In our busy lives, intimacy often becomes a set piece—we sit down and make time for discussions, for togetherness, for sharing. But sometimes the most intimate parts of ourselves—our desires, our fears, our needs and sensitivities—are revealed most strongly in the course of our mundane routines.

Apologies often cannot undo pain; but they can acknowledge it. And part of the cruelty of bullying is that the bruises it leaves are on the inside—it’s a hidden form of violence, shrouded by shame.

Choosing life is always messy. But it is there in the messiness, in the conflicted and often confused ways we live our lives, that we can learn how much mercy matters to us all.

Mercy is God’s loving response to sinners; and mercy is our loving response to others—and to ourselves—in circumstances of need. To this I would add that mercy, as an experience of love, has an unexpected quality—something unforeseen or unanticipated. We talk about mercy when we feel or offer forgiveness, when we find or give help and assistance, but we also speak about “mercy” when we are surprised by good deeds that catch us unawares and transform our lives for the better.