Tag Archives: forgiving

Cool

Cool: (adj) moderately cold; neither warm nor cold

You can tell you’re a hot-head because you sweat the small stuff. But the question remains, what must be done to make sure cooler heads prevail?

Here’s a clue: you can’t just have a cool head. Your whole persona has to be cool.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

People who are stringent, unforgiving or dogmatic will not suddenly wake up one morning and say, “You know, I need to be more forgiving.”

A cool head begins with cool feet—feet that aren’t afraid to walk the path of life, knowing that some detours and adjustment are inevitable.

It’s a good idea to have cool knees—that means when you find yourself knocked down to them, rather than melting in a pool of self-pity, you take a moment to pray before you rise again.

Certainly, cool hands are required for everyone, not just Luke—a sense that you will linger and care about people with your touch, instead of yank them, push them or strike them.

Cool eyes—looking for great possibility instead of darkness.

Cool ears—hearing the better parts of the conversation and discarding the ignorance.

Cool is when you know that being hot burns things up and being cold freezes progress. Yet, arriving lukewarm makes everybody want to vomit.

Cool is that temperature where human beings actually gain the capacity to tolerate one another.


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Berate

Berate (v): to scold or criticize someone angrily.

Dictionary B

My wife’s parents didn’t like me.

They had good reason.

I lied, cheated, misinformed and did a bunch of crap which forced them into the role of being critical defenders of their daughter.

Yet I had the excuse of being intoxicated by adolescence. They were supposed to be mature and understand my weakness, but instead, berated me, telling me I would never be anything of quality.

Being very young, I felt it was my duty to verbally attack them also, leaving a chasm of misunderstanding, which I believed would be taken care of over time. I thought that once their daughter and I were married and had children, matters would miraculously transpire to turn us into a family, laughingly remembering former days of conflict.

It never happened.

Matter of fact, I can recite several events in my life when I was berated–or was the berator of others myself–where those relationships have never healed, but have instead settled into an uncomfortable silence of unacceptability.

We are civil.

I suppose there are even moments of kindness.

But the grudge that is still carried leaves both parties breathless, if not hopeless.

So what I have learned with each passing birthday is that the less I confront those around me, the greater the possibility of maintaining the warmth of fellowship.

I suppose we should be a race that is forgiving, gentle and free of resentment.

We are not.

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