Broken Trust, And Love's Responsibility

So it's Valentine's right? And Valentine's is about love, right?
In the process of cleaning/straightening the house this afternoon, I set about changing the 'art' on our chalkboard in the kitchen/dining area (it still said "Happy New Year!") to something appropriate for the week before Valentine's Day. I'm not great with chalkboard art, so decided on something simple: "Love one another" from John 13:34 and 35.

I got the design started, but inspiration was lagging and it was time to go out and feed the animals anyway, so I took a break to go do that.

Now, bear with me while I try to get to where I'm going with this.

I am not naturally a trusting person. I don't trust people easily. I love them, very much. But I don't trust them, very much. And add to that the facts that some people in my life who are naturally supposed to be able to be trusted have broken my trust, and that a couple of times I've thought I'd found someone who really was trust-worthy, but who ended up 'letting me down' or proving themselves non-trustworthy...
Yeah, I don't trust easily.

So, I went out to feed the animals. It is cold and rainy - not a very pleasant evening, weather-wise - and I have a pestering headache. All-in-all, I was feeling a little 'down' anyway. And then, as I walked the path to our chicken coop, suddenly I was (ironically) slapped in the face by yet another broken promise.
And though in the broad scheme of life and the stretching years that make it up, this thing is rather insignificant, yet I was almost overcome by re-broken trust, betrayal, and an overwhelming sense of loss.

I stumbled on in a daze of disbelief, automatically feeding the chickens, gathering eggs, replacing the feed bucket, shutting up the shed, and plodding back to the house through the cold drizzle, all the while mentally (and actually audibly as well - Dad, Mom, and Trissy were gone for a little while and I was alone) berrating the promise-maker/promise-breaker. Not vengefully, yet not altogether forgiving, either. I contemplated what their reaction might be if they were suddenly bereft of years of labor - if suddenly something was blown out in a moment that had taken over a decade to accomplish - especially if it was destroyed by one who had promised to protect it.

The senses of loss and betrayal were so overwhelming that I actually gave in to the sobs that ached to be released. I was by myself, there was no one to hear, so I didn't have to put on a 'brave face' and pretend I'm not as weak as I am; though I'm telling all of you this, so I guess a brave face isn't so important after all. I don't know. All I know is that I was completely dumbfounded and broken - betrayed (again) by someone who should have been trustworthy.
And they wonder why I don't trust them.

Angry and crying (I'm sure my picture must have looked very childish and undignified), I cleaned my shoes, hung up my jacket in the mudroom, and trudged into the house through the back door. There on the wall, half-finished, was my chalkboard art:

"Love one another."

Immediately, another verse blew gently across the troubled frown in my mind:

'Love covers a multitude of sins.' (1 Peter 4:8)

I burst into fresh tears at the gentle correction of the Lord.
Yes, I had been wronged. Yes, someone had sinned against me. Yes, I must (and do) love them anyway. And yes, because of Love, my responsibility is to cover/hide/forgive and - as much as is in my human power - dismiss from my memory the unkindness they had shown, the promise they had broken, the trust they had once again betrayed.

There may never be a human I will or can fully trust, but I am becoming more and more okay with that. Because the more un-trustworthy mankind proves itself to me, the stronger and more trustworthy I find my Christ!