My reflection for the day is to focus on one person and offer my act of forgiveness.
This is going to be more difficult and painful than I have imagined; this is too personal, but somehow the net also provide certain veil anonymity and so I'm posting it just the same.
Forgiveness is one word that would be very difficult to define and understand. I know that this simply is not just a word that I have to say in order to cleanse the iniquities; for the scar will be there, an infinite reminder of the wound inflicted. Will the word be enough to take away the pain, resentment and anger for the offense made? Somehow the voice of that word has the power to soothe but I really do not know; what I know is that my mind will always have that imprint of scar despite knowing in my heart that I have forgiven. What I have come to realize is that, forgiveness is a process; saying the words "I forgive..." is a sacred act, that is why there is the sacrament of confession and absolution in the Christian world. This is my act of forgiveness.
There is one person I offer this act of forgiveness, not so much for her but for me to exorcise the demons that clouds the core of my being.
I cannot fully understand why for so many years and for as long as I can remember; I have been so distant with my parents, my mother in particular. I have condemned myself with guilt for this for as long as I can remember. I have tried to search for the answer and my introspection always lead me back to the time I was in 3rd grade school.
I spent my primary education in public school in a small, bucolic town. Each batch of class is composed of 3-4 sections per level; divided into section 1: the honor class; and sections 2-3 and 4; the other class. I am no genius but not dim-witted either, as attested by some awards I have gotten when I was in the first 2 grades. But this was put into question when I reached the third grade; when I was put in the honor class, upon the recommendation of my grade 2 teacher, who happened to be my mother. The torments, anguish and shame started when my grade 3 teacher repeatedly put in no uncertain terms, that the only reason I was with the class was because of my mother; that I do not deserve to be in the honor class; that I was a dim-wit worthy of the last section and not her class. I don't think the humiliation it has brought me can be measured in any terms and sphere. My young spirit just took it all in; I never told anyone of the pain I was suffering; it felt the whole world crashed on me. I have completely lost my confidence; for each failure and mistakes I made was magnified in my thoughts that perhaps, I must really be a dim-wit. I became angry with my mother for putting me in that class; but my anger cannot overcome my fear of her and my fear of what she might do if she finds out; she's one feisty lady who'll never flinched on a fight for she is a mother first and foremost. It was a long agonizing year for me but it must have been a miracle for me to have survived that class; unfortunately not the scar it has created which, will be forever etched in my heart and mind.
It has been a struggle for me since and all these years to regain my confidence. In a way it has helped me in my struggle to be better, to achieve more, and to prove her wrong. In so many ways and in so many times I have already proven her wrong with each triumph I achieved. But my tribulation remains for I cannot seem to erase the distant wall I have with my mother and that is my greatest frustration more than anything else.
How do I tell my mother, she who has love and protected me, overprotected me at times only a mother would do and know how; she who is now on her twilight years; she who has suffered as well in her own struggle for life and family; how do I tell her that I forgive her for the wrong of long ago that is not of her choosing. It could crush her heart, for I know she meant only the good things for me when she did what she did. It might be cruel for me to say all these now, for time has already proven that she was right after all in putting me in that class. I'm still afraid to tell her and I don't think I would ever have the courage to tell her. And so this is my process, this is my act for her. I have forgiven as much as I ask for her forgiveness for the times that I have not been a good son.
In a way I also offer this forgiveness to the very person instrumental in the distant wall I have ut up with my parents; she who has put in doubt the very core of my being; she who has caused me agony of innumerable pain for the loss of confidence in myself. May she now rest in peace for I have found, albeit painfully, the consolation that my struggle to prove her wrong has in a way, steeled me to strive and achieved much, much more than what she might have taken me for. The experience of it all has, in a way exalted my being and the values that I hold. It has reinforced my pride and my integrity that can never be compromised.
I am human; a flawed and frail human being. I humble myself for forgiveness for the frailties only a human heart can endure.