Anita Mathias: Dreaming Beneath the Spires

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Thoughts on Writing my Just-published Memoir, & the Prologue to “Rosaries, Reading, Secrets”

By Anita Mathias

Writing a memoir awakens fierce memories of the past. For the past is not dead; it’s not even past, as William Faulkner observed. So what does one do with this undead past? Forgive. Forgive, huh? Forgive. Let it go. Again and again. For, after all, this world is one of insistent goodness, insistent abundance. Flowers bloom in the desert and, now, even in Antarctica. Plough a field in the English countryside, leave it fallow, and lo, it’s populated–the purple of thistles, belladonna and morning glories, the gold of buttercups and dandelions. Royal colours.

Little is wasted. We are recycled from exploded stars. Seeds look like unpromising things, hard and black. But they bring forth sunflowers and mighty mango trees; they sustain life itself. So I drop the past into the hands of God and trust him to bring from it something different and better as seeds bring forth surprises–roses perhaps, or pomegranates, forming the stuff of humans and elephants, of all this mighty world. Scientists germinated a thirty-two-thousand-year-old ice age seed in Siberia which flowered. So forgiveness is also this: to drop past pain into a greater hand, again and again, and ask him to make it bloom, even now, decades later.

 

Here’s the memoir, friends. Available at amazon.com and  amazon.co.uk

Prologue to Rosaries, Reading, Secrets: A Catholic Childhood in India 

In the Beginning:
You Woke and Heard the Birds Cough

I was made in India, in Jamshedpur, in Bihar then, (Jharkhand now), where the great Gangetic plains lope up to the foothills of the Himalayas.

The Buddha achieved enlightenment there in Bihar, six centuries before Christ; Mahavira, founder of Jainism, was born there. But I was an accidental pilgrim in this birthplace of religions. I was born in Jamshedpur because of steel.

The soil was red-ochre, flecked with tiny balls of murram, iron ore, visible signs of the hidden lodes which, in 1907, drew Zoroastrian industrialist, Jamshedji Nusserjani Tata, to Bihar to found Jamshedpur, The Steel City.

In Jamshedpur, blast furnaces belched grimness into the bleared skies as iron ore was refined to shining steel by The Tata Iron and Steel Company, one of the world’s largest steel companies, which, in 1952, lured my father, a Chartered Accountant, from still-racist London. (“Our accountant is Indian; is that a problem?” his boss had to ask. Sometimes it was.) Now he was the Controller of Accounts at Tata’s—and after he visited Pittsburgh in the sixties and introduced the first computers to TISCO, monsters which hogged a wall, he also became Manager of Data Processing, as I told everyone proudly. And “What is that?” they asked.

My father married late, aged thirty-eight. I was born after seven years of infertility and the death of their infant first-born son, Gerard, three days old. My mother never overcame her disappointment that I, born the year after Gerard, was a mere girl, while my father, who’d mournfully say that girls were a terrible thing, expected me to be every bit as extraordinary as the boy who never lived would undoubtedly have been.

 

Within hours of my birth, I fell ill with dysentery, which had killed my elder brother. My father vowed he would go to Mass every Friday for ten years if I lived. I did; he did. And so, in an emergency baptism with hastily-blessed hospital water, in Jamshedpur, at the heart of the Hindu heartland, I was christened Anita Mary Mathias, daughter of Noel Joseph Mathias and Celine Mary Mathias, the European surname given to our family when the Portuguese occupied my ancestral town of Mangalore on the coast of the Arabian Sea in 1510, converting the population to Roman Catholicism with the carrot of government jobs, and the stick of the Inquisition­—Counter-Reformation fires reaching the tropics.

Which explains why a child born in the Hindu heartland had grandparents called Piedade Felician Mathias and Josephine Euphrosyne Lobo, Stanislaus Coelho and Molly Rebello, and great-grandmothers called Gracia Lasrado Mathias, Julianna Saldanha Lobo, Alice Coelho Rebello and Apolina Saldanha Coelho, though, on my mother’s side, everyone was a Coelho, for Coelhos, as the thirteen branches of that family observe proudly, Coelhos, whenever possible, only marry Coelhos.

