The Forgiveness Process

Healed wounds become the source of compassion and courage.

J- remembers bits and pieces of that day. Just a toddler, he recalls playing on the floor with his mother, T-. She had bought some cheap plastic dinosaurs for him at the dime store (or the Dollar Store in today’s language), and she looked on as he marched them around and pitched them in battles with his little hands.

It was hard for her to get down on the floor. She was pregnant with J’s little sister. Very pregnant. He and his mother were always talking about having a little sister, how they would play together, what to name her.

“Take your toys and play in your room.” His mother said this abruptly. Maybe he argued. He’s not sure. The next thing he remembers is playing with those dinosaurs in his room and hearing his father’s loud, angry voice.

Some time elapsed. His mother Jane came into the room, closed the door, and sat down with him. “It’s okay,” she said, “it’s okay.” It didn’t feel okay. There was something menacing in the air, and although that invisible menace sometimes receded,…