mama says om: forgive

We were married on a cool, crisp spring day in a tiny Texas town, at a tiny country church. Our reception was a block down the dirt road from the church in an old wooden school house that cost a mere $35 to rent out. Thank goodness it was cool that day because it was not air conditioned. And in Texas, that's not good.

We did all the traditional wedding things like eating, drinking and dancing, of course. The dance I shared with my father was set to "What a Wonderful World" by Louis Armstrong. And while we were dancing, my hand in his, closer than we'd probably been in years, his eyes welled up and he said, "Please forgive me for being so hard on you. You were a good kid." I was caught off guard and shook my head, "No, you weren't. I had a wonderful childhood," I reassured him. But I could sense the pain in his voice and could tell how much it meant for him to say those words at that time. It's never easy to ask for forgiveness.

The truth was, we were both right. I did have a great childhood, and he was hard on me. And on my sister and brother. But he and I especially butted heads because we were so much alike. And because of our similarities I was the one who could relate to him more than my siblings, or so it seemed. It was me, not my brother, who usually accompanied him on trips to his ranch down in South Texas. We would wake up before dawn, stalk quietly out to the deer blind and sit there in total silence for four hours. It was a real bonding experience. Once I talked him out of shooting a ten-point buck by invoking his empathy through pure guilt. How can a father resist when his ten year-old daughter looks at him and asks how he would feel if someone shot him so they could hang his ears on the wall?

One time there was a tornado near our neighborhood. The sirens alerted us and we retreated to the basement to wait it out. As we were huddled listening to the radio to find out how close it was, I became distraught and started to cry. I reminded my Dad that he had always said he would bring my frog, Sherman, to the basement with us if there was a tornado warning. He sighed and agreed, and went upstairs to retrieve the very heavy aquarium and very scared leopard frog. Looking back, I can't believe he risked his life to keep his word. But that was the kind of Dad he was.

Yes, there had been hard feelings and maybe some bitterness about how he handled me in my teen years when I was dating a guy I was forbidden to see. But how typical is that? Any teenager who doesn't rebel isn't worth their salt, in my book. And any parent who doesn't fight to hold on isn't either.

Since becoming a parent, it has been much easier for me to let go of past judgments I held somewhere in the back of my consciousness against my parents. Seeing things from this side of the table changes everything. I know that I would throw my body in front of a train without a second thought to save my children or attack an armed man like a mother lion if he tried to bring them harm. I also know that I make mistakes every day that may affect them in detrimental ways. Sometimes small, sometimes big. And as they grow I'm sure I'll make even bigger mistakes and someday I might even find myself asking their forgiveness on their wedding day as I try to make things right before they move onto the next phase of their lives. And I hope they will measure the depth of my love against the weight of my sins and choose to forgive me, too.



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