 

Thanks for reading, friends. I’d be grateful for your support. Available at amazon.com and  amazon.co.uk

Filed Under: In which I forgive Aught against Any (Sigh), Memoir Tagged With: forgiveness, Indian Catholics, Jamshedpur, Mangaloreans, memoir

Keeping our Small Boat Afloat: Thoughts on Redemption, Giving up Regret, and my Thirty Year Marriage

By Anita Mathias

Our wedding portrait, 30 years ago

I love this verbally rich “worship song” from the young song-writer John Mark Macmillan

He is jealous for me.

Love’s like a hurricane, and I am a tree

Bending beneath the weight of his wind and mercy.

 I don’t have time to maintain these regrets,

When I think about the way,

He loves us.

I love the whole song… different phrases at different times. Today, it’s the phrase, I don’t have time to maintain these regrets…

Like most people, I have regrets… mistakes I’ve made through accepting bad advice, through lack of self-confidence, through sinful or foolish choices, distraction, self-indulgence, anger, not putting first things first… the list could go on.

* * *

Roy and I at Christ Church, Oxford where Irene is doing Medicine. Between Auden and Lewis Carrol!

In Tennyson’s poem “Morte D’Arthur,” Arthur’s beloved Queen Guinevre has an affair with his beloved best friend, Launcelot, and Arthur, loving both, is silent. The adulterous lovers are caught in flagrante delicto by his nephew, Mordred, and there is civil war at the end of which Arthur lays dying.

Tennyson has him say,

                      I have lived my life, and that which I have done

       May He within Himself make pure.

That’s a prayer I often find myself praying, putting all I have done into God’s hands, the beautiful and the ugly, the wise and the foolish, and asking him to bring something beautiful out of even my mistakes and sins. Asking him to redeem them, and miraculously transform them.

For what is planted, after a period underground, inevitably emerges as something different, the undistinguished sunflower seed as glorious sunflowers–so redeem it all, Lord, the folly, the laziness, the wasted time, the wasted years, and because of your great mercy, bring something immeasurably different and far more beautiful from these grubby seeds, that I may go out with a vast “thank you.”

“I think that the dying pray at the last not “please”, but “thank you”, as a guest thanks his host at the door. Falling from airplanes the people are crying thank you, thank you, all down the air.” Annie Dillard.

* * *

At the Alcazar, Seville, last month

Later this year, I will have been married to Roy for thirty years. Thirty years!! Apparently, only 49 percent of marriages in this country reach this milestone, either through divorce or death, so, God willing, we will be in the happy minority.

The New Yorker writer Tessa Hadley describes long marriages this way: you hold onto your lover through the years, and he changes: a fairy, a dragon, a lion, a beloved man. That is the seminal truth of fairy tales: “What is essential is invisible to the eye, it is only with the heart that one sees rightly,” Saint-Exupery has his  The Little Prince say. Hold on, long enough, and the Beast turns beautiful; the Frog reveals his nobility; Cinderella the Ash-girl, turns regal; Sleeping Beauty comes alive….

* * *

Me, 30 years later!

However, the upcoming anniversary has put me into a reflective mood. I often say, “I wish I had prioritised you more, I wish I had put you first,” and Roy says, “Don’t say sorry; I’m sorry too, but we may have another 30 years, or 40, or more…”

And then I think of redemption. This story runs through scripture: People muck things up, and God redeems them. God not only makes something beautiful out of them, but something more beautiful than things were before the mess, dropped rose or apple seeds blossoming into thousands of roses or apples for decades.

So too in relationships, we sin against each other…inevitably given human selfishness and frailty; we repent, we ask forgiveness, we come together again, and the latter state of our relationship and marriage is stronger than it would have been if we had never blown it, lost our tempers, repented, and come together again to try again to build a relationship built on love and care, and looking out for each other, and trying to put each other first.

