I recently was at a gathering of older adults in which a retired Episcopal priest gave some reflections about aging. The priest, age 81, talked about the benefits of living in the present rather than dwelling too much on past or future, but admitted that he didn’t follow his own advice. He often finds himself thinking about foolish or embarrassing things he said or did. Many happened years or decades ago, and he realizes that the others who were present have in all likelihood long forgotten his mistakes. Nevertheless, he still remonstrates with himself about them.

Many of the others present admitted to the same. I wondered how much such self-criticism I engage in. I am aware that there are a few things that still come to mind  that make me discomforted and self-critical. I am particularly bothered by things I did that I believe were harmful to others. I don’t think much about embarrassing moments, unwise decisions, or stupid mistakes, though. To some degree I regret them, but, whereas that regret used to be thick and uncomfortable, now it’s light, much more easily carried.

When I do look back at my mistakes, there is another set of feelings that have come to predominate, namely relief and gratitude. Some unfortunate things did come about as a result of my bad decisions, but the consequences were much less than they might have been, much less than many others who made similar mistakes have suffered. So I’m relieved that, given how clueless, foolish, or misguided I often was, my life has turned out as well as it has. I’m the receipient of incredible good fortune (or, more to the point theologically, amazing grace), undeserved and much appreciated.

How did I develop that sort of response to memories of my mistakes? I think it began with a gradual process of recognizing the futility of wallowing again and again in “shoulda, woulda, coulda” thinking. Once I stopped such self-condemnation, I was better able to see that bad choices didn’t usually result in disaster, and sometimes had unexpected positive results. Also, my faith in a God who can and regularly does redeem the worst that humanity produces helped me see past my failures to the hope of restoration. My occasional forays into the past are now more likely to produce insight or appreciation rather than distress. It’s a much better relationship to the past than what many people report, and is better than where I once was.