We hurt from out of our own hurt.
I was reminded of this recently after contact with “Vanessa,” the daughter of a former girlfriend from the time before I met my wife. I had asked Vanessa over social media for the mailing address of her brother “Jon,” so I could send him a birthday card.
She gave me Jon’s address, then added: “I…apologize for the terribly mean teenager I was. I can assure you I’m not that young girl you once knew. She was hurting inside a lot. I’m sorry you got the bad side of her. I ask for your forgiveness.”
At the time, Vanessa’s parents’ marriage had broken up, she missed her Dad, and didn’t mind splitting her Mom’s attention with her brother, but I was clearly a non-essential element in the mix. The way she expressed her displeasure was nothing truly serious on the scale of teenage rebellion—but I must admit it could hurt.
For instance, before I came along, she was accustomed to sitting in the front seat of her Mom’s car. Now, when we would all travel together, she would attempt to pre-emptively claim the front seat by declaring, “I call shotgun!”
Her Mom was having none of that, and Vanessa would have to sit in the backseat with her brother. She wasn’t very happy about this, but she respected her mother, and after a couple of increasingly weak protestations, she’d let the matter drop.
Over the years, Vanessa was gradually pulled out of her hurt by the love of a good husband, and her mother’s prayers.
Back in the present: I accepted her apology, but felt unworthy. Hadn’t my own daughter also suffered through a parental marriage break-up? Distracted by my own problems and insecurities, I hadn’t always been there for her as a father should be.
In a very real sense, I didn’t “deserve” Vanessa’s forgiveness, any more than Peter “deserved” to have his feet washed by the Lord. However, the Lord made it abundantly clear that Peter had to accept this gift, “Unless I wash you, you will have no inheritance with me,” before offering it to others, “…as I have done for you, you should also do.” (John 13:8-15)
As well, even though I felt unworthy, I was also touched by Vanessa’s genuine, unforced blessing. I’d been in contact with her a couple of times of the years, and already I sensed her attitude toward me had changed, though we hadn’t spoken of it specifically. It was amazing to me what a few words could do—how the past was instantly different somehow, any lingering hurt blessed into oblivion.
At the same time, I recognize that oftentimes reconciliation for myself and others can be a much trickier situation. It may be no longer possible, or even advisable—to attempt forgiveness directly. We may have no clue as to someone’s whereabouts, the person could have passed on…or the feelings may simply be too intense. Prayer and/or confession can help a lot.
Also, one way to reduce the need for forgiveness is by reducing sources of regret before they build up in the first place. For instance, there are people who were important blessings to me at different junctures in my life, and to whom I bear a silent gratitude. Perhaps I shouldn’t be quite so silent.
I might have the person’s phone number or e-mail, but for one reason or another I haven’t reached for the phone or pointed the cursor.
Instead of keeping these relationships as pleasant memories, maybe I’m being called to re-connect and make them more present memories?
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Paul Thomas Moore is a Catholic commentator and singer-songwriter. He and wife Marilou attend St. Mary of Lourdes in Germantown Hills, Illinois. Write to him at [email protected]