By Carlos Whittaker: It has swag for days. Designs as fresh as you will find. I mean the concept behind this campaign is mind-blowing. When I fist saw the Casey Anthony poster that Foster sent me, I set that as my desktop.

Casey Anthony.

She is gonna stare me straight in the eyes for as long as I can handle it.

It took me back to this post that I wrote a few weeks ago. She is stunning in that picture. Radiant even. She looks capable of nothing evil.

The horror it must be for someone to know that they will ALWAYS be looked upon as evil. That they will ALWAYS be remembered by their sin.

I wonder what that feels like?

Maybe if I stare at her on my desktop for a few weeks I can feel her pain.

Then it happened.

My mind raced back to 10th grade and that moment I was almost allowed into the popular crowd, for a price. And not a price I would pay. I remember walking up to Ingrid Rowens and my heart beating out of my chest. It was the last day of school and she was smiling from ear to ear. She was packing her locker up with one of her friends and I could feel the eyeballs piercing my spine as I stepped closer.

They were watching. Waiting. Using me. For their pleasure.

Just walk up to Ingrid, tap her on the shoulder, and ask her out. Ingrid probably weighed 300. Easy. When she says yes, smile and say…"I'm kidding. Why would I go out with a fat b-tch like you?"

This had happened to Ingrid 2 times in 2 years. The first time was horrific. The second time she cried before the guy even called her a fat b-tch. It was always on the last day of school and this year was my year. Her pain was their prize and I was their pawn.

"Hey Ingrid.  I know this is kinda awkward, but what are you doing Friday night?  Wanna hang out?"

Her face froze.

I knew in that moment that she knew. This was the third time she had heard this question from a random guy and she knew what was coming. And past the sky blue in her eyes, past the pain of her life, I saw her first choose to let me win, and gain the favor of those guys 20 yards behind me. But then, on her face, the look was different. Peaceful even. Maybe she saw the doubt in my eyes. The nervousness in my question. I swear to this moment I saw her decide again. I don't know how I saw it. But I did.

She made a decision to allow me a second chance.

A second chance at something I hadn't even destroyed her with yet.

"I'd love to." Ingrid said. Knowing full well the verbal and emotional destruction that was to follow, I looked back behind me. Then back at Ingrid.

"Cool.  7 o'clock ok?  Market Square Mall for a movie?"

I pretty much got my cool card for the summer revoked by going to the movie with the "fat b-tch".

But while I might have missed out on most of the parties that summer, at least Ingrid won't see the image below and have to be reminded to give radical grace.

It was a conscious decision that time with Ingrid. But there are plenty of times I didn't take that path by my victim, and the image above could serve as a perfect desktop to remind, say, that guy in the Home Depot parking lot yesterday that the bald Panamanian who flipped him off is really deserving of grace.

We can put our mugs on any of these posters.

We all haunt someones grace limit.

Who could put up your poster and be reminded to give radical grace?