Promises
I'm guessing you're a little bit like me.
OK, God forbid, you should be anything like me in most ways, but I'm sure you're like me in one way.
Promises.
It seems that, throughout my life, people have been making promises to me. And, yes, for my part, I guess I have made promises to others as well.
The strange thing about promises is that they seem, eventually, to be broken.
"I promise to be there by 5:00."
"I promise I won't tell another living soul."
"I promise to love you forever."
Funny, how we promise things at the drop of a hat, but we never really think about what happens when our promises fall apart. Somewhere, someone gets hurt.
I suspect that we have all been the victims of broken promises. Maybe some of those didn't really matter much, but at least a few must have cut you to the quick, and left you with that feeling of absolute desertion, when the floor slips out from beneath you like a trap door, and you're plummeted into the darkness below.
It's possible that we make promises too casually, that we just flip them out there like small change to a beggar, just to appease someone who seems to need reassurance about one thing or another.
Now, I'm not suggesting that we stop making promises, but if we are to make one, then I think it's important to stand by your words.
Most of us would agree with that old saying, "Don't make promises you can't keep ..." and yet, we do it all the time. We make promises that we don't keep.
Oh sure, some of you will be thinking, "Well, at the time I made such-and-such promise, I had every intention of keeping it."
No you didn't. You said it because it sounded nice or you wanted someone else to think you were better than anyone else that person had ever encountered before you. The truth is that the moment you say, "I promise," is also the moment you create the worst of expectations — the kind you don't or somehow can't fulfill ...
Maybe the best promise would be, "I promise never to promise you anything."
On second thought, I'm sure we would probably break that one as well.
I'm guessing you're a little bit like me.
OK, God forbid, you should be anything like me in most ways, but I'm sure you're like me in one way.
Promises.
It seems that, throughout my life, people have been making promises to me. And, yes, for my part, I guess I have made promises to others as well.
The strange thing about promises is that they seem, eventually, to be broken.
"I promise to be there by 5:00."
"I promise I won't tell another living soul."
"I promise to love you forever."
Funny, how we promise things at the drop of a hat, but we never really think about what happens when our promises fall apart. Somewhere, someone gets hurt.
I suspect that we have all been the victims of broken promises. Maybe some of those didn't really matter much, but at least a few must have cut you to the quick, and left you with that feeling of absolute desertion, when the floor slips out from beneath you like a trap door, and you're plummeted into the darkness below.
It's possible that we make promises too casually, that we just flip them out there like small change to a beggar, just to appease someone who seems to need reassurance about one thing or another.
Now, I'm not suggesting that we stop making promises, but if we are to make one, then I think it's important to stand by your words.
Most of us would agree with that old saying, "Don't make promises you can't keep ..." and yet, we do it all the time. We make promises that we don't keep.
Oh sure, some of you will be thinking, "Well, at the time I made such-and-such promise, I had every intention of keeping it."
No you didn't. You said it because it sounded nice or you wanted someone else to think you were better than anyone else that person had ever encountered before you. The truth is that the moment you say, "I promise," is also the moment you create the worst of expectations — the kind you don't or somehow can't fulfill ...
Maybe the best promise would be, "I promise never to promise you anything."
On second thought, I'm sure we would probably break that one as well.
