This PFAS thing is serious.
As I’ve watched it play out over the past year and a half that I’ve lived in Katherine, I’ve noticed something.
Nobody likes to say sorry. And when they do, it’s often a long time coming.
Nobody much likes to forgive, either, for that matter.
On one level, fair enough, if this thing is dangerous it will not just affects livelihoods, but lives – including my kids.
I have three little boys. They don’t like saying sorry either.
But sadly they’ve learnt to say the ‘meaningless sorry’ too. You know what I mean, the ‘sorry’ we say when we really aren’t, but when we feel it will improve our prospects if we say it.
Like a certain recession in my childhood, it’s the ‘sorry you had to have’. A Clayton’s sorry - the sorry you have when you’re not having a sorry.
Anyways, what we’ve been trying to teach our boys is the little phrase ‘sorry means change’.
Because that’s at the heart of a real sorry. And not just change of behaviour - cos you can fake that too - but change of heart.
I wonder what a real sorry with change would look like for this PFAS mess? And what would forgiveness cost?
St Paul’s Anglican Church meets on Sundays at 9am with kids church. All welcome.