"Some people are lucky; they seem to have gracious glands that secret the juices of forgetfulness. They never hold a grudge; they do not remember old hurts. Their painful yesterdays die with the coming of tomorrow." This is my sister Mallory. This is Michelle Duggar.
"It is ten times harder for an ordinary person, whom nobody is watching, to forgive and forget". Yep. That's me!
And then there was this story. The Magic Eyes- a Little Fable
The Magic Eyes: A Fable
In the village of Falken in innermost Freisland there lived a long, thin baker named Fouke; a righteous man, with a long thin nose and a long thin chin. Fouke was so upright that he seemed to spray righteousness from his thin lips over everyone who came to him. So, everyone preferred to stay away. His wife, Hilda, was short and round. Her bosom was round and so was her rump. She did not keep people at bay with her righteousness; her soft roundness seemed to invite them in to be close with her and share her warmth. She respected her husband and loved him very much, as much as he would allow her; but her heart ached for something more from him. And there in the bed of her need lay her sadness.
One morning Fouke came home and found a stranger lying on Hilda's bosom. Hilda's adultery became the talk of the town. Fouke surprised everyone by keeping Hilda as his wife, saying he forgave her as the good book said he should. But, in his heart of hearts, he could not forgive her for bringing shame to his name. Whenever he thought about her, his feelings towards her were angry and hard; he despised her as if she were a whore. When it came right down to it, he hated her for betraying him after he had been such a faithful and good husband to her. He only pretended to forgive her so that he could punish her with his righteous mercy.
His fakery did not sit well in heaven. So each time he would feel his secret hate, an angel came to him and dropped a small pebble, hardly the size of a small button into his heart. Each time a pebble dropped into his heart, he would feel a stab of pain like the pain he felt the moment he came on Hilda feeding her hungry heart from a stranger's larder. Thus he hated her the more; his hate brought him pain and his pain made him hate. The pebbles multiplied and his heart grew heavy with the weight of them, so heavy that the top half of his body bent forward so that he had to strain his neck upward in order to see ahead. Weary and hurt, he began to wish he were dead.
The angel who dropped the pebbles into his heart came to him one night and told him how he could be healed of his hurt. There is only one remedy for the hurt of the wounded heart. He would need the miracle of the magic eyes. He would need eyes that could look back and see a wife not who betrayed him but as a weak woman who needed him. He protested and said that nothing could change the past. She is guilty and an angel cannot change that. The angel said, "You cannot change the past. You can only heal the hurt that comes to you from the past. And you can only heal it with the vision of the magic eyes." He asked how to get the magic eyes. "Ask, and they will be given. Each time you see Hilda through your new eyes, a pebble will be lifted from your heart."
He could not ask at once, for he had grown to love his hatred. Finally, his pain drove him to ask and the angel gave him the magic eyes. Hilda began to change and he saw her as a needy woman who loved him. The angel kept her promise and lifted the pebbles one by one, though it took a long time. He invited Hilda into his heart again and she came. And together they began their second season of humble joy.
I have always thought, "God, I need your eyes and heart in order to forgive my mother". And yet I asked without fully asking. I was like the man who said "Help me overcome my unbelief!". I wanted to ask, but I also didn't want to let go.
How scary it is to let go! What if I let go and get hurt again? What if I get hurt deeper? Wouldn't it just be easier to just cut out the person who hurt me so that I wouldn't be hurt again? Can't I just sweep this under the rug?
Who am I kidding? I can't sweep to save my life!
Up next... the first stage: HURT.
Up next... the first stage: HURT.
No comments:
Post a Comment