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The Gift of Forgiveness

Originally published in Joy of Medina County Magazine, May 2019 (see below)

 

Over the years, I have learned a lot about forgiveness that goes against conventional wisdom and certainly what is posted in social media.

You do not have to forgive the abuser to achieve wellness or to move on.

The energy spent forcing yourself to forgive someone is better used elsewhere.

The only person who needs forgiveness from you is you.

Forgive yourself for being a victim, for being hurt.

Forgive yourself for being angry, you have the right to be angry and the right to let it go when you are ready.

Forgive yourself for the time it takes to heal and for the setbacks that slow that healing.

Forgive yourself for needing the help, support and resources of family and friends while you heal. As amazing as you are now, you will be even more so after healing.

When considering giving the gift of forgiveness, ask yourself these questions first:

Did they say sorry and ask for forgiveness?

Did they change? Not for the moment, but long term? Change proves an apology’s sincerity. There is no deadline for forgiveness, it should not be given until change is proven.

Have you healed? For as long as it takes for the bones to knit, for the bruises to fade away, for the pain and heartache to heal, they should have to wait for forgiveness.

Being granted forgiveness is not a right, granting it is not a requirement. It is a gift.

This Mother’s Day, forgiveness is not a gift my mother will be given from me. She once again will receive the silence she earned through the horrific abuse she was so sure no one would remember.

I have forgiven myself for being too small, too weak, too young to stop the abuse or to save others. I forgive myself for not being perfect. I am comfortable with the knowledge that every day I do my best to bring joy to the world and that my children are the first in four generations to not be abused.

To good mothers and to those who have mothers who loved them, a joyous, happy Mother’s Day to you. It was your existence that gave me hope when I needed it most.

 

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School’s Real Lesson

Originally published in Joy of Medina County Magazine, Sept.  2018 (see below)

Every school year, when I was a kid, I would be excited at the chance that this year would be different.

I let myself have hope that somehow freshly sharpened new pencils with unsmudged erasers and clean paper in undented folders would change the world.

That this would finally be the year that I would feel smart, the bullies would have forgotten about me, and somehow a miracle would have happened, and I would be Popular.

Then one year, it finally did happen, for one whole school year.

I learned something that year. I knew I was the same as I had always been. I was too stubborn to have become like the popular girls to gain popularity.

Later, I would realize the change had come because of the huge party I had thrown in between our freshman and sophomore high school years. I had invited almost the whole class, making sure the popular kids were invited because the boy I had a crush on was part of their crowd. I was not having the party to gain popularity, I was focused on planning to tell the boy how I felt (it did not go well, but that is another story).

On the first day of the following school year, suddenly I was recognized as worthy by the Popular Ones, and the bullying stopped. In my puzzlement, I realized I had bought my new status.

As I enjoyed my new popularity, I could see with sudden clarity how shallow and unimportant popularity really was.

It was then that I understood what adults had been telling me all along: In the long run, popularity in school means nothing.

The miracle year ended and so did my popularity, but it no longer mattered. I had realized the side of the room I had come from was so much the richer in texture and experience and that the friends I had there were real.

High school and life are not really about who is popular, that is just the façade used as a distraction and held in place by those who are too scared to know themselves.

Being popular is not the lesson, the lesson is what you learn about yourself and what you choose to do with that knowledge.  Too many are so busy maintaining their social status or trying to improve it, that they miss the lesson.

High school and college are far behind me now. I have watched as my children chose their paths and I tried to teach them what I had learned.  As with most lessons we teach our children, I will not know if they learned it until I see what they teach their children.

In the end, being brave enough to be yourself and being kind is all that truly matters.

 

 

 

Blackboard photo by JESHOOTS.COM

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The Path is Littered With Eggshells

Originally published in Joy of Medina County Magazine, Aug. 2018 (see below)

On the farm, when I was a kid, there were times when things got to the point where there was a huge buildup of emotions, tensions and unfinished disagreements.

At such times, my mother and aunt would go outside and face off with a dozen raw eggs each. At least, that is how it would start.

They would stand about 10 feet apart, looking like old-time gunfighters, and would toss an egg in their hands, up and down, taunting each other until one had had enough and would lob an egg at the other, and it was on!

Our job, as kids, was to stay out of it and fetch fresh dozens of eggs as ammo ran low.

The eggs would soar through the air like rockets, ending in satisfying cracks and ooze.

Eventually, we would run out of eggs or my mother and aunt would tire, and the battle would end with them laughing at each other as eggs dripped from their noses, fingers and shirt hems.

But you know what?

Those moments of crazy, no-rules egg throwing released the anger, stress and frustration of trying to survive.

It was after such crazy moments that they found a common ground and could agree on issues they could not previously. And, just as importantly, they kept us kids out of it.

We fetched eggs, but we were not allowed to join in because, oddly enough, the whole thing was about the grown-up world, even though, for just a few moments, they acted like children to get there.

Looking at the world today, I cannot help but think how wonderful it would be to see adults let their guards down, lob a few eggs, get hit by a few, and laugh. Laugh like they haven’t since childhood and reconnect with the humanity that we have all misplaced and need to find.

 

 

 

Egg photo by 𝚂𝚒𝚘𝚛𝚊 𝙿𝚑𝚘𝚝𝚘𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚑𝚢