Opinions expressed in this piece are solely those of the author.
We found each other at a baseball game. Her one-and-only was playing Peewee Little League with my last-but-not-least. And just like that, we were friends.
The boys kept playing ball. They kept growing up, and we mothers continued being friends. One day, we took the hooligans for the best homemade pretzels on this green planet. As I held a double-dipped-in-butter confection, baptizing it in cheese, she began. “I have an exciting story to tell. This morning, she called me. I’ve been waiting for that phone call.”
I kept dunking and nibbling, licking salt and butter from my fingers. In Mandarin, it translates to “heavenly manna.”
“About 2-1/2 years ago, my husband was unfaithful.” Oh. Yes. I had forgotten this part of her story. She’d only mentioned it once. She’d never brought it up again, which is why I had forgotten it.
“She apologized to me and asked for my forgiveness.” To the left of us, our boys were a batch of hot worms. Game pieces dropped and clattered on the long, wooden table. Someone began a chase, and we squelched it.
“I forgave her (long ago), but I wanted to hear that apology. My husband had already apologized to both families.”
I watched her face and her eyes intently. There was no bitterness. No anger. Her countenance was full of peace.
“I thought to myself, ‘She is living under guilt and shame. I am only living with anger.’” Huh. I’d never thought of it like that.
She continued. “I thought, ‘Which would I rather be living under, guilt and shame or anger? I decided I would rather live with the anger because I can set that aside.
“They say you don’t forgive for the other person. You forgive for yourself. But I think…maybe unforgiveness on my part could hold her back? I wanted her to be free to move forward. I thought, ‘What if it had been me? What would I want?’”
I knew what she was saying. Would she want mercy and grace, or rage and revenge? I could clearly see what her choice was. She’d chosen the former.
“She told me that she woke up today and thought, ‘Today is the day.’” And she made the call that my friend had been waiting many months to hear. “I told her, ‘I wish I could give you a hug.’”
Her story was finished. I sat, speechless in the face of such character and love.
Forgiveness is one of the hardest things a human can do. When injustices happen, the heart quails and rages, unwilling to move from that place of heat and fury. This is necessary for a time.
Denial, you see, does not work. If we deny the bad, hard parts of our story, we deny something of ourselves. We are skipping over the truth, and truth denied will shift things askew. Truth is the only way to healing.
Often, victims are told they must “forgive and forget.” This is folly, an extra burden laid upon the back of those already struggling. For years, I grappled with this teaching. Try as I might, I could never seem to accomplish it. Even if I were willing to forgive, I couldn’t erase from my mind what had happened, and so I carried mountains of guilt. Now, at long last, this is where I’ve arrived.
The admonition to “forgive and forget” isn’t possible or reasonable. Our brains are crafted with neural pathways and delicate wiring. We can’t erase our memories like swiping a magnet over a hard drive. Trauma and abuse change the actual wiring of the brain. Forgetting isn’t possible. And that’s good (more later).
The admonition to “forgive and forget” demands something from a victim that God himself isn’t asking. This is cruel. It’s a form of manipulation, and it hurts everyone involved.
Pressuring someone to “forgive and forget” can prevent the necessary work of justice in the offender’s life. Some of God’s greatest mercies are the most severe, and they often come shaped like stop signs. Allowing an offender to continue offending isn’t proof of forgiveness. It’s a hellish perversion equating forgiveness with trust, and it has, I fear, driven many from the faith.
So why is it okay, even good, to choose to “forgive and remember” instead of “forgive and forget?” Here’s why. When I “forgive and remember,” it sets me free. I can embrace my life and my story without shame. It lets me process what happened. Then I can move on without the baggage I’d hold if I simply stuffed it down.
When I “forgive and remember,” it rewires my brain. It re-establishes that close, emotional attachment to God and others. This happens because I’ve invited God into my story. His presence in my life and his loving work have “redeemed my life from destruction.” Or that’s how the shepherd boy said it, and I agree.
When I “forgive and remember,” I’m celebrating the love that redeems even the worst and hardest things. I celebrate where I am now and who’s helped me.
When I “forgive and remember,” my story becomes a survival guide for fellow travelers. A road map. A rope thrown with love to the drowning.
Forgiveness doesn’t mean we’re letting an offender off the hook. Rather, we are moving him or her onto the divine hook, and the power of this is immense. Holding bitterness keeps us tethered to those who’ve hurt us. Alone, it doesn’t equate to reconciliation or negate the need for wide boundaries. It simply lets us walk free.
To be sure, forgiveness is not a one-and-done, and it doesn’t come right away. It can take many years, and that’s okay. As I often tell my sons, “We just keep practicing.” Like everything else, it gets easier with time.
To every heart fighting to forgive, keep practicing. You don’t have to master it today. Just keep going. Little by little, you’ll feel a release, a lightness and hope returning to your body and mind.
You really will. I believe it.
To hear America’s small, caffeinated mom discuss the topic of forgiveness on the air with James Golden, aka Bo Snerdley, tune in to 77 WABC on Saturday morning or catch the podcast post show on all major platforms.