A loved one passes

This one is going to take a few posts, as I have neither the time nor the skill to sum up this man's meaning to me in just one.

How do I describe the debt I owe to my father-in-law?  If he had done nothing more than escort my bride down the aisle and place her hand in mine, I would have owed him more than I could ever repay.  He loved and raised the girl who became the woman who is now my partner in life.

What forgiveness is

Well, there's no sense in starting from scratch.  It isn't as if this is the first time I've ever written on the topic of forgiveness, and surely a sentence or two of those posts must be pertinent to the topic at hand.  So let me start with a couple of thoughts that I've previously written that may be relevant to the question of what forgiveness is:

May 04, 2007

(T)here is a difference between someone offering us forgiveness and us receiving it. Many of us never truly receive the love, forgiveness and reconciliation offered us . . . (F)orgiveness is a process, not usually an instantaneous event. When I've been deeply hurt by someone, forgiving them doesn't mean I don't feel hurt or angry, at least right away. It does, however, mean that I never stop wanting the best for them.  Or, rather, once I've forgiven, I want the best for them once again.

January 19, 2010

Even if . . . someone has only tolerated me for the sake of family harmony . . . they have treated me with compassion.  Though they aren't quite the same thing, compassion often goes hand-in-hand with forgiveness.

Okay, there are some key insights applicable to what forgiveness is. But I don't think any of these thoughts hits the central root of forgiveness. In chewing on this since Monday one thing has become much clearer to me:

Forgiveness is a decision, a choice we make.

We make a choice to forgive or not to forgive someone for the hurt they've done to us.  When we say things like "I could never forgive" someone for something, what we're really saying is that we can't picture ourselves ever being willing to make the choice to forgive that person for the specified offense.

So forgiveness is a decision or choice to do, or maybe to not do, something or things:

• While forgiveness doesn't mean forgetting, it probably does mean choosing not to call to mind and dwell on how I've been wronged.  It isn't that I've forgotten it, but I've probably chosen not to recall it.  I'm not going to keep turning this offense over in my mind, looking at it from every angle, recalculating the total damage.
• It might also be the decision to let go of the hurt someone has caused rather than to embrace it.  Not to deny the hurt, but to choose not to let it define that person for us.  
• And yes, I really believe it is the decision to want what is truly best for the person who has hurt me, and not in a way that is dismissive.  
• It doesn't mean denying that I've been hurt, but includes the decision not to let that hurt have any more power over me.  As a result, the hurt becomes more a thing that I've experienced in the past rather than something I choose to relive.
• For me, it includes an understanding that judging the one who hurt me is not good for me.

This idea of forgiveness as a decision to let go of the hurt we've received and restore a sense of good will toward the person who has hurt us seems to me to be pretty close to what forgiveness really is all about.  

I still feel it may be a process that we often go through gradually.  Some people seem to think that it's a decision completed in a moment, but I find that, for me, forgiving the most grievous hurts I've received has happened only by repeating this decision over time.  Each time I become a little more free of the burden I've been carrying - I've known for a very long time that unforgiveness is a terrible load to bear -  until at last I am completely clear of it.  Perhaps that may begin to be the case with my self-judgment, as well.

Okay, I may end up writing some more on this, and have also revised my previous post as a few additional thoughts and corrections have popped up.  Remembering the things that forgiveness isn't in light of what it is remains important for living a healthy, forgiving life.

And on that note: on this Thanksgiving day, I'm grateful for the forgiveness I've received, that I've been blessed to choose, and that which is still in progress . . . 

A message of thanksgiving

Last night at our prayer meeting, we had an extended quiet time following our prayer and praise, before receiving the first word gift.  I felt led to look for a scripture passage on the theme of finding God's presence in the quiet, and opened my Bible to the Psalms to look for one.  Before I got there, I found Psalm 145, and since Sunday was the feast of Christ the King, this also seemed appropriate to share.  But before I could open my mouth to read it, one of the other men there shared a message in prophecy, so I set down my Bible and began writing down this message, as we do each week; my co-leader wasn't there to take care of this for us as he usually would.  The message spoke of the importance of always giving thanks for the many blessings which God rains down upon us.  Keeping our attention fixed on God in gratitude for this wondrous love bears witness to his greatness and glory, draws others toward God's great love, and keeps our hearts positioned to receive the further blessings God may wish to bestow.

