All the Miracle about Sub-conscious Forgiveness.
Our hearts melted into one another’s in instant recognition through that first hug. Two bodies reunited after 36 years…two spirits that had never been separated. The gap of time was instantly filled during that certain moment of reunion. The bond of mother and daughter cannot be broken. Only shame, guilt, and remorse fed the fire of apparent separation. Only forgiveness would dowse the flames and complete the circle of love.
Thirty-six years before, I had given birth to my first daughter and then released her for adoption. Suffering from a heart broken by your decision to honor my parents’ wishes that I not marry my first love, I emerged from being an “unwed mother” with emotional scars so excellent that my only defense was to bury them deeply, pick up my life as though nothing had happened, and go on. So successful was my denial of the gaping hole in my heart that, as the years passed, I possibly could not remember my child’s birth date.
How was it possible then, some 30 years, four children and two marriages later, that I possibly could find myself in a class of spiritual counseling students that had six other women who shared the same closely held past that I did? We were all birth mothers best a course in miracles podcast. Our secret became our magnet, and we began to meet and vision a ministry at our church that might prayerfully support all individuals who are afflicted with adoption: adoptees, birthparents and adoptive parents. It had been a noble idea, and one that could require that individuals do our own healing work to be able to be offered to others.
And so we began the excruciating journey of dredging up our pain. We individually faced our own demons — guilt, shame, blame, anger and self-recrimination — at whatever pace we felt effective at moving, and collectively we prayed for one another and all those whose pain we share. We created the Adoption Triad Ministry at The Agape Center of Truth in Los Angeles and invited people touched by adoption ahead and tell their stories and interact prayer each month. We opened the way to allow each member of the triad — adoptee, adoptive parent and birth parent — to dialog with another, seeking an comprehension of the unique emotional issues that each carries. And some people searched to locate our child and/or parent. My decision to try to look for my daughter exposed my own Pandora’s box.
It had been in that atmosphere of prayer and spiritual guidance that I felt safe enough to face my own, personal walls of defense and denial and try to create them down. The process was agonizing. Not only was I delving into the shame and pain I had caused my parents and siblings by learning to be a pregnant teenager, I was allowing to surface the hatred I held for myself for devoid of fought for what I wanted…my mate and my baby. What I was inviting into conscious awareness – and ultimately acceptance – were the shame and guilt of having sinned, in line with the church of my childhood in addition to the mores of society in 1961. I was admitting that I was filled up with rage at my parents for interrupting my fantasy to really have the perfect family, and at my boyfriend for devoid of fought harder to save lots of me from this torturous sentence of a banished offender. During the look for my daughter, I was required on numerous occasions to recall those difficult circumstances surrounding her birth, and it absolutely was all I possibly could do to keep from passing out. As I unleashed one tidal wave after another of suppressed feelings, I was constantly on the verge of emotional overwhelm. What kept me going was my deep, deep desire to locate my daughter, to inform her simply how much I loved her, to talk about with her that she was conceived in love, and to complete the circle that began with her birth.
And so I searched…and I prayed…and I begun to forgive. As I progressed through the classes in spirituality that were preparing me to be a spiritual counselor and prayer practitioner, I came to appreciate that without forgiveness I’d struggle to free myself from the maze of negative self-judgment which I had permitted to tarnish the beauty of the birth of my daughter. I understood that when I were to welcome her with true open arms now, I had to obtain the good in my being her birth mother. I knew that the healing miracle I so dearly sought was possible only when I released my guilt, shame and blame in regards to the circumstances surrounding her getting into this world.
“Seventy times seven.” Jesus admonishes us that this is the way often we need to forgive to be able to be free — in other words, normally because it takes. I was well on my method to completing my forgiveness of another actors in my drama — my parents, my first love, my church, my society. Now it absolutely was time and energy to forgive myself. I had held myself on the cross of self-blame and shame for way too long that I wasn’t sure how exactly to let myself off.
I began by feeling great compassion for the teenager I was who had been so in love and so passionate about life, and who only wanted to have and express that love at all she knew how. I listened to that particular 19-year-old’s pain of profound loss and of feeling that she didn’t belong. That pain have been so severe that she’d essentially shut herself faraway from trusting her own beautiful heart. I listened to her, consoled her, shared with her simply how much I loved her and that I would not allow that kind of pain happen to her again. The I AM of me (my God Self) forgave her for any belief she held about being a “bad girl,” a “sinner,” an “undesirable good-for-nothing,” and a “reason behind pain to others.”
The months — and yes, years — that I have spent forgiving the layers of self-recrimination and loathing I felt for myself have truly unburdened me. Freeing myself from the shackles of that seemingly unforgivable and unforgiving past has truly given me a fresh life. The attitude I now hold toward myself, my loved ones, my first love and my pregnancy is just gratitude, gratitude for one of many greatest growth experiences of my life. By coming to terms with my past, the gift of compassion was ignited in me — something special I could and do readily tell all those I teach and counsel. The miracle experienced from my commitment to forgiveness could be the profound love I tell my first-born daughter, a love activated the minute we hugged that has continued to enrich my life ever since.