The Fragrance of Violets
“Forgiveness is the fragrance that the violet sheds on
the heel that has crushed it.” (Mark Twain)
As we close the door on 2008 and step into 2009, I want to share some thoughts with you about one of the most difficult lessons of human life…forgiveness. Whether it is ourselves who need forgiveness or whether it is others we need to forgive, I doubt any human being will escape this world without encountering forgiveness. In the end, we are likely to discover everything we ever learned can be traced back to it.
I was listening, this morning, to an interview with Dr. Wayne Dyer and Oprah. He mentioned the quote I shared above by Twain. The words hold volumes of enlightenment for those who understand. As Dyer recalled his painful childhood, lived out in various orphanages when his alcoholic father abandoned his family, it is clear he has smelled the perfume of forgiveness.
There is a great irony in forgiving. We cannot learn what it is unless we have someone to forgive. As in all experiences on this earth, to know one requires knowing two. Understanding that puts a whole new perspective on those who came into our lives to offer us the opportunity to learn this, doesn’t it? Perhaps one day we will realize the love they had for us was the greatest of all. Those who need our forgiveness as well as those who must forgive us are required to take on the role of the enemy. No greater sacrifice is made in the name of love.
I have had numerous opportunities in my life to ask for forgiveness. I have also had many moments where I made the choice to forgive those who hurt me. Either way, the concept was the same…I had to let go of my ego’s need to be right. I had to get out of my story long enough to see through another’s perspective as best I could. The remarkable thing is, in doing so, I realized both parties came from a place of hurt. Both lashed out in hopes that the other would somehow intuitively know what to do or to say to right the undeserved wrong.
Nonetheless, as I have grown in understanding, I have come to see that both sides were nothing more than two different aspects of myself. I now recognize that all forgiveness is in the self…it is never about others. When I attacked another with angry and hate-filled words, my hope was that they would respond with understanding and love. When they returned ugly and unkind words, they expected me to realize my error. When neither got the response they anticipated, both turned away, pointing an accusing finger at one another. If the conversation goes no further, both parties suffer greatly. Sometimes it is anger. Other times it is hurt. Neither feels good and both harbor deep resentments. Today, when I catch myself wanting to point that finger toward another, I remember I am really pointing at myself. I was the one who drew that person into my life. I was the one who asked them to play the role they are playing. What is it I am to learn from them? If I review the incident from that perspective, everything is different. There is no blame…only an opportunity to see something in myself which had gone unseen prior to that moment.
One thing I’ve really come to know in my life…all of us want to be loved. If we can quiet our own pain-body long enough to look again, we can readily see both parties only did whatever they felt they had to do to protect themselves from more pain. I think this is especially difficult when asked of an adult who, as a child, experienced what they perceive to be mistreatment from one or both parents.
We put such high expectations on parents. We think of them as gods, and we leave them little room for error. We don’t want them to be merely human. Somehow, they are to magically know and meet all our needs. We insist they are perfect and we define that perfection through fantasies of what that would look like to us. They are to always put us first. Even as we become adults, we seem to expect more of them than we do of others. We want absolute acceptance and adoration, and when they slip from the pedestal, we sometimes cannot find it in our hearts to forgive.
Parents are supposed to love children unconditionally. And yet, unconditional love is all but impossible in this world. It requires no judgement. If you think about that, you will realize how much that is asking. We are programmed with beliefs, in early childhood, and we discern what is good and bad from those beliefs. But those are not even our own thoughts! Those are the beliefs of our parents and our teachers! What if our parents also had challenging childhoods? Would it not be unjust then to blame them for what they learned? So then, do we move the blame to our parents’ parents? Well, we have to ask again, “Where did they learn their beliefs?” You see, it is an endless chain of beliefs passed from one generation to the next. Rather than point accusing fingers at one another, maybe we can finally begin to understand everyone was simply doing the best they knew how.
