Ignorant

I didn’t start out my life knowing much about forgiveness. But, while in the second grade, as part of my religious upbringing, my peers and I made our first confession. First confessions were mandatory before we made our first communion. Both were requirements of my family and the church. 

Though catechism classes trained me to know what to say once I knelt down inside the confessional; “Bless me father for I have sinned and this is my first confession,” my catechism class did not prepare me for what I was supposed to confess as a sin. 

Consequently, on the day of my first confession, when asked by the priest to confess my sins, I could not think of anything that I’d done wrong. So, I made something up. The priest then absolved me of my made up sins, blessed me and told me to say three Hail Mary’s as penance. 

Leaving the confessional that day, I felt more guilty than forgiven. I’d lied to a priest about my sins. Would saying three Hail Mary’s absolve me of the sin I did not confess?  Would the three Hail Mary’s absolve me of the sins I’d confessed, but hadn’t really done?

To say the least, I was an ignorant kid when it came to the intricacies of forgiveness.

Growing In Knowledge

True knowledge of forgiveness did not come to me until much later in life and it came by way of resentment. 

At the time my father ended his life by suicide, I was thirteen. At eighteen, I left home. But not once, while living at home for those five years, did Mom admit that Dad had ended his life by suicide. Not once had she sat down and offered me any guidelines for my grief. There were no words of comfort or wisdom. Dad had died and that was it. 

As a result, the emotions I felt after my father’s death only grew more intense the older I got. By the time I married and started my own family, I’d grown into a resentful woman. 

At times, all I could think about was Dad’s suicide, Mom’s silence and my anger. But, neither Mom or Dad were there to take my anger out on. Instead, my disappointment, discontentment, and dissatisfaction with life bled all over my husband and sons. 

I knew that these resentful feelings were not right, but I didn’t know how to make myself not feel resentment. 

As an adult, I’d replaced priests, catechism and the confessional with a personal relationship with Jesus, reading the Bible and prayer. Consequently, I prayed to God and asked for wisdom. In time, that prayer was answered with one word; forgive. 

With a little help from a friend, I understood why forgiving my parents would resolve my issue with resentment. 

Forgiveness means letting go of what I’d expected from Mom and Dad. Forgiveness means they no longer owe me what I thought they owed me; a happy life. Forgiveness means reframing my thoughts about them. They didn’t fail me. They did the best they could do for me. 

Why Bother?

Why bother being grateful for forgiveness? Though I did not start out my life knowing much about forgiveness, I’m grateful that I now know. Forgiveness absolves us  from resentment.