I am a residential school survivor. When I talk about the horrible things that happen to me, a less painful interpretation through the process of talking to my friends, prayer and counselling, I can reinterpret my experiences to a less painful conclusion and begin to feel better over time.
So often I think about my own life and what it means to forgive. I wonder if sometimes, when someone wrongs me, I hold on to that pain almost as a monument to remind me how much they hurt me. I can wear my old hurt like a badge of honour dragging myself and others into the vortex of bitterness and anger. Or I can take the high trail or the wise trail and tear down those old strongholds and rake the soil free of the debris that remind me of my pain and plant new seeds of friendship and grace. It won't be easy. And It will take time. But if I let the new grass grow in my life, who knows?
Maybe my children and my grandchildren and even their children will follow my example.
Red Lake, Ont.