Often, when we have our own children, we realize how much anger or hurt we’ve been holding towards our own parents. We cannot forgive them if they gave us anything less than our own ideas of what love should be. We wonder how they could have done such horrible things to an innocent child. I caution you…look again before making such judgements, because when you do this, you are not loving unconditionally, either. You did not walk in their shoes. You cannot see through their pain. You don’t know what was going on in that moment when they lashed out at you. Of course it is easy to look at it through your eyes–not feeling the emotions they were feeling, not knowing what pain they were living. But you will never, ever really know the “why” behind their actions, because it is impossible for you to know all they were feeling or experiencing at that time.
In my book, God Is I AM, I tell the story of my father’s passing. When he slipped out of this world and into another, my brother, my stepmother and I were at his side. I wrote:
As l looked around the room at the three people who were with him at the time of his passing, I realized that the three of us were the ones he had treated so badly, in all in his pain; and yet, here we were, trying to ease him from one consciousness into another. Our forgiveness did not have to be won. It happened because we all understood a hidden side of this man. He lived in fear. He projected his fear unto us, not because he didn’t love us, but because he didn’t know how to forgive himself.
For many years, I tortured myself with painful memories of my childhood. My father had never been there for me. In his eyes, I was invisible. The words, “I love you” were seldom heard. He had physically and emotionally abused most every member of our family. He never supported me. He always criticized me. In later years, he drank heavily, and ranted and cursed most everyone in sight. He was always, always angry. No matter how hard I tried…how much effort I put into being perfect…he never really saw me at all. I never knew what it felt like to have him be proud of me. I never got to sink into his arms, knowing he thought I hung the moon.
When my own children were born, I was overwhelmed with the love I felt toward them. I could not imagine how a parent could feel anything less. It made my childhood even more unbearable. If holding an innocent, pure baby did not melt the heart of my father, then he must have been even worse than I’d even imagined. For a long period of time, I held on to deep, deep anger and hurt. Then, as my children started growing up, and my marriage was in shambles, I lashed out at my own children. I said and did things I would later regret. Of course, I didn’t really mean them…I was coming from a place of desperation they would never be able to understand. I couldn’t tell them about the horrors of my adult life, so I kept it inside and let them hate me. To this day, I know they must remember times when I did this or that, and they most likely have not forgiven me. I’ve tried to explain, but I don’t think one can even begin to walk in another’s shoes. I can only hope they find it in their hearts to forgive me, just as I forgave my father.
It is never easy to hold onto unforgiveness. Doing so causes the stories to replay, again and again. Physical problems are often the result of holding onto anger and hurt. I, however, could simply not find it in my heart to forgive my father. He didn’t deserve it. One day, however, I realized not forgiving was hurting only me. My father was not affected at all. I took time out to consider what his life was like, as he was growing up. I knew he came from an abusive home…a broken home. I knew he suffered PTSD from World War II. I knew he was angry mostly at himself, but not knowing how to forgive himself, he projected outwardly onto those around him. He, too, was hurt and broken.
Marianne Williamson once said, “There is almost nothing we couldn’t forgive if we had enough information about the person we believe harmed us.” We cannot know all that was present in the moment we were harmed, but I can tell you this. More than likely, whatever they did, it was all they knew to do in that moment. They, too, hurt.
Holding my father’s hand, I looked down on the frail body of the man who never loved me as I had wished he would. He had lived his whole life in fear and anger. He was so afraid of death…of facing judgement for all the times he had judged others. He told me, time and again, “You have to promise me you’ll be there with me when I die.” I had no idea how I was going to keep that promise, and yet, I did. Now, watching him struggle to draw just one last breath, I could feel nothing but forgiveness. I finally understood what a great gift he had offered to me. He taught me what it means to forgive.
In forgiving, I was forgiven for having judged God as anything less than perfection. How could I have forgotten the Divine Intelligence behind my life? I had not lived one single moment without being loved! For every time I made a wrong turn, God had recalculated and sent new angels to guide me along a different path. No, I was never unloved. Never alone. In seeing the bigger picture, I finally understood how beautifully it all played out by my own design. When I asked to know how to forgive, one man stood up and offered to show me the way. He had loved me most of all. It was absolutely perfect.
As he eased from this life into something else, I wondered if my Daddy noticed the fragrance of violets that followed. I hope he forgave me, as well.
I AM…Jodi
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