I used to work in a nursing home and boy, the stories I could tell you. I could tell you stories to shock you, ruin you, and depress you for days. But this isn't one of them.

There was a woman, who was admittedly ill-tempered, and no caretaker particularly liked to assist. She was younger, in her sixties, but she had a muscular condition that eroded her spine and muscles. She was not exactly bedridden–-her body was twisted in a way that she could only sit in a recliner. We'll call her Laura.

I was cleaning Laura's room and found a photo of her younger self. She was beyond beautiful. When the phrase "she could have been a model" is usually applied, it is a compliment. In this case, it was truth. She was tall, lean and had naturally red hair. Her eyes glowed, her smile beautiful and her lips were full and naturally cherry. This was a stark contrast to the woman of today; her hair dyed brown, her body short and uneven, and her teeth, no longer real.

I began to understand her sense of entitlement. After all, confidence comes with beauty. Without her former beauty, Laura was simply bitter, and for good reason.

Her three children weren't speaking to her, and her husband had quickly divorced her when she was diagnosed. He had married another beautiful woman, and she was left alone. She could not work, she had nothing to give, and she offered peace to no one.

Laura wasn't a saint. One of her children's wives had been adamant in her pity for the woman, and brings Laura's grandchildren to see her every month. And that is her only comfort. Laura goes to bingo to win candy for the kids so that she is able to dote on them when they come.

Laura would repeat a particular story to me, about why her family would no longer speak to her. She insisted that it was her mother's dying wish that Laura took her ex-husband back to court for the alimony she deserved. Her mother died, and Laura insists that she only did it for her.

Laura did indeed take her husband to court, and her lawyer sued for $800.00 a month– a bargaining chip, Laura insisted, to start the negotiations. She claimed her children didn't understand that it wasn't out of greed, it was out of necessity to get the settled amount of around $300.00. After that ugly battle, her three children disowned her.

I never understood why she would repeat this to me, as I always thought it would be unnecessary for me to hear. I wasn't there to forgive her.

Sometimes, I still think of her. Months later, I have a different view. Since I was apart from her, it was my place to be kind to her. I had a thought, deep in the night, as I was drifting to sleep, about Laura. Indeed, maybe it was my place to forgive her.

She was alone, and played the only card she had to sustain herself and stay alive. Maybe, she did act out of greed, and couldn't tell her children or ex-husband out of the pride she still had left.

Through each other, and only each other, we are redeemed. I had a thought about redemption. Does redemption only exist if someone else can give it? Are we redeemed by the forgiveness of each other? It is indeed a human need to hear, "I see you, I understand you, and you are accepted." Even if the deed was not against me, it was in my power to say this.

I think that's the thing about forgiveness--it's universal, and we can receive it from universal places. As for Laura, I hope she at least knows I saw her, I understood, and I accepted.