Regrets. They are so painful. Oh, the things I wish I could go back and do differently. They sometimes haunt me in the middle of the night, when sleep won’t come. I lay there in the dark recalling the harsh tones, when I wasn’t getting the respect I thought I deserved. The anger, when things weren’t going my way. Losing my temper, for what now seems utterly ridiculous reasons. The countless times I didn’t believe the best but rather jumped to ungodly judgement. All of the times I was crossing something else off of my to-do list, when I should have been playing Legos.

Regrets, trying to eat the happiness out of my memories. Regrets, making this even more painful, if that’s even possible. Regrets, working up despair, because there are no do-overs. No, I must live with them. My regrets are a part of my life now. But they will not control me. I will not let them define who I am. And I will not look at them apart from the cross where I am forgiven. Dwelling on the past when you can’t go back and fix it, only poisons the future. Therefore, I will only look at you, regret, when standing in the shadow of the cross of Christ.

And regret, you do not have the last word. You will not eat me up. I, in fact, will use you.  Regret, I will use you to prod me into doing better with those still living. Regret, I will use you to remind me to grasp every moment and see the beauty in the small, seemingly insignificant things. Regret, you are teaching me to treasure every moment, and endure trials with patients and a soft, trusting heart. Regret, you are teaching me to value what God values most and put the eternal endeavors first on my to-do list. And best of all, regret, you have intensified my hope for that Great Day coming, when we can all throw ourselves into each other’s arms and rejoice, because there will be no more regrets!