Only after writing this down did I pick my Bible back up and start to read from Psalm 145:

I will extol you, my God and king; I will bless your name forever.
Every day I will bless you; I will praise your name forever.
Great is the LORD and worthy of high praise; God's grandeur is beyond understanding.
One generation praises your deeds to the next and proclaims your mighty works.
They speak of the splendor of your majestic glory, tell of your wonderful deeds.
They speak of your fearsome power and attest to your great deeds.
They publish the renown of your abounding goodness and joyfully sing of your justice.
The LORD is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in love.
The LORD is good to all, compassionate to every creature.
All your works give you thanks, O LORD and your faithful bless you.
They speak of the glory of your reign and tell of your great works,
Making known to all your power, the glorious splendor of your rule. (Ps 145, 1-12, NAB)

Now I imagine that my friend already had the wonderful feast of Thanksgiving on his mind when he shared his message, but it was the furthest thing from my mind as I considered sharing this psalm, and I hadn't even turned the page to notice how this theme resounded in these verses.

For all my recent doubt, I cannot manage to explain how two independently delivered messages can resonate so perfectly, except by the Spirit's guidance.

Thank you, God, for your wonderful blessings and incredible love!

What forgiveness isn't (tweaked 11/25)

Okay, I've struggled to cut myself some slack.  In my therapy session yesterday, we pretty quickly got to the obvious observation that I've never really forgiven myself, though I probably once thought I had. In fact, I'm pretty sure that I wouldn't have been considered to have completed my former course of therapy had I not been convinced that I had.

Anyway, he started by having me consider how the abuse I received as a child and young man played a role in my subsequent behavior, and I'm pretty sure he agreed with my analysis that using that to excuse myself wouldn't be a healthy approach.  So then we started focusing on the concept of what forgiveness really is, as opposed to what a lot of us may equate it with.  Here are a few things that we discussed that I know aren't quite the same as forgiveness.  We'll start with a couple obvious ones:

• Forgetting:  "Forgive and forget," is a really popular phrase of choice.  The thing is, we can't fully control that, and we'd be pretty ill equipped for life if we actually did that.  Forgetting the events that have hurt us would keep us from learning and leave us to vulnerable in the world. But here's a thought we didn't consider: maybe there's a difference between forgetting a thing and choosing not to call it to mind at every occasion. Hmm, maybe I should've saved this one for later in the list, because that will bear some further examination . . .
• Removal of consequences:  Even if we've forgiven someone, there are often consequences to their actions that still must play out.  For instance, even if I've forgiven someone I may decide that it's necessary to handle similar situations in a different way.  I might make that decision for the benefit of the person who has hurt me, or for the protection of others for whom I responsible, or just because of what is healthy for me.  So there are often consequences that remain in effect even if forgiveness is offered freely.
• Restoration of relationship:  This one is two-sided, and partly falls into the previous topic.   There are some ways in which someone may hurt another, that prevents them from ever being in relationship with the other person again.  On the other hand, I have first-hand experience of someone choosing to be in a relationship with me who never really forgave me.  
• Excusing or minimizing the hurtful behavior, or excusing the person who committed it.  Forgiveness doesn't mean saying that what was done to us was okay or or not that bad.  Nor does it mean saying that it's okay or understandable that the offender committed those acts. 
• Trust:  This seems contradictory, at first glance, and if I hadn't experienced it I probably would have argued against it.  
• You might think that we can never trust someone again whom we haven't forgiven, and yet I've found that I can indeed trust someone to never do the thing that hurt me again, and yet not have truly forgiven them for having done it in the first place.  I know it's possible, because it's how I feel about myself.  I know I've taken the steps I needed to address my actions and keep from ever repeating them again, and yet I haven't fully forgiven myself for doing them in the first place.  I knew how hurtful I was being, even as I minimized that in my mind, and I should never have done it.  And I can see that it would be possible to feel the same way about someone else, though I've never had that experience.  
• On the other hand, it's also possible to forgive someone and still not trust them not to repeat the offense.  In that case, one would likely make choices to help someone not repeat their hurtful behavior, as much for their sake as to avoid receiving further hurt at their hands.

