Share a story where it was very difficult for you to forgive the perpetrator for wronging you, but you did it — you forgave them. Photographers, artists, poets: show us REPENTENCE.
We are all full of weakness and errors; let us mutually pardon each other our follies.
I forgave my ex-husband. It took time, but I forgave him. In the end, I was able to see him as an old friend. A dear friend with problems. It was alcoholism I couldn’t live with, not the man. I liked the man when he was sober. He died of hard-livin’ at age 51, a month after dancing with our daughter at her wedding. That was the last time I saw him. I’m glad he was there.
Forgiveness is giving up hope for a better past.
I forgave my mother every time. I forgave her, but it didn’t make me love her. Or like her. Forgiveness doesn’t suddenly change the forgiven one. It doesn’t make them virtuous or likable.
Maybe she couldn’t help it. That’s what I tell myself in order to forgive her. Maybe it was the abuse or that terrible fever she had as a child; maybe it fried a circuit in her brain. Grandma said Mom was never the same after that.
Forgiveness is me, giving up my urge to hurt you for hurting me.
Sometimes forgiveness takes time and distance. I’m keeping my distance. I will forgive Dick, but he may still be an asshole.