At the Intersection of Resentment and Forgiveness
Dear
Girlfriends,
My friend
Connie is what I want to look like and act like when I'm 70 years old. Energy
and enthusiasm follow her like an orb as she sprints her daily three-mile walk
around our neighborhood. One word sums her up: light. She's pure light.
So,
intrigued by this beautiful woman - chronologically old enough to be my mom but
young enough in spirit to be my baby sister, I invited Connie to lunch. I
wanted to know about the important decisions she had made in her life and how
they had shaped her. I knew there was much to learn from this feisty character.
Connie
said, "One of the biggest choices I had to make throughout my life was whether
to extend forgiveness or to hold on to resentment. I took the wrong road. I
chose to harbor my hurt."
Connie was
birthed to a 17-year-old mom and an absentee father. Connie's mother, being
both a glamorous and fun-loving woman, lacked the emotional maturity to be the
"Mom" that Connie longed for. For 12 years, while her mom dated, Connie's
grandmother, who lived with them, provided for her care and direction. But at
last her mother did settle down with a fabulous father figure for Connie, and
she looked to establish the mother-daughter bond that Connie had longed for,
for so many years. But it was too late.
In those
short but formative 12 years, Connie had learned to revel in resentment toward
her mother and quickly realized, as her mother tried harder and harder to reach
her, that she (Connie) had something to hold over her, and Connie found that
she enjoyed the power. Connie said, "I fed my hurt."
Connie
would find herself at this same intersection over and over, as her mom sought
to soothe the pain she had caused for her then-young daughter. But Connie
continued to turn onto the road of resentment instead of forgiveness. Connie's
own kids were amazed that their mom - so giving and so forgiving of others -
held onto bitterness with both hands when it came to their grandmother.
As Alzheimer's
besieged her once-healthy mom, Connie's heart began to soften. Her mom - still
recognizing Connie - was comforted by her only child as her care-giver. But
still, the important words had not been said. Finally, Connie found herself
sitting at the corner of resentment and forgiveness for the last time.
At her mother's
death bed, where she lay in a deep comatose state, Connie sent her family from
her mother's room. She laid her head upon her mother's pillow and whispered
softly in her mother's ear, "Will you forgive
me?" Against all odds, Connie's
mom, never opening her eyes, squeezed her daughter's hand.
Isn't it
interesting that for 65 years, Connie's mom sought her forgiveness but in the
end it was Connie who asked for hers? Connie realized that she had sacrificed
years of incredible joys and celebrations in order to harbor her hurt, feed her
pain, and try to right a wrong from so long ago.
The bitterest tears
shed over graves are for words left unsaid and deeds left undone.
- Harriett Beecher Stowe
Connie
mourned her mother's death but her tears were not bitter - she had made her
peace with her mom, and herself. But as this wise and precious woman sat across
from me at our table in the restaurant, her tears flowed with regret for the
years wasted.
Are there
words for you to say? Is their forgiveness for you to extend. . . or now, to
request?
Girlfriends,
turn on your blinker. Stop feeding your pain and extend grace. Don't waste the
last precious years you have with someone by clutching your hurt like it's a
priceless treasure. For the treasure you lose is the all that you might have enjoyed together.
Turning
onto forgiveness,
Ellen
Posted by Ellen on March 18, 2008 2:13 PM
| Category: Crossroads
|
