... As we forgive...

Before I start on this topic; Ron and I have actually been doing very well. This isn't really regarding him.

I feel it's important to practice forgiveness in my daily life. For one, I cannot forgive in my own power. Nope, like most of humanity, I am just a hater at heart. If I call any names - hater I think is the worst. *I* can't and don't want to forgive anyone!

Some people were actually not that difficult to forgive. I mean, I'd think I would still be battling. My mother - she drank while pregnant and maimed me for life. If I hadn't known her, hadn't seen her sob with regret everytime she had to say goodbye, if I didn't know, down to my soul, that she would have never chosen to hurt me; I'd still be hating her.

It's impossible for me to hate someone I see as a fell0w-victim. She was a slave to alcohol - she never got free. When she had finally gotten her life together she ended up watching her infant son die of an illness. I can't imagine the torment of watching him on all the machines, having to accept that he was dead. She could never shake loose of the alcohol after that - and unfortunately for my brain - I was NEXT, not previous.

God allowed her to apologize the night she died. I felt her spirit, saw her, as I slept. She came to me, radiating an absolute nova of love and regret. She asked my forgiveness for damaging me, and I knew in my soul she would have never chosen to hurt me. Of course I forgave her; and now I know she is comfortable in Jesus' arms. She knows I understand, on a cellular level, her love for me.

Another easy example is Thug Boy - the kid who mugged me several months ago. It would be easy to hate him, even easier to hate his entire race. After all, it was not a freckle-faced blonde kids who stole my lawnmower out of the garage with me watching, vandalized my home, attempted to steal my cell phone, did a drive-by BB gun shooting, and mugged me at the bus stop. Nope, they all fit a profile of ignorance.

I actually feel sorry for them. I mean, think of it. The whole culture they have is steeped in ignorance. My own husband, who grew up in what can only be termed a "ghetto", told me that kids were often beat up for "trying to act white" if they showed any love of learning and education. Read a book for pleasure? In the neighborhood? Not unless you wanted to be beaten.

They also have the whole "Baby's Father" concept, one I find absolutely abhorrent. It may be a very big deal to know the identity of your father. Do they have any positive memories of time spent with Dad? They probably didn't grow up, like I did, with Dad right there in the household working overtime to support his stay-at-home-wife. They didn't have relatives coming over and saying "Oh, look, you walk just like your father!" They may have just had a sucession of Mommy's lovers coming through. There's a good chance some of those kids don't know, or couldn't pick their fathers out of a lineup. That's awful. It is very difficult for any young man to grow up without a strong male role model in his life.

Compare that to my life. My parents read to me every night, and answered every question I had. I was only disciplined if I screwed up.

Now, Thug Boy had every opportunity in life. His teeth were white and straight, he'd obviously had expensive orthodontic work done. He was well-nourished and not a bad looking kid. He had healthy skin, expensive clothes, and sneakers that cost me a week's pay. His "associate" was even better dressed and they had a getaway car.

I don't have a car. [snort] So you know he had plenty of opportunities in his life - ones he was choosing, at the time he mugged me, to waste on a gang. But I can't help but think being raised in today's Black Culture - the one that glorifies the baggy pants he wore and the thug lifestyle he emulated, to be a factor.

If he were arrested and I had the opportunity to press charges, I would do so. I absolutely believe he will pay for his crimes, one way or the other. I'm very glad he chose me instead of another victim. I am very glad I gave him a beating, when I found out afterward he had stolen an old man's lapdog and struck a neighbor child.

Do I hate him? No, I feel more annoyance when I think of him wasting the good life he'd been given, on chasing after the thug ghetto lifestyle. I feel like he's stupidly wasting his life.

So I pray for him, and the other wanna be "thugs" who attempted to victimize us.

For other people, I have a much harder time with forgiveness. Most of them hurt Ron, but the police officer who said such horrible, hateful things to me - blaming ME for Ron's accident because he had walked to work alone (as he had for 30 years) - forgiveness is a long time coming. He's one of those "Only because I am born again and have the Holy Spirit in my life can I even THINK about trying to forgive you" types. How dare he?

The fact that he had Ron's backpack, and all the contents EXCEPT the cash I needed to live on... makes it even more difficult. I really believe he stole that money. Yes, God provided for me. More than he stole. But he robbed my husband as he lay bleeding to death in the road. Ooooh. That makes me boil.

