The Price of a Moment: A Reflection on Temporary Decisions and Permanent Pain

The Price of a Moment: A Reflection on Temporary Decisions and Permanent Pain

by Kateb Nuri-Alim Shunnar

You ever made a decision so fast your soul barely had time to blink, and then right after, you hear the Creator like, “Now why would you go and do that?” Yeah me too. More times than I’d like to count.

Some choices hit like a drive-thru burger quick, greasy, and satisfying for all of five minutes then your stomach flips, and regret settles in like a nosy neighbor who ain’t got nowhere else to be. I’ve been there. Acted on impulse. Pridefully sidestepped prayer and skipped the patience aisle like it was closed for the day.

I thought I had it all under control. Me, my ego, and my overconfidence threw a party and left God off the guest list. I made calls from an emotional basement and expected spiritual penthouse blessings. Spoiler alert: that elevator don’t go up if you’re pushing the wrong buttons.

And I’ll be honest I’ve twisted the truth a little here and there. Tried to slip out of stuff or maneuver someone else into a better spot. It wasn’t always malicious, but it sure wasn’t righteous either. And while I might’ve fooled some people, the Creator? Oh no. He watched the whole thing like, “This man really out here lying with confidence.”

But here’s the grace in it all: even when I was neck-deep in foolishness, the Creator didn’t throw me away. He didn’t hit me with the cosmic “I told you so.” He just reached down, took my hand, and said, “Come on now, you done?” That right there is divine love. That’s mercy seasoned with a whole lot of patience.

And let me tell you, being straight-up honest with yourself first, then with God is a soul bath. It cleans you out, clears the fog, and lets the light back in. It’s like that first gulp of ice water after walking ten blocks in the July heat when even the pavement is sweating.

So yeah, I’m setting the table spiritually and symbolically. Setting it for repentance, for reconciliation, for Yom Kippur. You’re welcome to join me. No need to bring a dish just show up with your truth.

If I, Kateb Nuri-Alim Shunnar, have done anything knowingly or not that caused you pain… If I spoke too sharply, acted carelessly, or left you out in a moment you needed someone in your corner… I humbly and wholeheartedly ask your forgiveness.

And to anyone who ever did me wrong talked slick behind my back, left me hanging, drained my spirit, disrespected my kindness, or ghosted me like a haunted house in October I forgive you. All of you. Yes, even you,

Because forgiveness isn’t weakness. It’s not some meek surrender. Nah it’s a superpower. It’s lifting a weight off your own back while the other person’s still busy holding grudges like coupons from last year. Forgiveness is freedom, plain and simple.

Now let me take y’all down memory lane with a little Southern storytelling:

Forgiveness sets you free.

The Tale of Foolish Freddy and the Great Collard Green Catastrophe

Freddy was the kinda guy who thought he had the cheat code to life. Thought he was too slick for trouble and too smart for common sense. So when Miss Ernestine threw her annual backyard Sunday dinner, Freddy saw an opportunity. This wasn’t just any meal this was the event. Miss Ernestine’s collard greens were legendary. Folklore. Folks said eating them could heal heartbreak, cure a hangover, and bring your ex back (if you wanted them back).

Freddy, being Freddy, figured he’d skip the prayer and sneak a scoop while nobody was looking. Quiet as a church mouse on tiptoe, he crept toward that steaming pot like he was on a secret mission from heaven.

But just as he lifted that spoon, the Lord sent down a divine sneeze. Freddy let out a thunderclap of a sneeze so strong, it launched the greens straight into the kiddie pool. Splash. There went the blessing.

Miss Ernestine didn’t yell. Didn’t flinch. She looked at Freddy over her glasses and said, “Baby, some folks don’t realize their hunger don’t come with manners.” Freddy ain’t been invited back since. Rumor has it, he now brings potato salad with raisins just outta spite.

Now, that story’s funny but also real. Just like Freddy, we let our hunger for control, validation, attention, or affection push us into messes we could’ve avoided. We act before we ask. We lunge before we listen.

And the world doesn’t help. We’re surrounded by fast decisions, quick fixes, and spiritual shortcuts. We’re out here making lifelong choices in three minutes flat like we’re ordering takeout for our destiny.

And the heat? Oh, it’s not just the summer sun  it’s the heavy pressure of our own choices. It’s walking around with baggage we packed in a moment of desperation. But thank goodness for the breeze of divine love. That sacred whisper that says, “It’s not too late. Come sit down. Let’s start over.”

This reflection ain’t about guilt. It’s about growth. It’s about truth. It’s about the kind of humility that cracks you open just enough for the light to pour in.

So pull up a chair. Bring your past. Your pride. Your pain. Bring your Freddy moments and your Miss Ernestine wisdom. Let’s eat. Let’s talk. Let’s heal. Let’s stop letting temporary madness make permanent messes. Let’s be bold enough to forgive, honest enough to repent, and brave enough to laugh at the parts of ourselves that still have some growing up to do.

The Creator still walks with us. Still waits for us. Still loves us.

And if that ain’t a reason to exhale and try again I don’t know what is.