shalom aleikhem

This won't be my prettiest post ever... but I need to sort some things out before we head down for Christmas.  Like I've said often -- free therapy, minus the couch.

***

When someone you've wronged forgives you, you're spared the dull and self-diminishing throb of a guilty conscience.

When you forgive someone who has wronged you, you're spared the dismal corrosion of bitterness and wounded pride.

For both parties, forgiveness means the freedom again to be at peace inside their own skins and to be glad in each other's presence.

--Frederick Buechner

***

Glad in each other's presence.  Christmas morning?

That particular scenario seems about as likely to me as an 80-degree Christmas Day here in Washington.

In an act of trying to prove I'm not the bad guy, I said that Justin and I could head over Christmas morning to have breakfast and open presents at the aunt and uncle's house.  It's... hard for me.  I've wished more than once I'd never said it.

Justin and I took advantage of having more than Sunday off this week and went to church on Saturday night.  CTK seems to have a real awareness of how crazy people let things get during the holidays, and so they purposefully dial things down a few notches.  The subject of the message was peace.

We haven't been to church since before school started back up again, and as I've admitted here recently, sometimes it feels like I'm better at doubt than at faith, but I'm at least trying to be good at showing up and listening.  That I can do.  It doesn't mean I have my defenses completely lowered, but I'm there.

So as the pastor was talking about peace, he urged people to practice peace.

"Therefore, as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.  Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another.  Forgive as the Lord forgave you.  And over all these virtues, put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.  Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace.  And be thankful.  --Colossians 3:12-15"

"If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone.  --Romans 12:18"

I wish I could say that I had this deep moment of realization at this point -- but my defenses went sky-high and I fought it with all of my being.  Yeah, forgiveness, you would say that right about now.  Did anyone know about in-laws when this was written?  Paul was a single dude, you know.  ;)

The only moment my heart softened was when Grant said, as the time together was purposefully ended on a quiet and introspective note -- "I know that for some of you, this may be the only moment of peace you're going to get."  Softly: "Merry Christmas."

Tears down the cheeks, one in rapid succession after another.  It wasn't really this deeply spiritual moment.  It was really a pity-party where I agreed that, yeah, this may be my only moment of peace.  It was a beginning, a slight softening.  For me, things like this just take a few days to sink in.

Yes, people have acted horribly, but how much of that lack-of-peace is my own doing?  It usually takes quite a bit for me to get pissed off -- but once I'm there, I set up camp there.  I'm not kidding, you guys -- I woke up early this morning and began having a silent (yet angry) conversation with my uncle.  Anytime I'm having a one-sided conversation with someone I'm frustrated with, driving alone in the car, or in the dark of the early morning hours, that's a huge sign that things have gotten out of hand; that there is some work to be done in my own heart and mind.  There will be a time and a place to have that conversation, and J and I are united on that front.  But why waste so many other moments that could be full and beautiful by being bitter and rehashing details and constantly running through my lines?

To be honest, I don't know if there's any way that I'm going to walk into my husband's aunt and uncle's home with anything less than a sense of dread.  Forgiveness or not, I feel like I'm walking into a group of people that don't like me and don't trust me, and being asked to be full of holiday cheer and family-type sentiments.  That may be beyond me, but what of this forgiveness that is asked of me?  What of refusing the poison of bitterness and letting go of the wounded pride?

When I try to think of lofty thoughts like forgiveness, the first thing that pops into my head is that this whole thing is just so damned unfair.  I take certain aspects of my character and reputation seriously.  When I find out people have made me out to be a dishonest person with ill motives toward their family, and have compiled a case against me without me having any idea (partially built on sea-sickness a year ago)-- God.  It just kills me. 

I know that these relationships were distant long before I arrived on the scene, and that Justin has seen his family far more since we've been together than in the previous seven or eight year span.  I know that these efforts to visit and keep in touch have largely been on our side, and that the demands are ungracious in light of their own lack-of-participation.  If knowing these things was enough to lessen my sense of hurt-i-ness over the whole thing, I'd be there.  But it's not enough.  I feel raw.  I know that there are far worse things to deal with during the holidays -- I know it -- but for me right now, this burden aches.

Forgive.

But --

Forgive.

I really think that--

Forgive.

They--

Forgive.

Okay... okay.  I hear you.  I get it.  Plus, I must look like a mad person talking to imaginary foes in my car.  It may take me twenty-five moments just like this one where I decide again to forgive before I'm actually there.  But okay.  I'll start heading in the general direction of letting it go, wanting their good, wanting to be glad in their presence (or in their presence at all).  I'm ashamed to admit it's not this benificent thing -- I'm doing this for the sake of being at peace in my own skin more than anything else at this point.  But it's a place to start, I guess, and peace with the relatives or not, at least there will be peace in my heart.  Peace in my marriage.  Peace with God.  

The moments outside of that tough upcoming conversation will be my own again.  Ours again.

Shalom aleikhem.  Peace upon you.