The Benefit of Forgiveness

The Real Benefit of Forgiveness

When I first left outside work to raise my kids, I spent my nights and the kids’ nap time crocheting baby clothes, hats and mittens, and toys to sell at craft fairs. It didn’t net me much in income but assuaged my guilt at not contributing to the family budget and met my need for a creative outlet.

Even though difficult to make and time-consuming, I especially enjoyed making a large Winnie-the-Pooh with his little red shirt, Piglet, Eeyore and his gloomy, sad eyes, and Tigger with his ready-to-bounce curly tail—really cute if I say so myself. One set that I donated to our local TV station’s fundraiser did very well.

Taken in by a Con Artist

I took another set to a local craft fair. A young woman bought Pooh and Piglet and paid by check. A half hour later she came back to buy Eeyore and Tigger. I wrote her license number on the checks. They bounced, a sum of over $125.00 plus bank fees, a large amount for me at the time. Come to find out, she’d done the same to other vendors at the fair. We all reported her to the police. Nothing came of it.

Feeling victimized and stupid for falling for her lies, I visualized finding her, showing up, and barging in with righteous wrath to grab back my property. I’d rarely been so angry and disgusted. I tried not to obsess, tried to move on. Didn’t work. I pictured the woman in handcuffs. Then I remembered the little towheaded kids with her.

The Solution

I started praying for them—poor little kids with such a mother. Eventually, I brought her into the prayers, mostly that she be a better mother to them than she was a responsible citizen. When my requests for her well-being became real (took a while), the anger and helpless feeling lessened and finally disappeared. It was one of the most important lessons of my life.

It really is impossible to pray that God watch over people and bless them while hating or being angry at them for an extended period. You don’t condone or whitewash their behavior, but you do wind up forgiving them. How else could your prayer become real?

This may be a case of fake it till you make it, an old phrase that works well here. I prayed for someone whose behavior I despised and who left me feeling helpless to resolve the matter until it became an honest prayer for her welfare. I received in return an amazing peace of mind and sense of personal power. I wouldn’t trade that, even for a return of my property.

The Teacup

The Teacup

Harold cut the blueberry bread he had taken out of the freezer before bed last night and set the not quite even slices on the fading violets covering Irene’s serving plate. He added mugs, Irene’s fancier teacup, and a bowl of lemon wedges to a tray and carried everything out to the screened-in porch.  

“I used the last of the frozen berries for these,” Irene had said as she double-wrapped one of the loaves to prevent freezer burn.

Harold, never Harry to her, had patted her hand. “Fresh’ll be ready in a couple weeks.”

He harvested the first picking of their forty-year-old berry bush in the backyard by himself and wondered at his impatience. The chore never seemed like drudgery when Irene worked beside him. He remembered to place the berries single-layer on a pan in the freezer before jumbling them into bags. That would please her.

He knew Irene didn’t mind the kids picking her up from the hospital instead of him. His gnarled length folded less easily behind the wheel these days, though he had at first balked when Irene suggested that she do most of the daytime driving.

“We’re a team,” she said. “You have better night vision.”

Teamwork, Harold accepted, was the saving grace of their senior years. He set the mugs around the table he’d handmade to fit the porch corner. A light drizzle fell, but after four days of staring at hospital walls, Irene would appreciate being outside. Still, he knew her hands would be achy, something she would try to remedy by stretching her fingers down beside her porch rocker, back and forth, curl and straighten. Harold would wordlessly hold his hand out and know exactly how hers would fit in the curve of his palm as he kneaded the pain away.

Too soon to steep the tea, he sat a moment in his rocker and cradled Irene’s china teacup, etched on the outside with silver pagodas and pine trees, part of a set he’d bought for her while on shore leave in Japan during his five-year world tour in the Navy. Those years apart—visits home had rarely been granted—almost lost him Irene. At first he received a letter every week.

“The town council added two benches to the park,” she wrote. “My sister Nancy got engaged and asked me to be her maid of honor.” 

Harold wrote about the countries where the ship anchored and sketchy details of his life as a mechanic. Only so many interesting things could be said about running machinery that turned salt water into fresh, though he took pride in his efficiency record.

  Irene’s treasured letters started to dwindle and Harold told himself that she was planning her sister’s bridal shower and helping with wedding details. When one letter said, “I am going to the wedding with my brother,” Harold read Irene’s loneliness between the lines.

It took a large chunk of his saved pay to send Irene the china set. The accompanying letter told her he kept one of the cups that had a lady’s face molded into the bottom of the interior. “It comforts me every night to look into this cup and picture your eyes, your smile.”

Harold never regretted the expense. The letters again arrived every week and he and Irene married two months after his return. The only nights they had spent apart had been when they had their three kids and during this hospital stay necessary for Irene to recover from pneumonia.

Harold’s phone pinged and the text read that the kids and Irene were five minutes away. He hauled himself up from the rocker and returned to the kitchen to pour steaming water into the readied teapot. He breathed in the familiar Earl Grey and carried the teapot out to the porch. He once again picked up Irene’s teacup. A fine crackling in the delicate veneer lined the lady’s still beautiful face.

“Yeah, the old girl’s held up just fine.” A car pulled into the drive. Harold opened an umbrella and went out to welcome Irene home.

  

The Vote on Marijuana

The Vote on Marijuana

I support the legalization of marijuana but hope we do our homework and pass the necessary laws about its use to avoid unintended consequences and ensure the benefits outweigh the risks.

Problems with Legalization

I watched an interesting program on 60 Minutes about what Colorado has learned since legalizing the use of marijuana. In one county, sales have created 1,300 jobs and sixty new businesses, which sounds impressive until you hear that most counties don’t allow the production and sale of recreational marijuana. This one county is reconsidering its status on the subject as well. The black market is still thriving and organized crime is creating problems in the county as they attempt to grow the plant in a legal state and transport it out—at double the price—to states where it is still illegal.

The birth of babies with the hallucinogenic THC from marijuana in their systems has risen dramatically. When asked, most mothers believe using marijuana during pregnancy is fine since it is used for medical purposes. Experts haven’t enough research evidence to know all the ramifications of how marijuana affects the growing brain, though they know it certainly does have an effect and highly recommend that anyone under twenty-one not be allowed to use it. The brain can continue to grow until the age of twenty-five.

Colorado is compiling data on the effect of Marijuana use on drivers and has some rise in accidents with people under its influence. The problem is partly that laws governing the use of alcohol do not translate well to the use of marijuana. Once alcohol clears the system, it has no further effect. Marijuana leaves residue in the fatty tissues, which includes the brain. How that may affect behavior still needs to be decided. The potency of today’s marijuana is four to five times higher today than in the eighties according to 60 Minutes, and experts advise careful labeling so people know exactly what they are buying.

The Benefits of Legalization

There is an advertisement airing now where an official from the state of Washington, which legalized the recreational use of marijuana, states that the financial benefits to schools and the police department have made the law worthwhile. No one debates that the taxes from legal sales and not having to prosecute and jail users and sellers will benefit state budgets and public services.

The illegal stigma of using marijuana will be gone, though I hope everyone can agree that like tobacco, it should not be used in indoor public arenas or where children can breathe it in. Personally, I hate the smell of both products and hope users are courteous to non-users.

Those who use marijuana for medical purposes should have an easier time acquiring what they need. The confusion and delay of making medical marijuana available has left a lot of people still buying it illegally in Massachusetts.

As with most social changes, we have to look at more than the financial benefits. We need to be aware of and prepare for possible problems. They aren’t insurmountable.