Difficult ideals… and undoubtedly, we will again fail, repent, apologise, come together, try again, our marriage under God growing greener, blooming brighter, a sanctuary for ourselves, our children, our old friends, and the new ones God brings our way, like

“a shelter from the wind
 and a refuge from the storm,
like streams of water in the desert
and the shadow of a great rock in a thirsty land.”
(Isaiah 32:2)

* * *

I’m sorry/I forgive you by Libyan artist Arwa Abouon

On our honeymoon, way back in 1989, we took a cruise in a glass-bottomed boat in Florida, through coral reefs. There was an elderly German couple with us, every bit as touchy-feely, and full of lavish public displays of affection. So I, curious, then and now, quite illogically, sweetly asked them, “Are you on your honeymoon too?” “Mein Gott, nein, nein, nein,” the man said. “We’ve been married for forty years!” And then he added kindly, “May you two be as affectionate as you now are when you’ve been married for forty years!” It was a blessing. May it be so. Amen.

I’m sorry/I forgive you by Arwa Abouon

In conclusion, a little, lovely bitter-sweet poem from Robert Bly

 

KEEPING OUR SMALL BOAT AFLOAT

So many blessings have been given to us
During the first distribution of light, that we are
Admired in a thousand galaxies.

Don’t expect us to appreciate creation or to
Avoid mistakes. Each of us is a latecomer
To the earth, picking up wood for the fire.

Every night another beam of light slips out
From the oyster’s closed eye. So don’t give up hope
that the door of mercy may still be open.

It’s hard to grasp how much generosity
Is involved in letting us go on breathing,
When we contribute nothing valuable.

Each of us deserves to be forgiven, if only for
Our persistence in keeping our small boat afloat
When so many have gone down in the storm.

 

Books I’ve mentioned which you might enjoy

If you’d like to fine-tune your marriage with insights from neuroscience, try Dr. Sue Johnson’s The Love Secret on Amazon.co.uk or Amazon.com

or her book Hold Me Tight on Amazon.co.uk on Amazon.com .

Annie Dillard’s wonderful, powerful and poetic Pilgrim at Tinker Creek at Amazon.co.uk and Amazon.com

The title poem is from Robert Bly’s enjoyable collection Talking into the Ear of a Donkey on Amazon.co.uk and on Amazon.com

How He Loves by John Mark McMillan on Amazon.co.uk and Amazon.com

Tessa Hadley’s book on long marriages: Late in the Day, on Amazon.co.uk and on Amazon.com

Tennyson’s “Morte D’Arthur” on Amazon.co.uk and Amazon.com

The Little Prince on Amazon.com and on Amazon.co.uk

 

Filed Under: marriage, There is nothing but love Tagged With: Annie Dillard, EFT, forgiveness, giving up regrets, grace, Happiness, John Mark McMillan, marriage, redemption, Robert Bly, Tennyson, Tessa Hadley, The Little Prince, wedding anniversary

God can Extract Gold from the Griefs of the Past

By Anita Mathias

There is always another one walking beside you T.S. Eliot Wasteland

Emmaus, by Slovenian Jesuit Marco Rupnik from HolyArt.com

 

So, the new “Great Books” book group I’ve got together (we’re steadily reading chronologically through the Classics!) read the ancient Greek trilogy The Oresteia last week. The plot: Orestes avenges the murder of his father Agamemnon by his mother Clytemnestra by killing her.  And then, the Furies–personified forces of guilt and conscience–hound and oppress him. In the National Theatre production that I watched online, Orestes shuts his ears while they chant and torment.

The scene triggered inchoate half-remembered memories. Memory followed memory in a vicious circle, and I found myself experiencing snatches of what the evil clinical psychologist Henry Harlow (who tortured rhesus monkeys by isolating them for six months to a year in an inverted pyramid from which they could not escape) called the dungeon or pit of despair…

Painful memories from the past re-emerging… It’s not an uncommon experience, I daresay.

* * *

What is the way out? Not by playing the spool of traumatic memory on repeat. But one must notice the memories, not squash them or shove them underground where they might grow, fester and emerge in a more terrible form

 

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honourably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond. (
Rumi)

* * *

So how did I deal with the traumatic memory that scene triggered, and troubling memories in general? As it happens, there is a whole branch of Charismatic Christian psychology which deals with it, known as the healing of memories. It lets the light in.

