Forgiveness powerful force in forging close relationships

She's my girl. She arrives on Thursday, and ends up spending the long weekend at my house. Being a gentleman, I offer her my bed. My 6-year-old offers her his bed. Ooh, a little rivalry here?

I respect her. I enjoy her. I love her. She makes me laugh. She "gets" me. I admire her. She's beautiful. She is and will always be somewhere in the top three most important and powerful women in my life.

My children thrive in her company. She respects them, treats them like people. She bakes chocolate chip cookies for them. She goes trout fishing with them, and baits her own hook! She camps. She does yard work. (You gotta love a girl who knows when to eschew makeup and get dirty!) She plays Crazy Eights with my 6-year-old.

She's a romantic. She loves poetry, and digs Rod McKuen. I can't remember the last time I met a woman who even knew who Rod McKuen was.

Her personality has layers. She's really intelligent, but also imaginative, and other times just plain silly. She knows when to be classy, when to be professional, and when to be bawdy, edgy and outrageous. She knows when and how to laugh at dirty jokes. And when and how to tell them.

She's one of the most courageous women I've ever known. She seeks adventure. She's the sort who listens to the restless voices and visions within. Once she quit a job in Boston, got in her car and headed west, dropping off resumes at every stop along the way. Her car stopped where she found the job she wanted -- East Bay San Franscisco.

She hurt me once. Deeply. Injured my very soul. Took me a long time to realize how seriously I was hurt, and longer still to admit it to myself, to others, and eventually to her.

Her love for me has shaped me. Her betrayal of me shaped me.

All significant relationships have ups and downs. Conflicts. If you're going to have lasting bonds with human beings -- lovers, friends, mates, spouses, your parents, your children, extended family -- then get this in your head: The human being with whom you'll nurture this lasting bond is a sinner. So are you. Said more simply, amongst the many things you'll do in a lifetime is hurt each other. Probably more than once.

If lasting bonds are what you seek, then you'll have to have a way to navigate these injuries, to address them, reconcile them, and ultimately to forgive them.

So, how do we decide whether to do the work of reconciliation? Or when to just let the pain lie unattended? Or when to withdraw, even to terminate a relationship?

Here's my own personal Reconciling Formula ...

It begins with the paradox of self-respect. On the one hand, I respect myself for doing the work of reconciliation when someone has hurt me. On the other hand, I (finally!) respect myself enough to set real limits with people who can't/won't/don't stop hurting me.

Next is my desire, my energy for the work. That question is answered by the time, the history and the amount of investment I have in the relationship -- what I think of its potential.

But the last criterion is huge. I make an assessment regarding the other person's ability and willingness to tell the truth. To look at themselves. Because, while you can probably forge a kind of peace with anyone, reconciliation is another matter. It's impossible to reconcile with someone who can't look at themselves. Who won't tell the truth.

I respect nothing in a person more than the uncommon courage of the willingness to look within. To tell the truth.

Which is why I respect this woman staying at my house. Which is why we're not estranged, why we're not merely still together, but thriving.

It's why the betrayal is, today, actually a part of our cherished bond. Part of the strength of our love. That healed wound in me/us is part of how I recognize her.

Forgiving her is one of the most beautiful things I have ever done. A gift to myself. But I couldn't have done it if she wasn't one of the most beautiful women I have ever known.

You get that I'm not talking about her looks, right?

She left early on Monday morning while I was still asleep. But she left a note:

"I love you! Thank you." -- Mom.

Steven Kalas is a behavioral health consultant and counselor at Clear View Counseling Wellness Center in Las Vegas and the author of "Human Matters: Wise and Witty Counsel on Relationships, Parenting, Grief and Doing the Right Thing" (Stephens Press). His columns appear on Sundays. Contact him at skalas@reviewjournal.com.