Let me set the scene for you. It’s Monday morning in November. Christmas break seems years away, and summer seems like a lost dream. I’m running late to class as usual, but this morning is specifically bad; why I decided World Religions at 8:30 am was a good choice is beyond me. I am running across campus in the cold air with one pink sock and another orange. My hair is in the same bun as last night. I pulled an all-nighter completing my 15-page assignment for class. I finally get to my building. Someone is looking at me waiting for me holding the door open. I speed up and walk through and say “sorry.”
It’s a miracle that I arrive to class at 8:29 am. However, the seating options are slim. Every seat is taken because it’s a midterm review day. I have to squeeze all the way past the first two rows. I see a backpack on a seat in the third row obviously belonging to a student wearing a red baseball hat. I look at him, then the seat, he moves his backpack, I sat down and said, “sorry.”
Now class begins and proceeds as usual. Our professor instructs us to hand in our assignments to him personally before we leave class. I am the last person in line, because of the third-row seating option. One by one the students go up to our professor and hand in their assignments. Finally, I’m next. I hand in my assignment and my professor looks concerned. He asked me how many pages my assignment was. I answered, “15 as you said in your email to me when I asked for clarification.” He looks down and chuckles a little then explains that he meant 1-5 pages, not 15. It was a slip-up and I did much more work than required. He laughed a little about it and said “whoopsy,” then put my 15 pages on the top of all the other papers. Right before I left I turned to him and said,
“You mean sorry.”
That was it.
I apologized repeatedly for so many things that I didn’t have to apologize for. I wasn’t about to apologize for something that I had fallen victim to. Sorry means asking for forgiveness. But what am I asking forgiveness for? Should I apologize for someone holding the door for me? Or should I apologize because the red baseball hat’s backpack needs a chair more than me? Maybe I should apologize for my professor making a “whoopsy” mistake, resulting in me writing 15 unnecessary pages.
I am worth more than that. I am worthy of someone holding the door for me, of a chair, and especially of my professor’s acknowledgment.
Maybe as soon as I believe in my worth, then I can realize.
You know what? I’m NOT sorry.