clean basketball shirt, that he had to wear to basketball picture day in two hours.
Sure, he knew he should keep his shirt clean, and sure, he’s been told over and over not to let juice drip down his chin—that’s what napkins are for.
But he’s not the one who let him put on the shirt hours ahead of time, or the one who cut up the orange for him to eat. Talk about setting him up for trouble—and then giving it to him. I’m sorry.
When I squatted down in front of him, so we could talk face-to-face, and apologized, he was gracious. “It’s OK, Mom,” he said. “Will my shirt be clean by the time we have to go?”
Neither of my kids is always so understanding, especially not with each other. More than once, fights have taken on new life when one apologizes and the other refuses to accept, making the apologizer feel just as aggrieved as the (previously) injured party.
Those times, I tell them it’s OK. They made a mistake and apologized. Now all they can do is try not to repeat it.
The one receiving the apology isn’t under any obligation to forgive, but time (often a matter of minutes) is all it usually takes to turn them around.
Caroline this year will make her first reconciliation. In a way, that’s what all the “I’m sorrys” we’ve prompted her to say over the last seven years have been preparing her for.
What used to be called a first confession is still that: a confession of guilt, of having done something wrong.
But unlike brothers and sisters, God doesn’t reject sincere apologies. He doesn’t have bruised feelings (or a bruised ego) to nurse. He’s just waiting for each of us to say “I’m sorry.” Then God can help us make it all right.
Michelle Martin is a Catholic New World staff writer.
