The Gift of Forgiveness

As a young widow, I attended an excellent grief group at my church. I remember the first time I heard Pastor Ike Rieghard say that part of the grieving process would be the need to exercise "extreme forgiveness." I was surprised by that. Yet, as time passed, I've realized that many who are impacted by different types of loss will experience numerous opportunities to forgive. The two are irrevocably intertwined.

People in pain are profoundly vulnerable. People encountering people in pain often wish to help, but their frame of reference or personal brokenness sometimes gets in the way. Instead of helping, their words and actions inadvertently hurt us. From the overflow of their hearts come the words of their mouths, and the fearful specter of loss loosens many tongues. They are desperate to understand the purpose of this painful event and may also be grappling with the secret fear that this circumstance could happen to them. Few are the precious friends who courageously walk into the room of loss as others are hastily walking out. 

For the widow or widower, there is also the barrage of endless, unmet expectations. You should have had more insurance. Mourned longer. Gotten over it sooner. Set personal grief aside and lived completely for your children. Seen a counselor. Taken meds. Lived alone with God and the memory of your spouse... forever. Kept a clone of yourself in the closet and been able to seamlessly accomplish the work of two parents without fatigue. Provided each child with a car, college education, and starter home. Been sinless, fearless, and superhuman. After all, since you are a follower of Jesus Christ, you must be like Mary Poppins... practically perfect in every way, right? 

Wrong. Oh, so wrong... 

As time passes, we eventually realize that we must also forgive ourselves for failing in more ways than we ever imagined possible as we blindly stumbled about in the throes of grief. How could we have fumbled the ball so badly when we were earnestly sitting at the coach's feet every time we could get to the locker room for instruction? Poor judgment is often amplified during times of loss, and one can be left with a mountain of self-recrimination. "I should have said or done this. I should not have said or done that. What in the world was I thinking when I..." 

The ability to forgive is a gift from God. Much like salvation, forgiveness is a free-will decision that we may either embrace or reject. Like salvation, forgiveness also has many cleverly crafted counterfeits hot off the enemy's forge. Only by drawing closer to the Cross can we receive the desire, humility, and courage to forgive and the discernment to determine whether we are choosing the illusion or the reality of true forgiveness. 

The first counterfeit is the all-too-human attempt of "one and done" forgiveness. "I will give you a second chance, but if you fail me again, we are done!" There is nothing Biblical about this impossible standard of perfection and a far cry from Christ's directive to forgive "seventy times seven."

Next is elephantine forgiveness. "You can ask for my forgiveness and pay me back many times over for what you have done. I will say that I forgive you, but I will NEVER forget this. Not only will I bring this up often, but I will also discuss your failure to meet my expectations with others. You owe me... forever!" 

Then there is prodigal forgiveness. "I will forgive you and restore fellowship with you if you say you are sorry and then show me repentance by your actions." This one is actually Scriptural, as seen in Luke 15, but even this magnanimous gesture is not God's best. 

The gold standard of God's love is unconditional forgiveness. "Though you are unable at this time to see your wrongful actions, and though you are unable to repent, ask forgiveness and turn from the error of your ways, I forgive you right now. I will keep no record of this wrong. I give up my right to feel hurt and angry. I will pray for you and will not rejoice in any further hurts you might experience. I will protect your reputation as if it were my own. Though we are still not reconciled, our story is not finished yet." That level of forgiveness is what Christ demonstrated on the Cross. It is the ultimate expression of love, for "While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us," Romans 5:8.

Unconditional forgiveness is a challenging but attainable goal. It's 600 level Christianity that requires daily prayer and intentional effort. To quote my favorite author, Jan Karon, "Love is an endless act of forgiveness." May we all strive to humbly forgive one another just as we need to be forgiven. 

Kay O'Hara
December 14, 2017

Planet Earth: On Loan to Humans

They are sea lions, NOT seals.

I took two cameras and those children who were well enough to enjoy a sedate walk down to the pier in order to get a closer look. The sign said "DANGER: BEWARE OF SEA LIONS ON DOCKS." This, of course, was accompanied by sufficient graphic art to insure that anyone not possessed of the English language would be without excuse should they approach and consequently be maimed by a sea lion.

Ah.

At this point, I scanned the parking lot and waited for a native to show up and give me the inside story. A few minutes later, I hit the jackpot.

Apparently the sea lions migrate down here all the way from Alaska by the thousands (there are only a hundred or so at the moment--still a bit early in the season) to bask in the relative mildness of an Oregon bay winter. As to the specter of danger, they have been known to take entire chunks out of tourists stupid enough to "go down for a closer shot." The natives treat them with the type of respect one would usually accord a Polar bear. They give the sea lions a very wide berth, timing the morning departure of the fleet until most of the herd have headed across to a nearby breakwater for a change of scenery.

Now, I find myself wondering how the fishermen get off their boats at the end of the day and back into their waiting cars. With cattle prods? I think I may have actually made that inquiry at some point, but was drowned out by the incessant "ark, Ark, ARK!" in front of us. 

