On Forgiveness

Mom grew up one of seven girls. A painful family situation with roots going back to a time long before I was born, a situation that still has an impact today, caused much dissension and turmoil among several of the sisters. One sister may have gone a long time without talking to another one. Such was the case between Mom and Aunt Sylvia. They once went twenty years without speaking to each other. As they aged, their hearts warmed up a bit, and the relationship started to heal. They talked regularly, and became quite cordial and caring.



Several years ago, Sylvia called Mom from the hospital. I'm not exactly sure what she was sick with. By that time, Mom was practically housebound. It seemed the relationship was still on good footing. Suddenly one day, another aunt called Mom, telling her that Sylvia no longer wanted to speak to her. None of my my siblings or I were to call or visit. Needless to say, Mom was heartbroken. She didn't know what she could have done to make Sylvia not want to speak to her, if Sylvia had actually said those things. No explanation was forthcoming.



A month later, Mom somehow found out that Sylvia had died. In fact she had been buried two weeks prior. Being the child furthest removed from the painful family situation, I visited the graveyard, the same graveyard my grandparents are buried in. I hadn't been there in many years. I drove around, looking for a familiar landmark. After a while, it was as if the Holy Spirit told me to stop. I did so, and got out of the car and just started walking, still looking for a familiar landmark.



The section of Baton Rouge where this graveyard is located once was a very nice part of town. Now, it's a downtrodden area. An ivy covered fence stood in the distance. A street separated the cemetery from the surrounding neighborhood, but nothing could block out the loud, scary screaming making its' way toward my ears. A little voice inside kept telling me I'd made a mistake by going there. "I'm gonna get shot! I'm gonna get shot! I just KNOW I'm gonna get shot!" As I got closer, the screaming became more audible. Someone had either a TV or a radio tuned to a religious channel and decided to share the preaching with the rest of the neighborhood. In a way I thought that preacher would wake the dead.



My fears soon calmed. The Holy Spirit spoke to me again. I stopped walking. On my right were the graves of Elvina and Thomas Amedee...my grandparents. On my left was a huge mound of clay. I looked down in front of me...down deep in front of me, into the hole that went six feet into the ground. That beige casket is still very vivid in my mind. Had I taken one more step, my 300+ lb body would have landed face first atop the coffin where my Aunt Sylvia's body rested! In that moment, I didn't think of any reason why the cemetery workers hadn't filled that hole two weeks after my aunt's funeral. I needed to see that casket! That casket was God's way of getting through to me when I needed Him to do so. If it had been true that Sylvia said what she had allegedly said..........and I say this not in judgment of her, but did she have an opportunity to confess that before she died? Did she bring that to her grave with her? Surprisingly to me, I felt no anger, either over the whole, wretched situation that had hurt so many over the years, or over the hurt of seeing my mother suffer because of what she was told. What I felt more was pity. In that moment I knew that regardless of my personal feelings, I wanted no one to suffer permanent separation from God for any reason. I prayed for all involved, living and deceased. There was some consolation, with God proving to me that I came to a place of forgiveness. By the same token, I felt deeply humbled, knowing that I too have wronged others and need to seek forgiveness also.



At some point I will die. Everyone who heard this story last night will die. And everyone reading this will die. Many of us will be in a casket six feet in the ground. The author of a very popular book that I'm reading right now reminds the reader that the time we're given on this side of death, 60, 70, 80, perhaps 100 years, is nothing compared to eternity. Is there anything on your soul that will determine where you spend eternity? Is there a resentment you struggle to let go of? I'd love it if I could tell my friends that I no longer have problems holding onto resentments, that forgiveness now comes easily for me. That would be far from the truth. I need your prayers, and I promise you mine. There is nothing, absolutely nothing, in this whole world that is worth holding onto. 



I hope my sharing these words helps at least one soul wanting to let go of something painful to do just that...let it go...