Litany of Forgiveness

Hello Ladies,

If you have been following my blog you have noticed that I talk a fair bit about forgiveness. It's because I'm really bad at it. Or, should I say, I'm really bad at the 'forgive and forget' attitude. I don't believe that bad things happen 'to help us grow' or because they are 'God's will'. Sometimes people decide to hurt others. Sometimes people just don't care about the consequences of their actions. Some people are, to put it politely, jerks. And in no way are some of their actions ok. Sometimes it is not a question of misunderstanding. Some actions are truly evil. God did not put them in our path. God does not condone them. We do not deserve them. But still, bad things happen to good people. Or, in my case, a mediocre person.

And yet, we are called to forgive. WHY???  It is not enough for me to hear 'forgive so you will be forgiven'. I simply don't like myself that much. There are a whole host of things I have not forgiven myself for. Nor do I believe that I should be forgiven. (No, nothing dire. Just for part of my life I was a bit of a bitch. I didn't want to be but looking back there is no other word to describe me.)

So if I'm not willing to change on my own account, why should I change at all?

Because I love Jesus. There you go - I have become a Jesus freak!

Let me explain the only way I can understand forgiveness. When Jesus was in the garden of Gethsemane, he did NOT want to suffer and die. He really struggled with this one. But listen carefully: He did NOT say that his feelings and fear did not matter. He did NOT say that he 'deserved it'.  Jesus did NOT squash his feelings, pretending that they were wrong or bad. Instead, he placed them in the hands of God. Jesus accepted torture and death because he asked God if it was truly His will. I wonder how many of us do that?

When Jesus died, he forgave his attackers. He was innocent. He knew he was innocent. And yet he went to his death like a lamb going to slaughter. He forgave them because "they know not what they do".  Jesus took the time to discern God's will. In so doing he discovered that it is God's will that we should be more God-like. God is forgiving. We must be forgiving.

This was a total a-ha! moment for me. Instead of believing that my feelings don't matter, that I'm some sort of cosmic punching bag existing so that others could learn their lessons, I realize that God wants me to be more like Him!! What a difference!!

Forgiveness is a process. It's not an act of will. It begins with gratitude for the mercy God has shown me. With that gratitude comes the desire to live the life God wishes for me. And believe me, God has a lot more compassion towards me than I do for myself. So I spend time with God. If a situation really brings me down then I ask God if the situation needs to change or if I need to change. Probably both. Because really, even if I behave properly, my thoughts can be rather snarky. Again, not what God wants for me.

But how can I let go? A pries, Fr. William,  taught this in a homily the other week. I call it the litany of forgiveness.

Think of the person/ situation that needs healing. Include yourself.

Speak the following words:

I have wronged you.

I'm sorry.

I love you.

Please forgive me.

Now I know it's hard when a certain person has intentionally hurt you or somebody that you love. They were wrong! It's also easy for me to let my anger for another affect my relationship with God.  Yet I firmly believe true forgiveness is like relinquishing a rotten apple in order to enter a feast. We are called to be more like God.

There have been times these past few weeks when I've literally stopped what I was doing, bowed my head, and recited this litany in my heart. (My husband thinks I'm slightly nuts when I do this but he's used to me being slightly nuts.) And you know what? I feel better after saying it. I feel a tiny bit of healing. The warm feeling might last only a few moments but it's a few moments without bitterness. It also keeps my anger and feelings of inadequacy from spilling over to my husband and children. Mostly though, I feel loved when I say this. Yes, loved. Because I feel like I'm participating in something beautiful and divine.

May God Continue to Bless You!!

One of Those Days- kenosis

Dear Ladies,

Have you ever had one of those days when you wake up angry? When you resent having to get breakfast for the kids and change the baby's diaper? You know you should be grateful for all of your blessings but you don't and that makes you feel even worse...

Tonight I want to go to adoration but if I do then the kitchen won't be cleaned and I'll be totally unprepared for tomorrow. It's easy to say that things will work out when you're not responsible for getting the tedious details of life done. So I have the desire to take care of myself spiritually but I have to weigh that against the physical need for sleep. It's all so unfair. How can it be so hard to have a half hour alone with the Lord?

Yes, this is exactly how I feel now. It's not nice. It's not joyful. I'm not beaming with pride or personal fulfillment. I just feel tired and worn out. And alone. And yes, angry. I would give anything for a call from a friend right now (as long as she wouldn't mind talking while I clean the kitchen). These feelings are normal. They're honest. Feeling this way doesn't make me a bad person. God knows I'm weak.

How do you know when you give too much? When you cannot give joyfully. What do you do when you cannot give joyfully but still have to give more? Invite Jesus into your kitchen and talk to him while you clean. Some of my best prayer time happens when I'm washing dishes or folding laundry. Usually I say things like: "You know I'm doing this for You, right? I mean, I don't take any particular pleasure in cleaning the same cup for the fifth time in one day. The night is lovely and I would much prefer to be going for a walk. But am I? No! I must love You and my family a whole heck of a lot to put up with this!" Okay, so it's juvenile. But it beats saying: "I cannot believe how ungrateful my family is. I feel so powerless and unappreciated. If I go out this late then I'll really regret it in the morning. How fair is that??"

