“Every encounter with
forgiveness requires defeating the ego over and over again.”
Gandhi
Two nights ago at dinner, my
granddaughter bore down on me in anger. I don’t remember her words, but I see
her face, eyes cold, lips pursed and spitting words. Shouting as if I were her
thirteen year old adversary instead of her seventy-three year old grandmother,
she was relentless. Mean. Melting inside, I sat tall, found what I hoped was a
soft but firm voice and said, “N., go to your room.” She
pushed back her chair, rose silently, and walked from the dining room. A day passed without our speaking or seeing one another, although we lived in the same house. This morning before leaving
for an early morning yoga class, I offered a ride to the bus stop. She accepted.
Driving,
I asked about yesterday’s cross-country ski meet, her dance lesson, each
question a slick of ice covering the deep pool of our discontent. This was not
the time to address her disrespect, her tone of voice. This was a time for both
of us to take a breath and to reflect, consciously or not. My grand daughter talked
openly and energetically about the meet—she fell down three times, but that
didn’t matter. She had fun. In her dance class, she was learning a routine.
“You start down on the floor,” she said, then reciting each move, she explained
how each dancer rose to her feet.
At
the bus stop, I shifted the car into park. We sat in silence, but not uncomfortably. “I’m sorry, Grammy,” my grand daughter said, her voice soft and contrite.
I
don’t remember what else she said. Perhaps, I didn’t need to hear more. Turning to face her, my
voice grew thick. “We love each other very much, don’t we?”
She
nodded.
Because
I’m preparing for my Bat Mitzvah, I’m
thinking deeply about moments like this one. What are the values I want to pass
on? Atonement? Yes. Forgiveness? Yes. But how do you forgive when your ego
won’t let go, insisting instead of holding onto hurt? Anger’s doppelganger is
fear. Afraid to reveal vulnerability, we hide inside of anger’s hard shell. We
need to stick out necks, but hiding feels safer. It’s not. Anger leaves a path
strewn with destruction. Stepping out of anger and ego, we step into a place of
humility and of harmony. Love springs forth as it did for Nina and me. So what
do I want our family to value now and after I’m gone? That extra breath where
the ego gives way and we draw forgiveness into our lungs.