You remember that Christ was there when you suffered that trauma. You were wrapped in invisible light. So nothing worse happened.

The past is never dead. It’s not even past, Faulkner famously wrote. That is its curse. The body keeps the score as psychiatrist Bessel van der Kolk writes in his excellent book: The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma.  

But… more. God keeps the score. God stores all our tears in a bottle, the Psalmist poetically says. And because the past is not dead, and it is not really past, it can be redeemed. Its trauma and meaning can be changed as God uses the experience, and brings green shoots from the ashes, roses from the rubble.

So what we must do with the past-but-still-alive thing in our bodies and memories is to invite God–for whom all time is brightly alive, for whom past, present and future exist in a single continuum–in. To invite him to bathe the scene in light. To take the sting from the memory. And then to redeem it. To bring good out of it.

Good ? What good?

Whatever good God chooses. Wisdom perhaps. Compassion for those who’ve similarly suffered. Kindness. The ministry of “The Wounded Healer.” Understanding of how we should live. Understanding of how our own sins and weaknesses led to the trauma (if they did). Understanding of others.

The past is present to God, who sees all time in a shimmering, still-active continuum. The old, unhappy, buried things in our lives are merely planted, and God can bring forth exquisitely beautiful things from what we view as dead seeds of pain, trauma, and failure.  For those who love God, everything works out for good, the Apostle Paul famously and puzzlingly says. How? Because God can make it work out for good.

* * *

The escape routes I know from the black hole of painful memories is the tunnel of love which includes the tunnel of forgiveness–self-forgiveness, and forgiveness of others.

“If you, oh Lord, should count our sins, who would survive?” the Psalmist says. Similarly, if we hold onto other people’s sins against us, if the precious ones in our lives keep a record of our sins against them, which relationship would survive? For who hasn’t sinned against those they love? Most importantly, if we hold on to a record of wrongs, we wouldn’t survive in joy, and peace, and creativity. Forgiveness is not easy, it may take repeated attempts and prayer for grace. Eventually, I can testify, by the grace of God, it comes.

* * *

Yes, the tunnel out of dark places, out of negative spirals, is love.

 What is love?

 Because Jesus had this super-brilliant mind, it’s always best to go with his definitions. His short-hand definition of love is what is rightly called, ‘the golden rule’: “Do unto others as you would have them do to you.” Scatter teeny-tiny deeds of kindness along your path, according to your capacity, and nature…

Of course, not every difficult relationship, whether at church, with extended family, and at work, needs to be pursued. Sometimes, we just act with grace and kindness, pray a quick arrow prayer for the person when they come to mind, and let them go, realising that this is not the best relationship in which to invest the limited time we have on earth.

But, in general, we must love one another or die, as the poet W. H. Auden says…. And in transforming a difficult relationship we want to keep, we must bend the other way, in Saint Ignatius’s phrase, maybe overdo the love and care and forgiveness, until loving becomes the norm.   (This, incidentally, is the way to break the grip of vicious circles in our lives… want to wake early, go to bed super-early; want to become tidy… for a while, devote time to becoming super-tidy…).

So, we let it go, let the past go, and instead live in the present, and gently, inexorably, bring light where there was darkness; positivity where there was negativity; plant green seeds of love, gentleness and service, where there was hate, baby step by baby step, into greenness and light.

* * *

 This post was sponsored by holyart.com. Please check them out.

 

Books Mentioned

The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma by Bessel van der Kolk. Excellent resource for those recovering from trauma. On Amazon.com and Amazon.co.uk

Sealed Orders: Agnes Sandford’s wonderful memoir deals with the healing of memories. On Amazon.co.uk and on Amazon.com

The Oresteia on Amazon.co.uk and on Amazon.com.