I added the word 'kenosis' to the title. Kenosis is emptying one's self so that God may enter. It doesn't mean that our own thoughts aren't important. Our thoughts are so powerful that they can invite in or shut out the grace of God. Our thoughts are crucial. We must use them wisely. So instead of feeling sorry for myself, or stuff my emotions into a corner and pretend that they are unworthy of notice, I'm going to clean the kitchen and know that I'm doing it for love of Him and my family.

Life is hard. No matter who you are or what you do - it's hard. Whether you have one child or a dozen -  it's hard. It's so easy to believe that others have it better than you. They don't. We still have to finish the tedious details of everyday life. They're not sexy or fun. But they need to be done. And we can invite God to join us or we can shut Him out. I've done it both ways and I prefer the former. My way might be a little bit messy - but so is my kitchen.

May God continue to bless you.

The Joy of Humility

Dear Ladies,

The joy of humility is acknowledging your own insignificance and knowing that you are loved, cherished, adored and indespenseble anyway.

May God continue to bless you.

Why We Do It.

Hello Ladies,

These last few days I've been working on a post that is really, really angry. I make some good points in it. It's about isolation. It's about constant interruptions. It's about not being able to finish a sentence, go to the toilet by yourself, and not being able to get a child to go to bed. This is the stuff of early motherhood is made of. It is real. It is frustrating. And happily, it's not what this post is about.

You see, moms don't do it for the money or the glory. We do it because it is in front of us. If we do it with great love then we can get by. We can also do the same tasks feeling defeated, bitter, and covetous. Some mothers don't do it at all and the children are physically and/ or emotionally neglected. But when we do change that diaper, we never, ever do it for ourselves.

So why do we do it?

Today I took my girls to visit my dad. My dad is now totally bed and wheelchair bound. He is now confined to his bed for several weeks (except for doctor's appointments) due to sores on his bottom. He has to use a bed pan. I am typing with tears in my eyes. My mother died before my children were born so I know that as awful as it is to see my father this way, at least he is with us. Was he lying there feeling sorry for himself? Was he bitter because I have a future in this life and his is winding down? No. He lay there, helpless, with sores on his bottom, a model of integrity.

He spoke to me about how the picture a my 8th grade teacher took of us dancing during the Valentine's Day dance at school. I was picked on in the 8th grade. When I saw that picture posted on the classroom wall I thought it would fuel more bullying. Instead the other girls were jealous.Their dads never danced with them. I got a copy of that picture, put it in a cheap frame and gave it to my dad for Christmas. He still treasures it - cheap frame and all.

He told me that my daughters (and son) are beautiful - they look like their mother. (For the record they look like my husband's side of the family.)

When I complained that my youngest daughter had been fussy and only wanted mama, he laughed and told me it was because I was doing such a great job. He told me it was a sign of trust.

He thanked me for raising his grandchildren with love and discipline.

He thanked me for bringing the children over.

When I had to leave (the baby was fussy) he told me that it was my job to take care of my children, not to worry about him. Right now my children are safe in bed. I worry about my dad.

I love my dad. He's awesome.

Writing all this, I realize that it's easier to do those silent, hidden, tedious tasks set before me with great love because I am loved. I also have someone whom I adore who believes in me.

One day, sooner or later, my father will die. My mother, with all of her problems, died, if not at peace, then in hope. I believe that she is now in heaven.

Ladies, we all come from God's imagining. Our potential is greater than we can ever comprehend. We are born. We are broken. We are scattered. If we are very lucky, our lives become a love song, sung in harmony with those who have dared to sing since the dawn of humanity. Maybe the tune will continue without our voices, but the result will be greatly diminished. We are unique. We are important. We are a single thought given form and freedom to become greater in our capacity to love.

When I held my son for the first time I stopped seeking knowledge and began seeking wisdom.

It isn't that my children deserve "the best". They deserve the best from me. And my father, in his helpless, childlike state, knows that the only thing to regret is that which we failed to do for others with great love. That and not being able to play on the ground with the grandkids. But now I'm crying again.

May God continue to bless you.

A Question for My Readers

Hello Ladies,

To date my blog has been more of a ramble than anything organized. Sometimes I think this is a huge failing. To this end I am working on a systematic theology for mothers based on Pope John Paul II theology of the body, Marian theology, Blessed (Mother) Teresa of Calcutta, and various mystics.

If there is any questions, theological or otherwise, you wish to have addressed please do not hesitate to let me know.

Sincerely,

Theology Mom

Forgiveness

Hello Ladies,

Lately I have been thinking about forgiveness. A lot.

