I love apologizing to my son. He is one of the most gracious souls I know. In his own eight year old way, he is able to accept an apology in such a way that honors the humility and courage it sometimes takes to say, "I'm sorry". I know that sounds like a lot for an eight year old, but it's so true.
There is something so healing in apologizing to Henry. I can't quite put my finger on it, but there is no fear in apologizing to him. I'm not afraid that he will take advantage of my vulnerability. There's no exploitation of weakness or manipulation. He just hears me, accepts me, forgives me, and all the while communicates love. He's not a push-over, he'll let me know if I've hurt his feelings. But he's not trying to shame me; he's just letting me know. And then, he just lets go. It's over, and he's already graced me with a fresh start. He's pretty amazing that way.
The other night Henry and I butt heads over a ridiculous issue (picking up toys...blahhhhh). I was overwhelmed and tired and the mole hills were looking a lot like mountains. I overreacted and hurt his feelings, and was completely in the wrong. He stormed upstairs and slammed his door all the while growling at me in frustration. I took a moment to breathe, followed him to his room, and stood in the doorway and said, "I'm sorry." And as he turned toward me, all the anger and tension seemed to melt away and all that was standing before me was a sad little boy with tears in his eyes. And it occurred to me that when I said, "I'm sorry," he heard, "I love you," and that was all he needed to be able to let go of all the other stuff.
How does he do that? I wish it were that effortless for me.
But it's not, because sometimes I feel like forgiving someone is the same as condoning the transgression and this fierce sense of justice rears it's ugly head at the notion of this. Maybe it's confusing because my canned reply to an apology is, "That's okay". But sometimes every fiber in my being is screaming, "No, it is not okay." What happened is not "okay". It is anything but "okay".
I know that's not what forgiveness is all about - justice and injustice, right and wrong. And even if it were, maybe all wrongs don't need to be righted; maybe some wrongs are beyond our limited abilities to make it right again. Maybe those wrongs can only be righted by the beautiful mystery of grace and then there will be room for forgiveness. Some days I think I'm there. I feel at peace and I can let go of those hurts. But other days I can get so caught up in the injustice of it all and forgiveness feels so out of reach. But I long for it... because I'm hoping that forgiveness is the end result of healing and restoration. I'm hoping that with forgiveness comes peace and freedom. Freedom from all the angst and bitterness; freedom to breathe in deep, and like Henry, freedom to be graced with a fresh new start.
There is something so healing in apologizing to Henry. I can't quite put my finger on it, but there is no fear in apologizing to him. I'm not afraid that he will take advantage of my vulnerability. There's no exploitation of weakness or manipulation. He just hears me, accepts me, forgives me, and all the while communicates love. He's not a push-over, he'll let me know if I've hurt his feelings. But he's not trying to shame me; he's just letting me know. And then, he just lets go. It's over, and he's already graced me with a fresh start. He's pretty amazing that way.
The other night Henry and I butt heads over a ridiculous issue (picking up toys...blahhhhh). I was overwhelmed and tired and the mole hills were looking a lot like mountains. I overreacted and hurt his feelings, and was completely in the wrong. He stormed upstairs and slammed his door all the while growling at me in frustration. I took a moment to breathe, followed him to his room, and stood in the doorway and said, "I'm sorry." And as he turned toward me, all the anger and tension seemed to melt away and all that was standing before me was a sad little boy with tears in his eyes. And it occurred to me that when I said, "I'm sorry," he heard, "I love you," and that was all he needed to be able to let go of all the other stuff.
How does he do that? I wish it were that effortless for me.
But it's not, because sometimes I feel like forgiving someone is the same as condoning the transgression and this fierce sense of justice rears it's ugly head at the notion of this. Maybe it's confusing because my canned reply to an apology is, "That's okay". But sometimes every fiber in my being is screaming, "No, it is not okay." What happened is not "okay". It is anything but "okay".
I know that's not what forgiveness is all about - justice and injustice, right and wrong. And even if it were, maybe all wrongs don't need to be righted; maybe some wrongs are beyond our limited abilities to make it right again. Maybe those wrongs can only be righted by the beautiful mystery of grace and then there will be room for forgiveness. Some days I think I'm there. I feel at peace and I can let go of those hurts. But other days I can get so caught up in the injustice of it all and forgiveness feels so out of reach. But I long for it... because I'm hoping that forgiveness is the end result of healing and restoration. I'm hoping that with forgiveness comes peace and freedom. Freedom from all the angst and bitterness; freedom to breathe in deep, and like Henry, freedom to be graced with a fresh new start.
My brother shared this post on his FB page and the response has been really incredible. Thanks everyone for reading... I love writing, it helps so much. And everyone is so supportive, it's really humbling. Thanks again for reading - more to come as the journey continues :)
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