The Poetry of Rumi on Amazon.com and on Amazon.co.uk

 

Filed Under: In which I forgive Aught against Any (Sigh), Love: The Most Excellent Way, redemption Tagged With: Bessel van der Kolk, forgiveness, Healing of Memories, Henry Harlow, inner healing, Love, Rumi

On the Surprising Physical and Mental Health Benefits of Forgiveness

By Anita Mathias

WDF_1514184
Image Credit

Because of common grace, secular researchers and psychologists can offer us trenchant insights on the spiritual life.

I have long been interested in forgiveness (particularly HOW we do it) because it is one of the fundamental practices of Christ-followers (Jesus wants us to do it every time we pray!!) and because I do not find it easy. (Does anyone?)

I was fascinated by this article in the Atlantic on the physical and mental health benefits of forgiveness, as well as it in its practical left-brain analysis of how to forgive. Here’s a potted version.

* * *

Everett Worthington, a professor of psychology at Virginia Commonwealth University, researches the psychology of forgiveness (a process which gained personal impetus after his 78 year old mother was burgled, raped, and bludgeoned to death).

Worthington uses the memorable five step REACH method of forgiveness.

First, you “Recall” the incident, including all the hurt.

Then you “Empathize” with the person who wronged you.

Then give them the “Altruistic Gift” of forgiveness, maybe by recalling how good it felt to be forgiven by someone you yourself have wronged.

Next, “Commit” yourself to forgive publicly by telling a friend or the person you’re forgiving.

Finally, “Hold” onto forgiveness. Even when feelings of anger surface, remind yourself that you’ve already forgiven.

* * *

I have found the process very helpful, and now go through it whenever a memory which makes me angry surfaces (and, to be honest, I am surprised by how often such memories do surface!!). Sometimes, by the time I have tried to have empathy with the aggressor, I have understood why they acted as they did, and have already forgiven them!

Holding onto your decision to forgive is crucial. For feelings of anger will surface. It doesn’t mean your previous forgiveness was a failure. It just means you must forgive again to prevent reinjury to yourself, retraumatizing yourself. It’s like a decision to run must be followed up by actual running (alas!).

Worthington says there’s a sizable and immediate mental-health boost as we forgive and release angry memories which surface, and that an eight-hour forgiveness workshop can reduce subjects’ depression and anxiety levels as much as several months of psychotherapy would.

Forgiving people are markedly physically healthier than unforgiving ones, the article says. A 2005 study published in the Journal of Behavioral Medicine found that participants who considered themselves more forgiving had better health across five measures: physical symptoms, the number of medications used, sleep quality, fatigue, and medical complaints. The study authors found that this was because the process of forgiveness tamped down negative emotions and stress.

“The victim relinquishes ideas of revenge, and feels less hostile, angry, or upset about the experience,” the authors wrote.

* * *

In marriage, when the “victims” of a fights respond peacefully, both their blood pressure and their partner’s blood pressure is lower; granting and receiving forgiveness seemingly brought down the tension level of the entire marriage, whether the instigator of the fight had tried to make amends or not. “The power to grant forgiveness (and its benefits) rests with victims,” the authors concluded.

Other research shows that “when study subjects were told to mentally rehearse a hurtful memory in a resentful way, versus an empathetic and forgiving way, they had faster heart rates and larger blood pressure changes. They also showed more tension in their facial muscles.

When someone holds a grudge, their body courses with high levels of cortisol, the stress hormone. When cortisol surges at chronically high levels for long periods of time, Worthington says, it can reduce brain size, sex drive, and digestive ability.”

“Perhaps most surprisingly, though, forgiveness can also help with things that have nothing to do with physical or mental health.

“In a study recently published in Social Psychological and Personality Science, 46 participants were divided into two groups: One set were asked to write about a time when someone wronged them and they forgave the person, and the other group was asked about a time when they did not forgive the offender. Afterward, all of the subjects were led outside to gaze upon a large hill. The “unforgiving” group thought the hill was about 5 degrees steeper than the forgiving group did. Then, all the participants were asked to jump up and down. The forgiving group jumped seven centimetres higher, on average.

The experiments showed how a grudge can weigh a person down—literally—says Ryan Fehr, an author of the study.

“If you’re primed with having a heavy burden, it makes you feel heavy,” he said.”

