Learning To Forgive

We moved around a lot when I was growing up. Every year or two, we moved to a new city, and I went to a new school. Although I buried the fears related to moving, as I look back now, I realize I was often lonely. The worst move came in November of my senior year in high school. We had been in a suburb of Kansas City for a blissful two years. I was in a nice school, I had some friends and I was in love. We moved to the outskirts of Chicago, where I went to a not-very-nice school. I think it was before gangs, as we know them now, but I remember groups of guys with slicked-back hair and cigarettes rolled into their undershirt sleeves hanging around looking threatening. It was too late in the year for me to get into the college prep classes I would normally have been in, and I was in a bunch of classes like typing and health.

I realize now that I resented my dad making all those moves, especially that last one. I felt like my needs weren't important to him. A few years ago when I did a guided meditation on forgiveness, I recognized how much anger at my father I was carrying around. I could feel it in my chest like a lump of ice. I didn't see how I could ever forgive him. But I prayed to be able to.

Not long afterward, we visited my dad in Corpus Christi. When the visit was over, we were driving to the airport. I was in the back seat, Corky was driving and Dad was in the passenger seat. He started telling Corky about the time he was fired and he had left the family in Kansas City while he traveled around the country looking for a job. He had eventually been rehired by the same company, but only if we would move to Chicago. I suddenly realized that he was talking about that awful move in November of my senior year. But I didn't know he'd been fired! Did they not tell me? Or was I so wrapped up in my own misery that I blocked it out? I don't know. But I suddenly had a glimpse of how it all looked from his point of view - what the responsibility of feeding a family of five must be like.

As we flew off on the plane, I realized God had given me a way to begin the forgiveness, as I had asked. And I discovered my own need for forgiveness, too. I could feel the lump of anger starting to melt, and I cried and cried. You would think I would be glad to be rid of that lump, but it was a little scary. Who would I be without it?

I continue to find ways to forgive my father and (even harder) to forgive myself. But at least I know now that it is possible - with help. Thanks be to God.

— Nancy Searls

Courtesy of The Church of the Good Shepherd United Methodist