Realizations Inc

Vol. 4, No. 4

We sat together in the waning twilight, her BTSA (Benziger Thinking Styles Assessment) profile spread out on the table in front of us. I watched as one emotion after another displayed itself across her face. Finally she spoke.

"I can hardly believe how much sense this makes. It explains so many things in my life."

"I’ve often thought the same thing myself," I replied smiling. There was a pregnant pause.

When she continued speaking her voice was low and wistful. "How I wish I had been able to learn this 30 years ago!"

"Well, you know it now," I responded. "How are you going to implement this knowledge?"

Her face fell. Gathering her papers together she stood up and stated flatly, "I’m not. It’s too late."

"Fortunately, it’s never too late!" I stated just as flatly. "In fact, your future health and ultimate success in life may depend on it."

She shook her head. "Even if it weren’t too late, I could never forgive myself for all the mistakes I’ve made. Mistakes I might have avoided if I’d know some of this sooner!"

"Hmmm," I responded. "You remind me of a story I heard not long ago¾ about a prisoner."

"Prisoner?" she asked. Her eyes were filled with tears as well as questions.

"Yes, a prisoner," I replied. And then I told her.

Shortly before an inmate was to be executed (so the story goes) he was visited by a local clergyman who brought with him a message from the State Governor. As the minister entered the cell, however, the doomed man yelled, "Just get out of here! I don’t want to see you; I don’t want to see anyone! No one has been able to help me and I certainly don’t want any prayers or religious stuff now!"

"But just a moment," the clergyman insisted. "I have a letter for you signed by the Governor of the State." He held out the envelope.

Throwing the letter back at the minister, the convict screamed, "I don’t want to hear from him, either! Now get out!"

After several more attempts at conversation, the clergyman picked up the discarded document and left with the message still unread.

Later that evening when the prison warden came by the death cell, he informed the prisoner; "The letter you refused to accept from the clergyman was a pardon."

It was reported that just before he was executed, the criminal’s last words were, "I’m dying¾ not because of my crimes but because I refused to accept a pardon."

I finished the story with these words: "Metaphorically, you are both the prisoner and the governor. A whole host of factors combined to prevent you from being the person you were designed to be. You did the best you could with the information you had. Most people do. In effect, however, this additional knowledge can help to set you free unless, of course, you refuse to pardon yourself and refuse to accept that pardon. What will it be?"

She looked at me and a new light shone in her eyes. Sitting down again she opened her profile. "Well," she said deliberately. "When you put it to me that way, I want the pardon!"