* * *

Importantly, the article goes on to note that there is a difference between forgiveness and accepting unrepentant behaviour. You release the injury, but do not need to put yourself in a position to be reinjured. As Anne Lammott says, “Forgiveness means it finally becomes unimportant that you hit back; you’re done. It doesn’t mean that you want to have lunch with the person!” A crucial distinction!

Filed Under: In which I forgive Aught against Any (Sigh), random Tagged With: forgiveness, health benefits of forgiveness, mental health benefits of forgiveness

On How Elephants Can Escape Their Chains, and We Can Too

By Anita Mathias

raja the elephant

Elephants, majestic, loveable, gentle beasts, are tamed by cruel means I hate reading about in Thailand, principally, in Nepal, in India and in Malaysia.

A common trick, less cruel than the others though, is this. The elephant is initially chained to a tree with heavy chains. Later, however, the mahouts don’t bother to attach the chain to the tree. The elephant, however, stands motionless or paces for long hours believing himself to be chained. However, all it takes for him to be free is to gallop away; he can trample those who cruelly abused him and crushed his spirit while he was chained.

That’s us sometimes, chained when we can so easily be free.

* * *

The biggest chain which binds people to ugliness they do not wish to be bound to?

It is when we cannot forgive, and so people who do not deserve that honour inhabit our hearts and emotions.

* * *

One way to tell what a blogger, or preacher, struggles with is to scroll through a few years of her posts or sermons. We write our obsessions. We teach best what we need to learn the most.

Forgiveness, very sadly, does not come easily to me.

* * *

How do we cut the chains that bind us? How do we forgive?

We need the grace of God. Forgiveness is as hard to accomplish by an act of will as breaking a drug, alcohol or nicotine addiction by an act of will (though all of these are possible).

Forgiveness is terribly hard, and when you have done so, you have the same relief as when you have tidied a cluttered room.

You sleep so soundly. You sleep so deeply. You sleep so well.

* * *

This is the best way I know of cutting the chains which bind you to those who have injured you. You say, “Yes, you have sinned against me; you have deceived me; you have lied about me… whatever, whatever. But I will not hold it against you. I will even pray that God blesses all the goodness in you and uses it for his Kingdom. My raw emotions sometimes feel that you deserve to be cursed not blessed, but I do not want the toxins of such sentiments in my mouth or heart. So I bless you in the name of Jesus. Go and be blessed.”

Phew. And in those simple words, the act of blessing, you are free.

* * *

And tomorrow, your tiny un-elephant brain may forget the beautiful resolutions of today, the glorious transaction of today, and get all bitter again.

Don’t be surprised, dear reader. It’s par for the course. It’s called being human.

So, dear one, do it all over again. Cut the chain of grievance once again. Pray blessing on those who have injured you once again. It does not seem that they deserve it, but you, oh child of God, deserve peace, oh yes, you do.

Do it for Jesus. Do it for you.

Amen!

Filed Under: In which I forgive Aught against Any (Sigh) Tagged With: elephants, forgiveness, freedom

The Best Way to Forgive–Bend in the Opposite Direction

By Anita Mathias

Image Credit

Penelope Swithinbank, an Anglican spiritual director and  retreat leader, once told me an excellent way to get over the hump of forgiveness.

Like many people, I can struggle to forgive for years, for decades, re-injuring myself in the process–so much so that I am included to think of forgiveness as a miracle God does for us, a surgery he performs in our hearts, rather than something we do by an act of will. But of course, it’s both!

* * *

Penelope mentioned an idea from The Spiritual Exercises of Saint Ignatius. Ignatius says that the best way to straighten a bent twig is not to force it into an upright position. It will merely snap back to its former position.

The way to straighten a bent twig is to deliberately bend it in the opposite direction. And then, when it springs back, it will move to an upright position.

* * *

The application: If you are struggling with forgiveness, the best way to forgive is—breathe deeply now!!– to pray to be given a love for that person. The best way to forgive is to bless them.

