A Mouse, and the Conundrum of Forgiveness

I don’t hate the mouse that is running around my apartment. In fact, I’ve only seen it once, and it appeared to be as frightened of me as I was of it. It’s fall, and little critters (like the rest of us) are just looking for a way to survive the bitter winter. This particular bold rodent happened upon a way into my cozy space and decided to take up residence. Who could blame it – I have a nifty and warm place. I’ve forgiven the little thing for moving in, but let’s face it, a mouse is simply not wanted. Does forgiveness require that I live with the mouse? I don’t think so. Therefore, I’m going to set a trap for it, without rancor (but with some squeamishness).

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Which gives me pause to think about forgiveness in other circumstances. If someone has harmed me or hurt me, and the harm or hurt is real (not simply a matter of pettiness), how far do I have to take this forgiveness thing? Can I forgive without forgetting? Is it forgiveness if I can’t return to former feelings of liking or respect for the individual? Have I forgiven someone if I remain unwilling to allow them close enough to hurt me again? Have I forgiven them if the experience continues to color my judgement of their words or behaviors? Can I forgive a person but still not welcome them back into my life?

These are important questions. The kind of questions for which easy answers are rarely forthcoming. But I had to give it a shot, right? I googled “quotes about forgiveness” and found the sort of wisdom you might expect:

“Always forgive your enemies, nothing annoys them so much.” – Oscar Wilde
“Forgiveness is the fragrance the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it.” –Mark Twain
“The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong.” – Mahatma Gandhi

These statements aren’t much good for those of us seeking some practical insight or advice about forgiving and moving on. Then I came upon this:

“Forgiveness means it finally becomes unimportant that you hit back.” ― Anne Lamott

Perfect! A measurement I can really use. I don’t need to hit back. Does that mean I’m finished? Unfortunately, I’ve never been the type of person who hits back. I’m more the “stand-with-mouth-haning-open-and-mind-suddenly-blank” type. So lacking the urge to hit back may not be the best measure of whether I’ve forgiven someone. But it’s a good start.

“Forgiveness must be immediate, whether or not a person asks for it. Trust must be rebuilt over time. Trust requires a track record.” ― Rick Warren

Forgiveness does not require that I immediately trust the individual again. Trust requires a track record, and IF I continue to be in direct relationship with this individual that record needs to be established. In fairness, this idea of a track record also means that if the hurtful/harmful behavior is an anomaly in a relationship of demonstrated trust, then trust might be called for sooner rather than later. Clearly, one sign that we’ve actually forgiven someone is that we’re able to regard them with fairness.

You may already have guessed that these questions, and my search for answers, are not purely academic in nature. I’ve always believed myself to be good with the forgiveness thing – but in the past, forgiveness hasn’t posed much of a problem because I was dealing with family and dearly loved friends. These individuals forgive me, and I forgive them, easily and often. The experience of forgiveness directed toward someone who was not emotionally as close but whose ability to hurt me was still high is a new one for me. I believe that forgiveness is key for my own growth and ability to move forward in life – which is why I am spending time living with these questions. And even though there is a specific application in this case, it never hurts to revisit our beliefs about such important life questions as the nature of forgiveness.

In the meantime, I have some business to resolve with a little mouse.

Good Omens

“Factual information alone isn’t sufficient to guide you through life’s labyrinthine tests.  You need and deserve regular deliveries of uncanny revelation.  One of your inalienable rights as a human being should therefore be to receive a mysteriously useful omen every day of your life.”  —Rob Brezsny

“There is no such thing as an omen. Destiny does not send us heralds. She is too wise or too cruel for that.”  — Oscar Wilde

*     *     *     *     *     *     *

On the day I arrived in Minneapolis, two small things occurred which seemed to be signs that I had made the right decision to come here.

