It happened again. Those two simple words “I’m sorry” did their miracle. Two words so simple but so hard to say. An immediate change, from night to day, from misconnection to connection, from resentment to love, after just two simple words. It amazes me every time it works, as if it’s a totally new concept. Why shouldn’t it work? How can two such simple words do such a powerful healing?

It breaks down the barrier of self. It crumbles the wall, keeping others outside, far away from me. After something happens or someone does something that hurts me, I put my guard up and take my defensive stance against the enemy. I’m ready to defend myself from any further hurt. My shields are up to protect me but they also keep others out. I become disconnected. Even if I don’t misconnect physically, even if I force myself to take the actions of love and try to act as if I still love, I’m mentally disconnected — I’ve cut the cord of love and I can’t survive without it. What happens then?

I have to connect. I have to have love, someone to reach out to. I am not whole by myself. I must have some connection. Hence, the misconnection comes to play. It rings my doorbell, promising that the unreal will work this time. Tempting me with fantasy for relief from my pain. Lies, all lies. I’m in trouble if I don’t get back on track with the real thing. The unreal is just waiting for me to take one step toward it. Lust comes creeping right back in. I start looking with my eyes for a possible lust connection. Someone or something to satisfy this awful emptiness inside. What must I do?

I must reconnect and fast. How? By two simple words, “I’m sorry.” They work every time. They force me to open myself up again to those who love me. By lowering my guard, I open myself up to receive love again. It doesn’t matter who was really right. It doesn’t matter what it was about. If it involved me, I played a part in it. The chances are, with my distorted thinking, I’ve been a key player. I don’t have the right to resent anyone, no matter what they have done to me. If I do, I’m the one who hurts. I’m the one who pays the price of lust. And unsurrendered lust will eventually cause me to act out. One of the actions of love I must take is to make amends. It’s an action of love of myself so that I don’t pay the penalty of resentment. Then the miracle occurs, it breaks down the wall and reconnects me to God and then to whoever else is involved.

Oh yes, if I’m disconnected from another human being, I’m disconnected from God. It’s a three-way link. Me, God and others. A three-way cord when tied together is stronger and not easily broken. It keeps me sober. The miracle again.