Yes, request a blessing on them, because the way they have treated you is not the whole truth of their characters.  Pray a blessing on them because God commands you too. Pray a blessing on them because that’s the kind of person you want to be, a person who is a blessing.

Bless them and release them, for your own sake, so you no longer have to heft around the gorilla of grudges on your back.

Forgive completely because you are no longer going to sip old stale poison, and hope it kills them.

Forgive because you not going to have any cancer in your heart, no, not even a little. You are going to flush out the toxicity of tedious old grievances and grudges.

Unlock the prison doors, and release the sulky captive who could not forgive, who happens to be you, yourself. Release her into the open sunshine of God’s love.

* * *

Yes, that is the quickest way to forgive. Bending the other way. Hold your breath, jump into the pool of God’s love, and forgive the one who has wronged you. Bless her from your heart, before you think better of it.

 

Filed Under: In which I forgive Aught against Any (Sigh) Tagged With: forgiveness, Spiritual Exercises, St. Ignatius

When Waves of Mercy Crash Over My “If Onlys”

By Anita Mathias

Motherhood.

The land of If Onlys.

* * *

If only I’d been calmer when I was pregnant with her.

If only she’d had a higher birth weight.

If only I had breast-fed longer,

If only I had used better childcare,

Or no child-care.

If only I could have home-schooled,

Or read to the girls for longer,

Or helped them with homework,

Or spoken more positive words.

If only their parents had fought less.

If only, if only, if only, I wish….

* * *

And then, I feel them, from nowhere,

Waves of mercy, waves of grace.

They flood over me,

they pulse through me.

They pour, pour, pour.

And I see.

* * *

It’s clay. It’s all clay.

The deep blue clay of the bitter years,

The black clay of one’s failures,

Clay with streaks of silver tears,

Clay red with one’s heart’s blood.

And the best thing I can do

With my if onlys and I wishs

Is place them

In the potter’s magnificent hands

And watch

 

As he kneads,

Shapes, forms, moulds.

 

And I see, amazed,

A glorious vase emerge,

Perfect for its purpose,

In my daughter’s life,

As in my own.

 

Not what we had asked for,

Not what we had dreamed of,

Not what we had expected.

 

Something different is being fashioned

With the azure of failure,

The silver streaks of tears,

The red of one’s heart’s blood,

And the black of sadness.

 

And it is beautiful.

* * *

 

And so, I will no longer look back,

In regret

At foolish, messy yesterdays.

I will entrust yesterday to your magic

hands, O Potter, and tomorrow!

 

I will sit today,

Where waves of love

Crash over me,

 

I will sit

Where waves of mercy pour over my life.

Filed Under: In which I am amazed by the love of the Father, In which I play in the fields of poetry Tagged With: forgiveness, Mercy, Parenting, the potter's hands

How Forgiveness Unlocks the Goodness of Life: A Guest Post by Carmel Thomason

By Anita Mathias

Against the Odds

Against the Odds

As a journalist I meet all kinds of people. I usually want to make people look their best. Sometimes it’s harder, because some people don’t help themselves. They’ve already decided all journalists are sour people who want to focus on the worst aspects of life. There are people who make it clear that they don’t want to talk to me in case I write about them, and then take umbrage when I do what they want and ignore them. Usually these are people who have nothing interesting to say anyway.

And then there are people who have such an amazing story to tell that meeting them has changed my view of the world.

Ray Rossiter is one of those people. I first met Ray when I called him about an exhibition that the Imperial War Museum North was hosting about the experiences of prisoners of the Japanese during World War II. Lots of men were interviewed for that exhibition. They all had fascinating tales to tell, but there was something about Ray that stuck with me. It was in the small things. For example, some men understandably said that they could never eat rice again after their experience. Ray said: “I love rice, it kept me alive.”

When I spoke to Ray he asked if I was going to visit him. Given the time constraints of my news desk I couldn’t. Then he told me that his wife had dementia and he was the sole carer. I realised that he probably wasn’t getting out of the house much at all, so I said that while I couldn’t visit him in work time, I would go to see him. I suppose I went to his house the first time because I felt sorry for him and his situation, but as time went on Ray was to touch my heart in a way that I could never have expected.