At 5:00 p.m. on Monday, I exited I35W into downtown Minneapolis, four lanes of busy traffic surrounding me as people began the mad rush home from their workdays. I was listening to local radio Cities 97 and, as my tires literally crossed from the freeway to the exit ramp, Sara Barielles“Brave” – my unofficial theme song for the summer – came blaring through my car’s speakers. I was singing along, buoyed by the lyrics, “…Maybe there’s a way out of the cage where you live, maybe one of these days you can let the light in, Show me how big your brave is…”, when the car in front of me in the left turn lane died. The light ahead turned red. I looked in my rearview mirror, to my right, and felt the claustrophobia of being hemmed in by hundreds of vehicles along with the certainty that I’d be stuck there all night. My car was loaded down with stuff from my storage unit, my bicycle dangling off the back end, and I made a split second decision — before the light changed, I was going to signal my intent. I cranked the wheel, flipped on the turn signal and nosed slightly into the next lane. And when we got the green, I was able to smoothly pull around the disabled vehicle without eliciting a single honk or appearance of road rage from the other drivers. Good omen number one – check.

My new landlady, C., is friendly and kind and fairly conscientious. Also quite a talker. It took well over an hour to go over the apartment, the lease, and the Minnesota tenant/landlord requirements. By then, we both forgot the exchange of keys that was to take place! Luckily, once outside the house, C. put a hand in her pocket looking for her car keys and discovered mine. When she came back, there was a tutorial about the keys – I didn’t want to seem impatient, but seriously, folks: after a long career in residence life on a college campus, I am a flipping key expert and can easily handle the four new ones (garage for bike storage, mailbox, security door, apartment) she gave me!

In the middle of my time with C., Mike arrived home. Mike – who went from long-distance friend to upstairs neighbor and lifeline with my signature on C.’s lease – helped me finish unloading my car. We separated to shower, then met up again for dinner to celebrate my first night as a Minneapolitan. We went to a wine bar/restaurant I had never been to before and, as it was an incredibly beautiful evening, snagged the last outdoor table. As we sat there, sipping our fruit water and waiting for our healthy “small plates” orders (which, as is our habit, we intended to share so we would both enjoy the collard greens, arugula, pancetta and Spanish cheese) we lapsed into a companionable silence.

My mind began to range back over the previous two months – from submitting my resignation through to that entire Monday – and I was completely overwhelmed by the number of seriously, profoundly, joyful moments encompassed within that time span. Heartfelt and sincere exchanges of love and respect with colleagues and friends; the most deeply soul-satisfying farewell celebration with friends at Molly’s; the safe travels and great times with my family in New Mexico; the quick visit back to Cedar Rapids and quality time with the Dennis’ and several friends (none of which felt crammed or cramped into the four days I was there); coffee and lunch with my brother Jeff’s family in Cedar Falls on my way to Minneapolis. The past two months have, quite literally, been the most amazing and beautiful time of my entire life. I feel almost greedy in, looking forward, hoping that this wonderful streak will continue through the move this coming weekend and RAGBRAI at the end of the month, and on to finding a job so I can really settle into my new home.

Obviously, people can debate forever whether omens and portents truly exist. If you know me, or have been reading Jenion for a while, you know I am an inveterate reader of signs. I believe that our intuition often knows better what is right for us than our thinking brains. Our egos and personas, filled with the “shoulds” and “oughts” we’ve internalized over the years, can often be just so much static, preventing clear signals from penetrating to our core. Intuition can sometimes help by taking us beyond the fear and paralysis that our “practical” brain (and its tendency toward circuitous thinking) leads us into. Which isn’t to say I believe in jumping into things based on a hunch and no careful thinking or planning. Only that both pieces are important in putting together the puzzle of our choices to make a full picture of our lives.

When I came back to the present after these recollections and musings, our al fresco dinner was finished. We hadn’t actually licked the plates clean, but it was close! Mike and I both felt like ambulating, so we drove over to Lake of the Isles for a walk. At the lake, the lovely hush of summer dusk was in full swing. As we got out of his car, Mike said, “Jeni, look up!”  When I did, the late evening sky was a breathtaking and deep violet-blue. And there, right in the middle of the sky, framed by the trees ringing the lake, was an X formed by criss-crossing jet contrails. I couldn’t help it, I immediately cried out, “X marks the spot!”

To me, those vapory white lines of water crystals in the sky appeared to be exactly that – the destination on a global-sized pirate map. A giant X marking the exact spot where my treasure will be found: Minneapolis, Minnesota. Good omen number two – check.

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Standing in the doorway of my new apartment on Monday afternoon. Photo courtesy of Mike, who wanted to reshoot it once he learned I planned to use it today! But I like this authentic, first day, commemoration!