It seems odd to me that I could have written sixteen previous posts on the topic of forgiveness without having clearly articulated for myself what forgiveness really means.  I'll need to read through them and see if I once had a better sense of it and have just failed to apply it to myself.  But in writing through these things that it clearly doesn't mean, I'm beginning to get a sense of what I really think it might be.  But that will be long enough to save for a separate post.

A conflict

So the week that we've been so anticipating has already developed into a considerable difference of opinion between Teri and me.  It isn't that we're "arguing," exactly.  It's more a matter of not being of one mind.  I can't do anything about it, except to yield on something I think is important.  But I understand how she feels, too.

(2/25/2015 - I have no idea what this was about.)

Exercising the contributive identity

Though all the dog lovers out there might hate me for saying it, I think maybe I should learn something from the way Michael Vick seems to be handling his past.  It seems he manages to keep from being consumed by guilt over the wrongs he's done, without minimizing them.  Of course, it could be that he still doesn't really think what he did was "all that bad," and by comparison, I guess I'd tend to agree . . . (the reader will please note that I am not suggesting that cruel treatment of animals is not a terrible evil, but its practitioners likely compare it against murder, torture, rape, and many forms of child abuse to conclude that it isn't as harmful as other things . . . )

There's Fr. Spitzer's "comparative identity" kicking in again.  And I really think that this concept must be at the root of effectively dealing with my shameful past.

There's some important reconciling of my thought processes to be done here . . .

Agreeing with Thomas Wolfe

This morning I had a friend request from a classmate from grade- and high-school.  I'd seen Gary since then, at least once that I remember, at our 25-year high school reunion.  It was good to see him, along with the couple other folks from our grade school who'd gone to the same high school.  His friend request was a pleasant surprise, and I enjoyed strolling through his friends list to see other familiar folks, many of whom I haven't laid eyes on in 35 years.  Among them was my first crush, with whom I share a birthday, along with my closest friend from my junior high years and a number of other people it might be nice to say "hi" to after all these decades.

The thing is, back then, I was pretty much an outcast - I mean, there was only one of these folks I ever really thought of as a friend.  I know, now, that this wasn't their fault.  I'm sure most of them would be somewhat glad to hear from me now, in a "blast from the past, glad we made it" sort of sense.  And I'm not the social misfit now that I was then.

Yet, I feel lonelier than ever, as if the mere act of reaching out to these once-familiar strangers and saying, "Hi.  How are you?" with no intention of acknowledging my interim history, would be disingenuous. Maybe that'd balance differently for me if I hadn't just learned of my late MIL's lifelong feelings, but that may be just as well. In truth, I still feel somewhat the same about every reconnection I've made since then.

I'm sure many of us have had our demons to battle.  "The brighter the light, the darker the shadow," as Fr. Dave quoted Carl Jung a few weeks ago, and that's certainly been true for me.  The darkness I've lived since they knew me is the reason I probably won't FB friend anyone from my childhood, even though I've long since emerged from it.

Ennui

I think I was more . . . what? . . .

when I just judged myself harshly, what was I more?

comfortable with my status quo?  satisfied with my life?  that's not exactly right . . .

appreciative of it?

maybe so . . .

It's a gray, cold, rainy day.  Matches my mood.

Time, time, time . . . See what's become of me
while I looked around for my possibilities.
I was so hard to please.
But look around: leaves are brown
and the sky is a hazy shade of winter.

. . .

Hang on to your hopes, my friend.
That's an easy thing to say, but if your hopes should pass away,
simply pretend that you can build them again.

Ineffective guilt management

I really could have gone the rest of my life not knowing that she went the rest of hers without ever forgiving me.

Why did you think I needed to know that??

