The Shape of Forgiveness | Part 2
by Elouise
“Forgiving is a journey; the deeper the wound, the longer the journey”
“We do not forgive because we are supposed to; we forgive when we are ready to be healed.”
Lewis Smedes, in The Art of Forgiving: When You Need to Forgive and Don’t Know How, published by Moorings, 1996
When I was a child, my father required me to beg forgiveness from him and from God. Most often after a beating, or as the so-called resolution of a sisterly argument about an alleged offence. This was often tricky, because I knew the facts as presented weren’t quite all the facts.
I’m grateful forgiveness isn’t a required event. Especially forgiveness of my father.
I didn’t know it then, but my process of forgiveness began the day I confronted my now-deceased parents about being shamed, humiliated and silenced. The process isn’t yet completed, but I’ve made unexpected, life-giving progress.
The meeting I set up with my parents took place the eve of my 50th birthday in 1993, more than 23 years ago. During the meeting I asked for my father’s apology, with no expectation that he would apologize. My husband, my sister Diane, my mother, and a trusted pastor witnessed the conversation between my father and me. It lasted for 1 ½ hours.
My father refused to apologize for anything. He wasn’t interested in revisiting what happened between the two of us or between him and my sisters. He’d already done all his business with God, privately. Nothing I said or did would change his mind.
I was on my own, without my father’s blessing. Disappointed but not surprised. Still determined to work on my healing.
We say punishment should fit the crime. Even so, I believe forgiveness must fit each situation, especially those with life-changing consequences. This isn’t about mistakes or forgetfulness. It’s about the Big Stuff we wish had never happened to us.
Forgiving my father has been a long, sometimes painful process. I’m not yet there. Still, looking back, I see several areas of progress. Sometimes with lightening-speed insight; most of the time with determination, grit and courage to take the next painful look at him and at myself.
Since that historic meeting in 1993, I’ve made progress in at least the following areas.
- Acceptance of the life-changing enormity of what his behavior meant for me then and now
- Interest in my father’s life story
- Appreciation for his wounds, including his determination not to ask for help
- Awareness of his deeply rooted shame
- Compassion for him as another human being
I was surprised at how much more comfortable I became around my father, even though his opinions about me never changed. I enjoyed being in interview mode, though I didn’t always like what I heard. I was also comfortable being in the compassion mode. Especially because he carried many griefs, sorrows and disappointments similar to mine.
Nonetheless, I knew this change for the better wasn’t yet forgiveness, much less reconciliation. It was more like a cessation of warfare and a sometimes uneasy truce. I still had work to do.
To be continued….
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 5 April 2017
Your father was an hypocrite, and I think you should consign him to rot in the hell which he obviously would have believed in!
You need to just get up every morning, curse him and get on with your life. Soon you’ll find he’s been consigned to the place he deserves in your heart and mind!
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Brian, Thanks for reading and commenting. As you can see, I’ve chosen to go another way. I’ve found it both demanding and surprisingly rewarding. In fact, this work is the way I’m getting on with my life. I don’t know that it’s the right way for anyone else. Or the only way.
I’m glad and grateful you don’t minimize what happened to me. Or try to talk me into believing it’s all in my head, or a horrible misunderstanding. 💐
Elouise
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I know it’s not, you’re probably getting quite a bit of relief by writing about it and when you finish, exhausted, you will be much better!
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😊
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to see through the darkness with love and understanding, shines light on the soul and the world ❤ ❤ ❤
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lovely words, Kim. Thank you kindly.
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Reblogged this on johnsstorybook and commented:
Part One was posted on my other blog but I think it should have been here. This is #2 and #3 & #4 will be here in a day or so. Elouise has a lot of deep things to say that I would have liked to have said but I am not as good at it as she is.
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Well, John, that’s a very kind comment there at the end. I won’t go on about your gift of writing….but I could! 🙂
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Re the interchange between Elouise and Brian – It makes me really quite delighted that two people who look at life from such opposite standpoints can relate without ridiculing each other.
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Thanks, John. I also owe you a great big thanks for introducing me to Brian. As I recall, you reblogged one of his posts. It was about healthcare, if I remember correctly. I was hooked, and never looked back!
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Whatever the outcome of this, I know that hatred will eat you up and then they have won. A neighbour quarrelled with me many years ago and he then pursued policy of every time he saw me, giving me 30 seconds of loud and vile abuse. I wanted to knock his block off, but my wife just said “Ignore him and see what happens”. Well, after six months or so he got so angry he had to be taken away by his relatives and we didn’t see him for a good while. Soon after, he moved. So I really did have the last laugh!
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Thanks, John, for reading and for this wonderful memory. Your wife sounds like a Wise Woman! 🙂 And yes, I agree, hatred can absolutely eat you up if you focus on that. I don’t think I’ve hated my father more than the ordinary child does in any sort-of-normal home. I have, however, carried a huge load of shame around for decades. Shame my father put there, rooted in his anger toward his own rage-aholic father (anger he tried to beat out of me lest I grew up to be just like his father). I’m so happy you visited!
Elouise
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