Second Chances

You don’t usually get a second chance in life.

 

Screw up and you’re done.

 

Don’t believe it? Go out tomorrow and rob a bank. And maybe shoot up the town during your getaway.

 

See if people ever look you the same way again.

 

Redemption is rare. And hard.

 

But when it happens, and it does every now and then, it makes all of us better.

 

The ones who need redemption. And the ones who give it.

 

I watched the movie The Color Purple this weekend. The old version with Oprah and Whoopi. Not the new one.

 

The entire movie is just incredible but there is one scene that is absolutely heart wrenching. Every time I watch it, I cry.

 

I can’t help it.

 

It makes me feel like there is hope. No matter what you’ve done. No matter how horrible.

 

It’s the scene near the end of the movie. If you’ve seen it before, you know exactly what scene I’m taking about.

 

It’s when Shug is singing at the little juke joint across the river and she hears the gospel music coming from her Daddy’s church across the field.

 

Suddenly, she starts walking toward the church. You don’t know what’s coming but when she walks down the aisle of that little church and into her father’s arms, it turns your heart to butter.

 

It doesn’t matter if you’re religious or not. It’s the moment she hugs her estranged father and he hugs her back that I lose it.

 

I want to be a man like that who forgives, no matter what.

 

It is one of the most incredible scenes of redemption ever filmed. And it got me to thinking about a case of redemption I have seen in person.

 

I told you that this world is hard and redemption rarely comes around anymore.

 

But in this case, it did.

 

And it gives me hope. For myself. For others. For everyone.

 

I don’t know when I met my friend, Eric. It was several years ago. He worked for one of my clients and was in the Rotary Club with me.

 

One thing that struck me about Eric was how he always seemed to be in a good mood. And that always helped me be in a better mood.

 

Eric was a former naval officer. He had a beautiful wife and two beautiful children.

 

To most people, it seemed he had the perfect life. One that most people would certainly envy.

 

But beneath that facade of happiness and success, Eric had a secret. A very dark secret.

 

He was an addict.

 

You would never know it to talk with him. He didn’t fit the persona of what most of us think an addict should look and act like.

 

You know. The poor guy sitting in a dark room smoking some brain-melting drug. Tattered clothes. Unshaven. Sores on his face.

 

But he was an addict nonetheless less. A functioning one.

 

Well, until he wasn’t.

 

It happened fast. I would see him at Rotary. Or at the office. Happy as ever.

 

And then he just disappeared.

 

He got fired from his job. And dropped off the earth.

 

I thought maybe he had moved to take a better job. Or had some family emergency which required him to move away while he helped an elderly loved one struggle through the last few weeks of their life.

 

But that isn’t what happened.

 

Eric had hit rock bottom. Most addicts do. Sooner or later.

 

At this point, most addicts have to make a choice. Continue to grovel in the mud. Or agree to treatment.

 

Eric chose the later and left town.

 

After a while, I forgot about him. I’m sure most folks did. Good riddance, right?

 

A year or so later and he came home. No longer consumed by drugs. Set free.

B

ut his reputation had not been scrubbed clean, like his body.

 

You see, people say they forget and forgive. But they never really do.

 

His friends had abandoned him. Many in his family had turned their backs on him.

 

He was clean. But he wasn’t.

 

You can’t just wash your reputation like you do your underwear. When it’s sullied, it usually stays that way.

 

He had to work hard to get people to trust him again. Some people never did.

 

Never would.

 

It was just punishment for what he had done. Who he had been.

 

It was at this point that most addicts revert back to old habits.

I

t’s like they have a rope tied around one ankle.

 

With every step forward, you’re pulled two steps back.

 

Most addicts, no matter how determined, can’t fight that pull backwards.

Eric did.

 

And slowly, people began to trust him again. Soured relationships were restored.

 

He became himself. Again.

 

This past Friday night, my lovely wife and I went over to Whigham to have dinner at Eric’s new restaurant. It’s not a fancy place. There’s no linen napkins or three forks lined up beside your china plate.

 

But Eric is an amazing cook and people come from everywhere to eat there.

 

Eric finally had what he had wanted all along. A place to call his own. And an opportunity to prove to everyone that he was a new man.

 

He spent the night, when he wasn’t tending the smoker or carrying plates of smoky brisket and turkey to the tables, shaking hands and hugging necks.

 

I’m sure there were people there who had once written him off as just another worthless addict. But instead of scowls, he was treated with love.

 

When we finished our dinner, my wife went to the front to pay. And I went to tell Eric how much we enjoyed it.

 

Instead of shaking his hand, I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him close. Then I whispered something in his ear that I am sure he thought when he was at the bottom, he would never hear again.

 

“I’m proud of you, Eric.”

 

He didn’t say anything but just smiled. He knew what I meant.

 

At the end of The Color Purple, there is this scene where Celie is reunited with her family. It’s another tear jerker.

 

Then the camera briefly turns back to Shug.

 

She’s crying. And beaming. And you know what she’s thinking. You can see it on her face.

 

What had seemed impossible had come true. Redemption.

 

Its rare. It’s hard.

 

But for anyone who knows Eric, you now know that he has found something rarely ever given in this life.

 

A second chance.