Ineffective pain management

So I wake up at 4 am, ribs aching, needing ibuprofen.  I eat cookie and grab another, and get out the milk so I won't be taking my pill on an empty stomach.  On a quick check of FB, I see a post from Cassie that I really felt called for a reply.  Our girl is really struggling, though not any more than you'd expect an Army wife with three young children to struggle on her husband's first deployment to a war zone.  I wanted to share a message of support, but thought it best not to publicly post what I wanted to tell her.  So I spent the next 40 minutes carefully crafting what I wanted to say, including beginning to discuss her request that we watch the younger kids for her between Thanksgiving and Christmas.  


Then I fat-fingered a set of keystrokes and lost my message (FB, you really can't ask me "Are you sure?" before I leave a page where I've been writing?), and then spent the next 40 minutes redrafting my message.  By now I'm really beat, and even though I'm not really feeling any better, I send my message and head off to bed.  There I have a really fitful and uncomfortable two-and-a-half hours, after which I get up to get ready to go to St. Helen and pull music for this communion service at Trinity, when what I really want to do is just get a couple more restful hours of sleep.  


Then I walk into the kitchen, where I see the package of cookies sitting there open.  And the milk sitting open on the counter.


And my pill.


No wonder it never really kicked in.

A need for a more perfect union

I keep waiting for this recent breakthrough, for which I've longed for so many years, to start making the difference in our relationship that I've always imagined it would.  Over and over again I'm amazed as we express the common groundwork we've laid throughout the course of our life.  I hear the echoes of our hearts and our minds beating the same song.  And yet we feel like musicians who can't quite find the groove, each of us intent on the song, yet not able to play it together in a way that lets it just resonate in our lives.  The countermelodies we're interested in exploring don't work together.  We use similar words to describe what we think the song should sound like, but when we actually play it, it's as if we've had a different vision for it all along.

Our different day-to-day interests matter.  At the end of every day, you can't wait to unwind in front of the television, and while there are shows I enjoy, there aren't any that make me say "I'm really looking forward to relaxing for a while and watching the TV."  Certainly not every night!  You realize, right, that there's going to be something "interesting," and even worthwhile, on the television every night, right?  You're not going to miss anything important by choosing not to watch all of whatever tonight's programs might be . . .

The last two days in a row, you've had really great days.  I've admired you (still do) for the way you've lived them, caring for those you love - including me - yet setting your boundaries.  I've had tough but good days, too - for which I don't feel particularly appreciated, btw.  And yet the things we wanted at the end of each day didn't bring us together.  Would that have been different if we'd done the dishes together Wednesday, instead of me finishing them as you came back upstairs at 10:30?  I didn't resent doing them; I was glad to, and I really appreciate that you planned to do at least some of them before you came to bed, even after the day you'd put in.  I'm not complaining about doing this chore, but about how we ended our day in different activities. Would it have made a difference if your biggest concern on the way home from Shelly's party last night wasn't whether the Springsteen special I was finally catching on the DVR was going to keep you from watching your shows, and run off to them as soon as we finished dialoguing? In this case, probably not, as I had work to do, but I'm concerned about the trend of our interests taking us in different directions.  There we were, both nights, in different places, with different interests and priorities at work in our lives.

Don't get me wrong: I'm not going to build this into a crisis for us.  It has been status quo for too long for that, and doesn't keep me from loving you deeply.  But I'm also not going to pretend it isn't something we need to give some attention.  It has been going on for enough years that I know it's more than something for us to keep a cautious eye on.  I also understand that just because I may be the one it bothers, that doesn't make this just "my problem."  ME is supposed to help us keep from living our life as "married but separate."  We're supposed to find enough common ground to leave us room within our unity for our different interests.   But I'm growing concerned that our common interests aren't "daily" enough . . .

So what can we do about that?  Is daily dialogue going to give us a chance to explore my frustration and build more bridges in daily life?  If not, what's the point?

Mostly, I think it's important for you to know this: I'm feeling a little lonely.

Dear blog,

I'm sorry.  I know you deserve better.  I'll make you a deal.  You get the rest of my life to give me a break, and I'll take better care of you!

Seriously, though, I haven't even had time to work on therapy homework.