Amazing.

Wildlife. Everywhere we have traveled, wildlife! Elk goring golfers at Estes Park in August. Bears chowing down on back country hikers at Yellowstone in September while buffalo toss teenagers up into the trees. Now there are sea lions calling the shots down at the docks here in Astoria. Whew! The Northwest can be a dangerous place.

Of course, Atlanta has its own native hazard.

We call them fire ants.

Kay O'Hara
Astoria, Oregon
October 1, 2002

"Wait" is not a Four-Letter Word

"Love is patient..." 1 Corinthians 13: 1

To be patient is to wait. But for me, "wait" has been a dirty, miserable, four-letter word for most of my life. 

You see, I was a card-carrying member of the instant gratification club. Like Violet in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, I wanted an Oompa Loompa, and I wanted it NOW. 

Only recently--this year, in fact--have I been willing to disengage my impatient spirit and quietly wait upon the LORD's perfect timing. 

It took a brother in Christ and compassionate leader to teach me this lesson. Jim has gone on before me in this battle. He wrestled with God in solitude for years, doing the work of faith and obedience until this truth was revealed in his own life. 

When it came time to impart this wisdom to me, Jim stood resolutely and quietly through my chest-pounding, childish storms of angst and misery as I wailed for things that were clearly not yet in God's timing. Jim held his ground until I exhausted myself, then knelt beside me and gently began sharing the truth about the beauty of waiting on God.

I didn't want to listen to his words.

"Live in the moment. Relish what you have right now... don't waste a minute longing for what you do not yet have. Thank God for everything--all of it--today, whether it is provision, position, possessions, or relationships. Focus on His goodness. Embrace the abundance. Appreciate it. This is God's perfect will for you, right now. It is His best. If you don't have something, He knows that this person, place, thing, or experience you are longing for will not edify you yet--perhaps never will. Trust Him. Thank Him. Be at peace. Be still and reflect.

Kay, we are experiencing a banquet of God's wonderful Providence before us. Don't run past the other delightful dishes on the table in your haste to get to the dessert. The dessert is only a very small part of the meal. These other marvelous delights that have been uncovered and offered to us are nourishing, filling, and wonderfully tasty in their own right. Enjoy these for a season."

He was right. 

I am thankful for the forty miles between us at this season in our lives and the limited amount of time we have to be together. I am grateful for this seemingly endless "Saturday" in our relationship, where we must focus first on the continuing needs of the young people we are still raising. I am committed to wait with more patience, grace, trust. I will have faith in what I cannot yet see, and I will not hurry past the abundance that has already been placed for me. 

Coming Out of the Closet

Hi. My name is Kay O’Hara, and I am coming out of the closet. I am tired of hiding who I really am. 

Top of the list? I am a Christian. I believe Jesus Christ is the Son of God, and I had a personal encounter with the LORD thirty-something years ago that has forever changed my life. As a result of this, my worldview is one that often gets sifted through the Bible, which I believe to be Inspired and Inerrant. I prefer an eternal perspective, for I believe all of us are going to live somewhere—either in fellowship with the one true God or apart from Him—forever.

I believe in the sanctity of life from conception to the grave. Though I have fallen short of the mark, I also believe in one marriage between man and woman until death parts us. I am respectful and appreciative of how God designed men in general and filled with admiration for one in particular, and that is my husband, Jim Heinz.

I believe God has created from one blood all nations of men. Although our skin color and cultures may be different, He created you with a glorious purpose, and your value is no less than my own.

I am a flawed creature, who just wants to be more like Jesus every day: loving, forgiving, and humble. If you don’t know me well enough yet to know how sinful I am, just wait a minute. I am a broken person who has been at the helm in everything from failed relationships to financial foolishness. To be honest, although I believe in a perfect, sinless Savior I am not sure you could ever meet a poorer representative of what it means to be a Christian.

I do know how to say, “I am sorry.” “I made a mistake.” “Please forgive me.” I am often painfully aware of where I missed the mark, and no one is harder on me than myself. Having said that, hope springs eternal in me. To quote a lead character from Anne of Green Gables, “Tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes in it,” and although I am aware that I will not pass through it without messing up, I sure want to try.

Lastly, I have been heartbroken about what this recent election revealed about the character and intolerance of many I know and a few I love. The results did not divide us. We were already divided but not being honest about it. Many like me were just too polite and respectful—sometimes even fearful—to say, “I believe in something different than you.” Back in November, I pulled the lever for Pence, because of my faith and values. Donald Trump—a relative unknown to me—just happened to be on his ticket. Now that both are in leadership, they are receiving my prayers, support, and opinion.

I interact with many people who don’t share my beliefs or orientation and am often challenged to rethink the validity of both. This is a good thing. Having said that, I don’t care to be disrespected or ridiculed for my faith or values. I have a low tolerance for bullying, meanness, and harsh language. I also believe in free but respectful speech. While your voice, contributions, and purpose matter, mine do, too.  

