Forgiveness

Over at Fully Caffeinated, Carrie brought up the issue of forgiveness. Coincidentally, I have been struggling with this issue.
A lot.
What does it mean to forgive?

As a mother, I forgive regularly and often.
It's easy.
I love my children.

Unconditionally.

I have forgiven them for the little things: the unmade beds, the rooms knee deep in clothes, both clean and dirty, that apparently, leap unbidden, from the chests of drawers and closets, the bathroom sink artfully decorated with green toothpaste spit.

The repeated daily offenses that require little, repeated daily forgiveness.
Petty nuisances that require constant nagging but require neither relationship repair nor restoration of trust.

I have forgiven them for the big things: the sticky fingers that somehow removed items from the store without first removing money from a wallet, the cheating at school, the overt and physical disrespect.

The one-time doosies that require big, God-love forgiveness.
Severe blows that require compassion and understanding and break the heart, increasing its capacity to love and accept.

I can do this.
I have done this.
I will continue to do this.

Not forgiving is not an option.

Then there is forgiveness for a friend.

I had a friend, a “best” friend, who judged me and found me wanting.
The Puanani she needed was different from the Puanani I was capable of being and, I think, different from the Puanani I wanted to be. This difference was unacceptable to my friend and she chose to severe our relationship.
Abruptly.

I was angry and hurt.
But, she was angry and hurt too.

She had been a friend who had gone above and beyond for me. She helped me to maintain my equilibrium during my divorce, at a time when I was teetering precariously on the edge of sanity. She had a certain vision of how my life would look after balance was restored. She expected me to have that same vision; after all, we had become like sisters, able to complete each other’s sentences and feel each other’s emotions.
We were of one mind...until we weren't. When my own was fully restored to me, I found that we did not always want the same things nor did we share the same vision. This hurt my friend and she was angry.

I could understand her feelings.
I forgave her and waited for her to forgive me.

A couple of weeks ago, she mailed me a note. It feels as though she has forgiven me.

Yet, when she asked if we could get together, my answer was "no".

I see no point. Rehashing the past would simply tear open old wounds and expose raw nerves.
I cannot mold myself to fit her image of who I should be – being her friend would require that I not be me. And, being my friend would require a change on her part that she cannot make. So I choose not to resume this friendship.

Some would say that this means that I have not truly forgiven her. I disagree.
I have.
I have also recognized the fact that we have chosen different paths, paths that have diverged, like a fork in a river. Coming together now would require damming that fork, leaving one side dry and barren, devoid of the life it once knew, and the other filled beyond its capacity, overflowing its boundaries and flooding the banks.
I do not want to be a raging river nor do I want to be a dry creek bed.
I do not want to alter my course. Luckily, forgiveness does not require that I do.

Forgiveness for Patrick, my children’s father, falls in another category.
Clearly, we did not love each other unconditionally.
Our marriage fell apart after being together for twenty-three years. I thought I knew this man, and I think he thought he knew me. Both of us were surprised by how little we really knew.

Our divorce proceedings were long and ugly.
Forgiveness and compassion were nonexistent.

Understanding…I had that.
I understood how he could feel hurt and angry. And so, I would try to forgive him. And just when I would get close to finding that forgiveness, he would reach into my chest.
Again.
And rip out my heart.
Again.
And stomp all over it.
Again.
Hard.

And I couldn’t, and still can’t, get away from him. He is inexorably twisted into the fiber of my life. I cannot say, as I did with my friend, “no”. He is a nagging itch under my skin that will not go away.

Sometimes, our relationship is better than others. Last Christmas, it felt as though we were on the brink of becoming friends. It passed. In January, we were back to sitting on opposite sides of the gym, resenting that we both had to breathe the same air.

Having him in my life requires almost daily forgiveness. The great big God-love forgiveness. And he is not my child, and sometimes, I don’t feel like forgiving him and I don’t want to forgive him and I resent that I feel like I should forgive him because he doesn’t deserve it, and he hasn’t forgiven me, and…just because.

I do know that when I am able to forgive him, I feel better. That sour taste, the alum in my mouth feeling that sucks the moisture out of my mouth while simultaneously causing me to salivate the way one does right before one throws up…that feeling goes away.
I also know that sometimes, forgiving him just takes more effort than I have in me.

But I want peace.
I know that forgiveness will give me peace.
And so I struggle with it.


I struggle with forgiveness.

What it means to forgive.
How to forgive.