As you might already know, an elder of my family was dying at the time of the birth of my youngest daughter. Did the prospect of new life bring her joy? No. She told the entire family and anybody who would listen that this child should NOT be born. She told anybody who would listen that we should only have two children. She told everybody that I felt trapped by my pregnancy and that I did not want, that I even resented, the child.

Ladies, sometimes I look at my youngest baby and want to cry at the cruelty of her words. How this woman could even think those things, much less utter them? And who in their right minds would believe them?? This is the sort of slander that this woman had been spreading for years before her death. I don't know what angers me more - that she said them or that people choose to believe it.

My husband and I are still dealing with what this woman said. Relationships within the family have been broken. Horrible accusations and insults have been met with stony silence. What should be a strong family is now fragmented. (And people still believe that I don't love my child. The bastards!!)

And of course we are right. We are the reasonable ones.

Which is why I have a hard time forgiving. No, I simply can't forgive.

Growing up, I remember watching silly television shows where every problem is neatly and humorously dealt with in a half hour. Injuries were caused by misunderstandings, not by spite. But spite DOES exist and we do deal with people who couldn't care less about reconciliation.

So now I believe that this 'forgive and forget' thing is just a load of crap perpetuated by people who don't want to deal with the real issues and want to go on as if nothing had happened.

What I DO believe in is the transformative love of God. Let me explain. I don't think we can 'forgive and forget' because we approach forgiveness as an act of will, not of healing or transformation. I simply cannot will myself to pretend that what happened didn't happen. I cannot pretend that I am not hurt by it. I will never say that on some level what happened was good, right, a misunderstanding, or acceptable. And I will not try to see things from the point of view of a bitter woman who died as a direct result of her addictions.

What can I do? I can pray. First I flung my anger at God and asked for deliverance from it. Then I began to pray for those who wronged me. I didn't pray for any particular outcome, just that they should know the love and grace of God. I prayed for myself. I poured forth my anguish at the harm that this slander did (and continues to) inflict. And one day, God answered:

"Yes, it was wrong. No, you did not deserve it. Yes, it hurt you. But I was with you. I am still with you. Please, come to me and be healed."

Well.

Ladies, I do not believe that we can forgive. But I do believe that God can share His vision with us. I may or may not be right in this situation. I may or may not be justified in my anger. But I will not be a victim of slander. If God wants me to let go of this so I may be a part, however small, of His beatific vision, I will let go. And when I see my misguided relatives again, with practice, I can allow God's love and forgiveness to flow through me. I am small, formed of dust and Breath. That is the best I can do.

May God continue to bless you.

"Offering It Up"

Hello Ladies,

Today I have learned a very important lesson: Sometimes things just suck. There is no other way of describing it. Sometimes you cannot plaster a manic smile on your face and pretend that things are 'just fine' because you have faith in God. Sometimes bad things happen that you did not bring on yourself and that you can do nothing to change.

As a child, my father would often tell me to "offer it up". Um, what? Excuse me? What on earth does that mean? I could never figure it out and my dad could never explain. To me, it sounded too much like saying things were ok when they weren't. Or having to suffer with things that should be dealt with.

Today I finally figured out what my dad has been trying to teach me all these years.

This morning I received a dreaded text: Dad fell. He's going to the ER and either everything will be fine (meaning he miraculously broke nothing) or, more likely, something is broken and because of his age and health there will be nothing they can do. We have known for years that he would not be able to survive another (yes, another) serious fall. What to do?

What I wanted to do was panic (which I probably did). I wanted to rush to the ER just in case. But it just wasn't feasible to rush to the hospital with three young children in tow. (My son has a fever, no less.) So I prayed. I prayed for my dad's safety. I dared pray for the miracle that my dad managed to be unharmed. And I prayed that God lead me to where He needed me.

I offered up my desires and fears. I told God that I would do what He wanted if He took care of the things that I could not handle.

Because, Ladies, as mothers, our lives are no longer our own. And sometimes we need a little extra help and wisdom to do the task in front of us with great love.

So I stayed home. I tended my sick child with great love. I put the baby down for a nap with great love. And I waited for my brother to call me from the hospital. And I prayed that God give me strength to face what was happening. Through prayer, I did not resent the mundane tasks set for me. Through prayer, I trusted God in His wisdom.

I offered it up. And I did not suppress my feeling and pretend that they were wrong or did not exist.

I offered it up. And I was not powerless.

I offered it up. And I found the peace that only God can give.

And my prayers were answered. Somehow, though my father is old and feeble, he did not break. The doctors were amazed. They used words like 'lucky' and 'amazed'  several times. They shook their heads and smiled. I was able to see my dad at home this evening and not in the hospital. There is relief and joy in our family.

More than anything I am grateful that I can tell my dad that I finally understand what he's been talking about all these years. Would you believe that I was so happy to see him that I forgot to mention it?

May your day be as blessed as mine has been.