Since I am not able to get on the boards as much these days, I will be posting updates here for the time being...

We are now 8 minutes into 2009, and I find myself aching to express what this past year has meant to me, but unable to find adequate words.  As I write this, the greatest blessing of 2008...indeed, of my life...is curled up sleeping, and I am reminded that whatever 2008 brought me, he was worth every bit of it. 

I remember New Year's Eve last year.  I was so aching for 2008 to bring great changes. I thought those changes would come if I moved away...far away.  I remember sharing with my family that I wanted to move to Portland, Oregon and be part of "Imago Dei" there. I remember telling them that, before 2008 drew to a close, I would be gone.  Of course, my desire to move was not so much about the move as it was about a desire for change. 2007 had been brutal to me, and much of that carried into the early days of 2008. I needed to start over, somehow.

I won't recap my entire story. Most of you know how 2008 played out for me.  It was a rough year, to be sure, but also the year that gave me the greatest rewards.  My faith was challenged, and changed. I discovered a deep well of personal strength that I never realized I had, and it helped me overcome tremendous obstacles.  I learned about love...what it is, and what it isn't. I learned the value of community, and the meaning of true friendship that stays with you regardless of the storms it may weather.  Painfully, I learned who my friends are, and which of those I thought of as friends are really just some nice people I happen to know.  I learned about God's endless resources and His miraculous provision for my every need. I learned about making the hard choices, and sticking with them even though they are frightening.

As 2008 drew to a close, I was given one final gift. My son came into the world on December 27, a way of saying that, no matter what else may have happened, God's plan truly is to prosper us and not to harm us, to give us hope and a future. My son is a symbol of that hopeful future.  He is the greatest joy I have ever known, and is indeed the greatest blessing of my life. My son does not fear the future.  He trusts me to provide for him and protect him, and never doubts that I will. He trusts me to hear him when he calls.  Such simple lessons. My son has already taught me much. 

I never imagine this kind of love.  The love I have for this child is like nothing I have ever known before, and I feel it so intensely sometimes that I can hardly contain it.  He is a miracle. He is a blessing.  He is an answer to prayer, God's gift to me.  This gift was the perfect way to wrap up a year that has been wrought with trials, heartaches, broken dreams, and yet...in the midst of it...unspeakable joy.  For this reason, 2008 was the best year I've yet seen, and it gives me great hope for 2009.

 I have been thinking a lot about forgiveness in the last few weeks.  In particular, I’ve been thinking about how hard it is to do.  To forgive goes entirely against the grain of our most basic elements of human nature.  We want vengeance. We want retribution.  We want the person or people who have hurt us to know that they hurt us, and to feel a measure of our pain.  We don’t want to forgive. We want “justice”. 

 Yet, forgiveness is also a crucial element to our own health and well-being.  When I choose not to forgive, I cease to grow and thrive.  I cease to be an open recipient of God’s grace, and I stop being a vessel He can use for His purposes.  An inability or unwillingness to forgive is in all ways paralyzing to my own existence.

 As I get closer to the day I will give birth to my son, I find myself wrestling with memories of his father.  I remember the cruel words spoken to me.  I remember being referred to as an “f---ing invalid”. I remember the constant comparisons to his ex-girlfriends and his ex-wife, and how I never measured up favorably.  I remember when he told me that he sees marriage as a “legal and binding contract” and that he now had rights to every aspect of my life, and my privacy and identity as an individual was no longer valid. I remember that I was no longer in any way my own person, and I was reminded of that every day, in a multitude of ways.  I remember the yelling. I remember the anger. I remember being treated terribly by a man who would, in literally the next breath, tell me he loved me. I remember being treated as though I was the one with the problem if I saw anything wrong with any of this.

 When these thoughts come to mind, my immediate reaction is to desire some sort of vengeance.  I want him to hurt, because he hurt me. I want him to experience something that will let him know that nothing he did to me was in any way right, and will expose him for what he is in the eyes of those who are seeing him as a victim.  I want…anything but to forgive.

 I guess that, when thinking of things like this, it feels like “forgiveness” is a way of saying, “I’m letting you off the hook.”   It is a way of letting the person who so deeply hurt me, get away with hurting me. 

 I read “The Shack” this past summer, and it was very difficult to read.  God’s love for everyone, His grace extended toward everyone, His forgiveness of everyone, and His desire to redeem everyone are overarching themes throughout the book. As I read it, I remember thinking….but what about HIM??? Is God saying, then, that what he did to me is okay? Is He saying I have no right to feel hurt or angry or to want some sort of retribution for what happened? Is He saying that my ex’s façade of being an innocent victim of horrible circumstances is acceptable? Is He saying…well, what is He saying?

 Of course, “The Shack” is a work of fiction, but it does present some very big, very real questions regarding what we are to do with deep wounds we have suffered at the hands of another individual.  As I read the book, I can’t say there was one bit of it that went down easily for me.  Yet, it did illuminate some aspects of forgiveness that have become helpful to me.  That is not to say I don’t struggle with it anymore, but it is easier.

 First, I understand…or, I’m coming to understand…that forgiving someone does not mean that what they did to me was right, or that I’m letting them off the hook for doing it. It means that I am not going to hold their feet to the fire anymore.  It means that I am not going to seek retribution. I am not going to attempt to collect from them whatever debt I may believe they owe to me. 

 As I struggle with forgiving my ex, I can hear God saying, “Give him to Me.”  What God does with him beyond that point is not my concern.  The things in my ex’s heart that lead him to do what he did to me, and others, are far too big for me to tackle.  There is truly nothing I could ever do that would bring to him the ability to understand what he did to me, or to care. Withholding forgiveness from him would do nothing but perpetuate my own unhappiness regarding this situation.

 I also understand that forgiveness does not happen in one fell swoop.  I have known this for awhile, but it is really hitting home now.  It is beyond my ability to look at the entire relationship and say that I forgive my ex for everything he ever said or did that left these lasting wounds. What I can do, though, is forgive little by little, with every memory that comes to mind.  When painful memories surface…which they do more and more lately…I repeat, “I forgive you” until the thirst for retribution passes for the moment.  That urge will come back, with another painful memory, and I will repeat the process again.

 I am not sure that absolute forgiveness ever happens.  At this point, I cannot imagine that the day will come when I will be able to think of my ex without feeling any desire at all for some kind of retribution.  I have made the choice not to vilify my ex in my son’s eyes.  As he gets older, he will probably have questions about his father, and he may even someday want to establish some kind of relationship with him. Should that day come, I know that my son will see his father for who he is, and that there are conclusions about his father that he will eventually need to come to on his own. 

Still, even with the commitment to remain as positive, or at least as neutral, as possible in terms of how I discuss my son’s father with him, it is hard to imagine that I may someday be able to discuss him with some empathy and compassion, rather than feelings of contempt.  It is hard to believe that, someday, uttering “I forgive you” will not simply be words I am saying in hopes of giving them meaning, but they will be words of truth.

I wish it was an easier process, though.