A number of years ago a very dear friend of mine introduced me to a little something she called “chocolate of reconciliation.”  Whenever she and her then boyfriend (now husband) had it out, the best way they resolved the issue was with a bar of Ritter Sport Chocolate.  Within a day, one of them would be gifted chocolate and a note on their bed, the kitchen table, at work, in the car, or in a hug at the top of the apartment steps.

As her roommate, I took to this sort of sacrament on a regular basis.  I’m sorry I broke another wine glass.  I’m sorry I tracked mud through the apartment again and stepped on your favorite shirt.  I’m sorry I always steal your computer to use the internet.  I’m sorry I didn’t wash the dishes again.  I’m sorry I’m such a crank all the time; I’m sure it has nothing to do with my dissatisfaction working 12 hours days at the salon down the street and living above an Irish pub in Chicago.  I’m sorry we live above an Irish pub in Chicago–in Wrigleyville.  

When we moved on from our actually sweet and precious time in Wrigleyville, she to be married and I to start substitute teaching in my teensy Minnesota hometown, I took her policy of reconciliation with me.  Through more roommates and more self-indulgent mistakes, this funny, little odd bit of sincere humility became one of the most significant catalysts for my personal growth.  It’s much easier to race to an apology knowing that there is chocolate at the end of the conversation.  It’s alot like the positive reinforcement I use in the classroom.  Reward, reward, reward for good behavior.

Yesterday, however, I totally crossed the line.  I’m growing, but I’m far from perfect.  I completely lost my cool in the 100 degree-plus humidity weather we were having in Minnesota.  I said words that really had no place in a loving friendship.  It wasn’t cursing or yelling or vulgarity, but it was simply driving in the thorn where I knew it would hurt the most.

I walked out of the room at that point and spent the night folding jeans at the mall.  Oh, Lord, what will I do now?  There is no chocolate for this one.  (This is why I often pray for the Lord to shut my mouth.)  I folded, I prayed, I drove around, I went home, I watched The Bachelorette, I wrote a poem about heat, I tried to sleep.  I blogged.

In the morning, the heat hadn’t really subsided and neither had my disappointment in myself.  I tried to keep myself quiet enough to find a solution that meant more than sorry.  I turned off the car radio and it hit me–a pedicure of reconciliation.  By the end of the school day everything was arranged and I sent my dear friend with a wad of cash and good will to the salon.  It was perfect and no other words needed to be said.  (Although I did make her read the poem I wrote about heat to help explain my crazy head.)  All is well again.

When at a loss, reconcile.  Do it quickly, sincerely, and add a light gift.  I think this helps us realize that it’s not really “us” that’s so crazy it’s just that sometimes we loose our heads momentarily.