Redemption is a fickle beast; chooses its own schedule. It’s an animal hiding in a hollow log, or behind a 55 gallon drum rusting in the woods behind your home.  You know it’s out there somewhere, but you can’t decide on what direction you should go to find it.

You stumble on it by accident.  You flush it out from its hiding place. Perhaps it’s just had enough of you being stuck in misdeeds and mistakes for so long?  Maybe it’s disgusted with you, fed up with your wallowing. 

One way or another, it’s out.  From out of nowhere an audience appears and applauds a redemption arc, a wrong colored rainbow that springs up from where you are standing as the animal — a fox, a trendy red panda, a binturong —
bounds away from you.

You are left behind trying to classify your Redemption, give it a place in your personal taxonomy. 

Don’t just stand there.  Start running, let the nature of the next steps decide what to call it.