God will repay; I cling to that. I pray for him more out of a sense of duty - I need to ask God to be with this man, and to put forgiveness and love in my heart. It's a good thing God is in control: if He asked me whether to let that man into heaven, I'd probably say no. But it's not for me to decide: God knows what led him to that and God sees the good in him, and loves him and DIED for him, even. So I pray, dutifully, wondering if I will ever really let it go.

People hurt me when I was younger; not understanding my disabilities. It took me a while to get to seeing their point of view: Whatever I try to do for Heather, it's wrong. She just gets worse. Of course that would be tremendously frustrating, and I can accept, understand, and forgive. I had to read an article, actually, on the difficulties of caregiving for a child with Fetal Alcohol Syndrome, before I could actually type out "I forgive you".

I'm glad I did. Ron's family has been more challenging. They had some caregiving experiences gone wrong - assuming if they helped someone a large inheritance would be theirs. Not only did they get completely burned out, they got "screwed" when the will was read. With that fresh in their minds, here's Ron with a truly horrible prognosis.

Of course they wanted to run. I can accept and understand that. I can accept and understand that I frightened them with my zeal. I was mentally ill; unmedicated, (undiagnosed) and acting like it. Even when Ron and I tried to tell them I was "different" we were met with hostile rejection.

They were terrified I would fail him and they'd be stuck with him, burned out and used up. I can accept that.

They wanted the easy solution: Ron in a nursing home. I can accept that. None of them had very much free time for caregiving. They were all living paycheck to paycheck. They wanted what was easy and for them, "free". I can accept that.

I have a more difficult time with the whole "Sneaking around Heather's back, having the insiders club planning things for Ron, with no input from Heather. Treating her badly and excusing it with 'Well, she loves him, she'll take it if she wants to be with him." I have obvious difficulties with the time I was kidnapped and taken somewhere against my will, on a day when I had a training scheduled with his physical therapist.

But, we were all under a lot of stress,weren't we? I stayed for it all, it's obvious they could afford to take me for granted. Only God and I know how close I came to saying "Fine, if I have no input in how Ron's going to live the rest of his life you can have him. I'll just walk out of his life like YOU want to do and stick you with him. You can have him and good luck." Ron, literally, begged me not to leave him. He knew how close I was to the brink. He held me with his good arm as I broke down sobbing, terrified I would "Fail" him somehow. He told me I could never do that, because I loved him.

Fortunately, he has "forgotten" that day. It is not the proudest moment of my marriage, let me tell you! I can forgive that. Hell, even I almost lost it.

They were always very concerned with appearances, but God set things up in such a way that they showed their true colors to the hospital staff - uninvolved, uninterested, and unmotivated to help. When the rubber hit the road, when I finally decided I could trust them; they failed us.

After the kidnapping incident, Ron told his brother "If you can't treat Heather with the respect due my wife I never want to hear from you again!" He never did; even after "apologizing" months later for "Anything either of us may have done". Watching Ron's face as he hung up from those phone calls, his face etched with pain - not so easy to forgive.

He begged for anything - a scrap of conversation here and there - completely throwing aside his pride. "Why are you talking funny?" his sister asked one day. She thought it was funny to mock his speech. Funny. Yeah, let's laugh at YOU after YOU have a massive head injury, stroke, and spend 3 weeks in ICU.

That had me wanting to sharpen up my hatchet. His brother had an even uglier, more hateful attitude. He just simply ignored every message Ron sent, until his wife "accidentally" called him one day, talked briefly about nothing, and hung up - an obvious "He was supposed to be a carrot, how with it IS he?"

His parents refused to come to our wedding - that hurt him. I have a hard time with that, but Ron is adamant the siblings must have made them "choose". Well, the invitation said "Share their joy as they exchange vows". We invited the people who could - not many, as it turned out. I only wanted loving people who loved us; I did get my wish. The last thing I wanted was a lot of ____ family drama.

Personally, I'm glad they're not in my life. They were very controlling and as far as I could tell, completely unsympathetic. Good riddance, I say... but I see Ron hurting sometimes and know they hurt him badly. They failed him.

So, they're on my prayer list. I ask God to put his love in my heart, to lead them to Him. I know nothing I do will impact their possible salvation; but He's laid it on me to pray. So I will, and do.

Some days I don't like it.