So this is who I am. Keep me or delete me, but in the interest of full disclosure, if you didn’t know these things about me, you do now. My name is Kay O’Hara, and I am done with hiding in the closet. 

March 8, 2017

Tales of Sweet William: Love Looks Like a Tow Chain

Dear Sarah,

I've been waiting for one of Atlanta's rare winter storm warnings to share this story. It is especially for you.

It was eleven-fifteen at night, and meteorologist Bob Caldwell from WLOS in Asheville was confidently calling for snow--lots of snow--for the Western North Carolina mountains. Your dad watched the weather report intently from our little house in Clyde and then rose from his recliner to turn off the TV. He walked out of the living room and began rummaging around the bedroom. I could hear him opening dresser drawers and closet doors. After a few minutes, he returned, snagged his heavy coat off the hallway peg, and then strode out into the garage.

"What's up?" I asked as I poked my head out the door and watched with interest. Bill lifted a heavy set of seldom-used tire chains off the wall and laid them out on the floor of the garage. A moment later, he draped a massive tow chain across his shoulders like a steel Anaconda and turned to face me.

Bill smiled. "You'll see. Now, go back inside. It's freezing out here. I'll be in shortly." He reached past me, pressed the button that set the overhead garage door opener in motion and went out into the cold, rainy night.

The year was 1983. Your dad and I had been married for just a few months, so we were still discovering new things about each other. While Bill was outside, I glanced at his job calendar. He was a self-employed master electrician at the time and kept all of his appointments written down there. Did he have an urgent electrical contract to complete in the morning that could not be rescheduled?

Not that I could tell.

"I don't think you'll be going to school tomorrow," Bill remarked casually after he returned and hung his dripping coat up to dry. "The wind is picking up and the temperature is dropping fast." While no school would be sweet, I had lived in the mountains long enough to know that my college classes might simply be delayed, so I still laid out my dental hygiene uniform and set my alarm.

We finished our evening chores and went to bed soon after midnight. As I was drifting off to sleep, I heard the rain change into sleet. I sat up in bed to listen as it began frantically tapping on the bedroom windows. The sheers stirred slightly as gusts of wind whistled past outside. Your dad reached over to the electric blanket control and turned it up to seven. Then he rolled over and snagged me close. "Go to sleep. It'll be fine," he murmured into my hair.

The next morning I awoke later than usual to the smell of brewing coffee. My alarm had been turned off, and it was already getting light outside. Seth, who was four, was still sleeping soundly under a mound of blankets, so I closed his bedroom door and went out to the living room. Bill was standing at the kitchen counter decked out in his heavy Carhartt jumpsuit making peanut butter sandwiches. Thick gloves and a ski cap lay on the dining table next to his tall contractor's Thermos and lunchbox.

I lifted the curtain on the back porch door and peered out into a blue-white winter wonderland. Icicles hung down from tree limbs and power lines, and most of the normally visible landmarks in our yard were now nondescript mounds of snow.

"There's a layer of ice and four inches of snow already on the ground. It's not going to stop until tonight. Then it is going to freeze like a rock," Bill said. "The school closings have been scrolling on the TV since five this morning, so you two won't be going anywhere today."

"Are you?" I asked, moving over to the wood stove that was already blazing. I warmed my hands appreciatively and took note of the large stack of firewood that was waiting in the bin. He had definitely been up for a while.

"'Oh, yeah." Bill replied with a boyish grin on his face."The roads are a mess."

While such a statement might have struck fear into the hearts of other brides, I had complete confidence in Bill's judgment. The man had more common sense than anyone I knew. Though he had grown up in Florida, your dad understood what it took to safely navigate winter road conditions in the mountains. His four-wheel-drive work truck was perfect for the job. He had recently equipped it with an old-fashioned steel fireman's ladder in order to do some lighting work, and the weight of that massive contraption gave the truck additional traction on the icy highway.

After breakfast, I stood on the front step and watched as Bill slipped Big Red into gear and eased it down the steep hill of our subdivision. He began slowly cruising up and down the roads near the house looking for people who might need help.

Your dad spent the entire day pulling vehicles out of ditches, rescuing folks from stranded cars, and lending a helping hand to anyone in need. By the time he finally came in for the night, his Thermos was empty, the sandwiches were gone, and his clothes and boots were so encrusted with snow and ice that he had to shuck out of them in the garage before he came into the house.

Bill O'Hara was one exhausted but happy man. During a time before cell phone technology existed, he had managed to single-handedly assist dozens of people and get them to safety. My favorite part was the fact that although people tried their best to ignore his wishes, no tipping was allowed.

Your dad was an everyday hero, Sarah. He absolutely loved helping people. I wouldn't be at all surprised if he's the one who passed some of these same character qualities on down to our Blue Line girl. He'd be so proud of you, Honey.

You be careful out there now.

Much love,

Moohm