Pardon Me

Caught the line of a song the other day and as intended it caught my attention, although I doubt the path it led me down was the lyricist's intended.  It took me back to 1966.

I was with my mom and older brother (our younger one didn't get here 'til '67) at the grocery store.  More specifically, at the bulk candy area of the grocery store staring at the lemon drop bin.  Nothing activates creative problem solving quite like an ignored request.

Armed with the short-sightedness of a fixated preschooler lacking pockets of her own, I convinced my brother to procure a fistful of my obsession.  I'm not sure how many lemon drops fit in a 6 year old's tiny hand; three maybe four. The particulars are fuzzy when five decades separate the event from the memory but not as fuzzy as those lemon drops were after having spent the rest of the shopping trip clutched in a sweaty fist inside his fleece-lined coat pocket.

What's not fuzzy is that emotional cluster exploding in my heart and head when Mom told the cashier that we had a purchase to make and then asked Rick to put what he had in his pocket on the conveyor belt so he could pay for it.  Money?!?  We had no money!  The cashier insisted that it was not a big deal.  Mom insisted otherwise.  I believe the agreed upon restitution was one cent per drop.  Might as well have been 100 dollars per drop.  If you don't have it, you don't have it.  Mom eventually paid the bail after we agreed to work off  our debt but our relief was short-lived.  Before leaving the store, or earshot of the checkout stand, she insisted we consume our ill-gotten-gains.  Sweaty palms, fleece-lined pockets harboring long forgotten treasures, fear-bred snot and relief-bred tears is a memorable concoction.  Desire, anticipation, terror, guilt, redemption, relief, shame...lesson eternally etched.

Had the cashier gotten his way, we would have been pardoned.  Mom had a different idea. What we got was a lesson in guilt, redemption, restitution and forgiveness. But what I (can't speak for my brother) wanted more than anything was to be innocent.  Impossible.  I am forever the mastermind behind the great lemon-drop heist of 1966.  My influence was directly responsible for dragging another human being into the cesspool of criminal activity.  Innocent can never be a part of the definition of who I am.  I am forgiven...but not innocent. Restitution has been made, a price had to be paid because of guilt.

So when I hear a song declaring "I'm forgiven.... I am innocent,"  I say no!  Forgiven, by definition implicates guilt. Innocent means I did nothing wrong.  To be innocent means I have no need of forgiveness.  No need for redemption.  No need for pardon. And if there is anything I am in need of, it is forgiveness, redemption and pardon.  Remembering that keeps me grateful, appreciative and never wanting to be the cause of another's fall from grace.