As a journalist I was used to people calling me to ask me to fight their corner, seek justice for a wrong done to them, even if it was simply to expose it. I’d hear people describe anything from a cross word between friends to the most heinous of crimes as unforgiveable. Yet, here was a man who had suffered unimaginable wrongs and he carried no bitterness. As Christians we talk about forgiveness all the time, but it can feel quite abstract. When we actually witness it lived out, as Ray is doing, it is life-changing.

When Ray talks about the war he says: ‘I felt that God was there all the time, his love shining through the actions of men, one for another. He was there in every kindness, every act of compassion – it is how we survived. It was often said: “It’s every man for himself in here,” but in reality nothing was further from the truth. We depended so much on one another for encouragement, morale-boosting and in numerous instances for our very survival.’

The friendships Ray forged in those adverse times were ones which were to last a lifetime. The men he knew then, men who could be cheerful under the most appalling circumstances, were not men who could let bitterness eat into their souls and he didn’t like to see hatred consuming them in this way. It was a big ask, Ray more than anyone knew that, but he wanted to encourage them, for their own sake, to forgive.

‘Even years later it was a taboo subject among our fellows and it wasn’t an easy thing to get across because it’s hard to comprehend just how much there was to forgive,’ he says. ‘We came out of captivity breathing fire and vengeance against the whole Japanese race – all of us believed at that time that it would be impossible ever to forgive them. Yet while every instinct may be screaming at us to hate them for what they did, we have to stifle this natural impulse. We can’t go on hating forever. The happiest people are those who can find it in their hearts to forgive.

“Peace within a person is where it all starts, because the actions of nations are merely the actions of men writ large.”

We can speculate forever about why things happen or why some people do terrible things, but we rarely find the answers we seek. Jesus showed us another way and people like Ray are showing it is possible.

* * *

Thankfully, he’s not alone. Since meeting Ray I’ve met many people who have made forgiveness in a reality in their life. All of them share a desire to make the world a better place, one in which these huge wrongs might never happen in the first place.

It’s a vision that is shared by the Restorative Justice Council, which give victims the chance to tell offenders the real impact of their crime, and holds offenders to account for what they have done, enabling everyone affected by a particular incident to play a part in repairing the harm and finding a positive way forward.

It was through the Restorative Justice Process that Joanne Nodding was able to meet and forgive the man who raped her. She says: ‘Did I hate him? For a while afterwards you could probably say that I did, but you can’t go on living with hate in your heart forever. Well, I can’t anyway. I’m not a person who feels hatred. That feeling isn’t me, or it’s not the me I recognise, and it’s not the me I want to be. Besides, hating him is not going to change what happened.

‘I could sit here, thinking, “God, why has this person done this to me?” Or I could say, “God help me to forgive and help him to have a better life”. Everyone can change and everyone deserves a chance to change. As I see it, I could either hate him for the rest of my life or I could forgive him’.

I can’t begin to understand what Ray and Joanne went through, but the goodness they reflect through their capacity for forgiveness makes me want to live a better life. They’ve made me think about how many opportunities I have each day to either forgive or not, to let go of pain or to let it weigh heavy in my heart.

Do I need to focus on a throwaway remark from a stranger so that it spoils the rest of my day? Can I be more loving, grateful and less critical? Can I focus on the good in people? What I’ve learned is that life can be messy, but we are all given choices every day. In choosing to forgive we are choosing a life of love and gratitude.

Against the Odds: True Stories of Healing and Forgiveness by Carmel Thomason is published by the Bible Reading Fellowship.

Carmel Thomason

Carmel Thomason

Carmel Thomason is a Manchester based writer. She has written Every Moment Counts: A Life of Mary Butterwick (DLT); collaborated with the Archbishop of York, writing the stories for John Sentamu’s Faith Stories; and has contributed to The Way, The Truth and The Life series published by the Teacher’s Enterprise in Education.

Filed Under: In which I forgive Aught against Any (Sigh), random Tagged With: Carmel Thomason, forgiveness, Ray Rossiter

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