Читать книгу The Forgiveness Solution - Philip H. Friedman - Страница 17

“What could you want [that] forgiveness cannot give? Do you want peace? Forgiveness offers it. Do you want happiness (consider that forgiveness offers it), a quiet mind (could forgiveness offer that too), a certainty of purpose, and a sense of worth and beauty that transcends the world? Do you want care (being cared after), safety, and the warmth of sure protection always? Do you want a quietness that cannot be disturbed, a gentleness that never can be hurt, a deep abiding comfort, and a rest so perfect it can never be upset? All this forgiveness offers you and more.”

—ROBERT PERRY, Return to the Heart of God

“The end result of all ‘unfair’ pain and suffering is burning hurt and resentments. You have carried these resentments for years…. To heal from them, you must forgive the individuals involved. Until you are willing and able to forgive fully, you weigh down your soul with these prisoners.”

—CAROLINE MYSS, Entering the Castle

THIS AND EVERY CHAPTER begins with a story. You will notice that I often provide no commentary for these stories. They are here to set the mood and offer hope. Let them just wash over you.

In his book The Code: Use the Laws of Manifestation to Achieve Your Highest Good, Tony Burroughs has Alan tell his forgiveness story:

When I first decided to serve others, I didn't realize that it also included forgiving them. I thought I would help them out by cleaning or running errands or doing whatever they wanted, but what I came to understand was that I could help them in other ways as well.

The instance that brought all this home to me was when I made an intention to help my aging mother. In 1998, I gave up my own apartment, moved in with my mom, and began to prepare her food, bathe her, and do all of the things necessary to make her last days as comfortable as possible. Up until then, I really hadn't made much of an effort to get close to her. She lived three states away, and we really didn't get along all that well anyway. In truth, there were long periods of time when we never spoke at all because I was still carrying a lot of anger toward her for things she'd done to me as a child. Mainly, I never understood how she could just stand by and let my father abuse me like he did.

But in the last few weeks of her life, as she lay in her deathbed with me sitting in the chair beside her, we began to talk about some of the things that we might not have otherwise spoken about. One particular evening after we finished eating and our barriers were lower than usual, I asked her why she let my dad beat me without ever coming to my rescue. Her answer showed me a side of her I never knew existed.

She explained that she was just as afraid of him as I was, that he beat her and threatened her too, and that he was always very careful not to let anyone else know about it. She was so sorry, she said, but at the time she was totally incapable of giving me the love I needed because she was in fear for her own safety.

She started to cry when she told me the details. I felt such compassion for her, laying there in her bed like that, waiting to die any day. But, most of all, I felt sorry because we'd never talked like this before. When her tears stopped, and as I was wiping them from her cheeks, she touched my arm with her frail hand and asked me to forgive her for not being a good mother. She said she really loved me, both then and now, and that it would mean a lot to her if I could find forgiveness in my heart for her.

I didn't move except to brush away the tears from my own eyes. Suddenly, a very emotional experience when I was a teenager came to mind. My mother was in a bad mood and had punished me for something I was innocent of. It was in that moment that I had decided, resolutely, to put her out of my life. Now, however, as I recalled that highly-charged event, I was able to see the unhappiness in her face that I didn't see before. I never knew she was that unhappy.

As my vision of the past receded, she looked up at me from her bed, our eyes met, and I told her that I forgave her, not just for that instance, but for everything uncaring she'd ever done to me. Then I leaned down to hug her, and as I did, it felt like a great weight was lifted from my chest. We both wept some more that night, and, after that, something shifted in me … and in her. From then on, until the time she passed away, she was much calmer and at peace. The way I see it, our forgiveness healed us both.

—ALAN MATOUSEK, Birmingham, AL