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The Door I Haven’t Closed

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The sermon last Sunday was from Matthew 18:21-35 “Peter approached Jesus and asked him, “Lord, if my brother sins against me, how often must I forgive? As many as seven times?” Jesus answered, “I say to you, not seven times but seventy-seven times….” 

A few things have happened in my life over the past two years that have shaken me to my core and taught me things along the way. I thought forgiveness was easy. After all, I have been preaching for years about the importance of forgiving, forgetting, and moving on. Let it go. It was imperative not to hold grudges. I was mistaken, however.

I have learned that forgetting can happen with the click of a button, but forgiveness has its own dance, a mystique of sorts that permeates your soul and tries to yank it out of your existence without permission. It carries its own weight that I haven’t yet learned how to fully surrender to it.

That knife cut too deep. It perforated my torax and went straight down to my soul leaving a wound that has yet to heal, no matter how many bandages and patches I have applied. I tried it all, don’t take me wrong. I have tried but the doors have stayed shut.

I have always been the one to subscribe to forgiveness, running around with the banner that nothing could ever be deep enough for someone not to be able to let it go as if there were term limits to how long the train ought to last. Yet here I am, learning that forgiveness is not always as simple as I once believed. Nope, doodoo, no. It depends on the size and the type of injury. Mine had too many layers which made difficult to just set aside my feelings and embark in a new direction. I have been carefully slicing it piece by piece, layer by layer, molding and sculpting it as I go.

I will get there eventually, I know I will but right now, let me drive. I am still in the highway as I find myself with a ton of unanswered questions and unresolved cobwebs —things I have not yet been able to close the door on.

The magic wand I once thought existed isn’t there. I used to believe that one day I would wake up and the pain would simply be gone, vanished —that forgiveness would arrive like the scent of Gucci perfume, some beautiful moment of clarity, and everything that happened would suddenly stop hurting. But it doesn’t work that way, sometimes, does it?! It still hurts.

Forgiveness does not mean I suddenly stop remembering. Some wounds leave scars, and some memories will always carry a little sadness but a scar is not an open wound. It is proof that something hurt me deeply, and that somehow, I survived it.

Forgiveness does not erase what happened. It does not make the pain less real, nor does it excuse the choices that caused it. It simply means, I am choosing not to let the hurt have the final say in my life. I am slowly realizing that my healing cannot depend on someone else’s remorse. It will never happen. The person is gone. I cannot keep waiting for others to acknowledge my pain before I allow myself to move forward.

So, I am giving myself permission to release what I cannot change.

I am releasing the conversations I will never get to have, the explanations I may never receive, and the version of the past I desperately wished could have been different.

I am releasing the need to make someone understand how deeply they hurt me.

And most importantly, I am learning to release the guilt I carried for loving, trusting, hoping, and believing. Those things were never weaknesses. They were simply evidence that my heart was genuine.

The Deer That Turned Our Dorm Into a Refrigerator

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Reading about strange winter mishaps always reminds me of my college days in Virginia and one unforgettable incident that became legendary among the students living in my dorm.

It happened in the middle of winter, shortly after a major blizzard had buried the campus under several feet of snow. Roads were barely passable, classes had been disrupted, and everyone was hunkered down indoors waiting for conditions to improve. The world outside was silent and white.

Then a deer wandered onto campus.

For reasons only the deer could understand, it approached the large glass wall at the entrance of our dormitory. Perhaps it caught a glimpse of its own reflection and mistook it for another deer. Maybe it felt challenged or simply became confused. Whatever the reason, the animal suddenly charged.

The result was spectacular.

The deer slammed directly into the glass wall, shattering it into countless pieces. In an instant, the entire front of the dorm lobby was exposed to the freezing winter air. Fortunately, no one was seriously injured, but the entrance looked as though a small explosion had gone off.

Under normal circumstances, maintenance crews would have arrived quickly to board up the opening and replace the damaged glass. But these were not normal circumstances. We had just experienced a blizzard, and travel conditions were so poor that getting repair crews to the building was nearly impossible.

For days, the broken wall remained.

As temperatures plunged outside, icy air poured into the lobby around the clock. Walking through the entrance felt less like entering a residence hall and more like stepping into a walk-in freezer. Students bundled up in coats and hats just to cross the lobby, and the heating system struggled to keep up with the relentless cold.

The situation became one of those stories that everyone on campus seemed to know. Whenever someone complained about the weather, someone else would inevitably mention the deer that had mistaken its reflection for a rival and turned an entire dormitory into a refrigerator.

Years later, I have forgotten many ordinary details of college life, but I still remember that deer, the shattered glass, and the arctic blast that greeted us every time we walked through the front doors. It remains one of the strangest and funniest examples of how a single unexpected moment can create a story that people talk about for years.

The Magic You Carry!

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Dear Child,

Today is your day.

Not because of the gifts you may receive or the celebrations around you, but because the world is brighter simply because you are in it.

I hope you never stop asking questions, never stop imagining impossible things, and never stop believing that kindness matters. The way you see the world—with wonder, honesty, and curiosity—is something many adults spend their lives trying to rediscover.

There will be days when you feel brave, and days when you feel afraid. Days when you succeed, and days when you stumble. Through all of them, remember this: your worth is not measured by your grades, your talents, your appearance, or what others think of you. You are valuable because you are you.

Keep your heart open. Laugh loudly. Dream boldly. Be gentle with others and with yourself. The world needs your creativity, your compassion, your unique voice, and the beautiful things only you can bring.

May you grow up surrounded by love, protected by kindness, and encouraged to become exactly who you are meant to be.

And whenever life feels uncertain, remember that there are people who believe in you, cheer for you, and hope for your happiness—even before they know your name.

Happy Children’s Day.

With love and hope,

Kairo! 🌍❤️👧👦✨