When I read Lucille Clifton’s “forgiving my father” poem, I was struck with deep resonance on how profoundly I related to it.  I realized that it actually ended up setting a framework for how I could track and understand my own (rocky) process of forgiving my own father.  I came to a few realizations about the process of forgiveness – both from the poem and my own struggle with it. So, in honor of this year’s Father’s Day, a day when we can reflect on our perfect, all-providing Heavenly Father, but also a day when we can acknowledge the grief in how perhaps our earthly fathers fell short, I would like to share what I realized here.

A couple of months ago, I was attending a women’s retreat... where glossy tiles of neutrals and shades of blue formed a gorgeous mosaic of the Blessed Mother. I kept returning my gaze to it, and I heard in prayer: “I see you looking at my mother—her maternal love is so different from what you have seen… My mother is tender, approachable, truly sacrificial, and only able to love fully and purely…”

This healing journey has been bittersweet for me. I have come to grips with the fact that I am a survivor of child abuse. The term still brings tears to my eyes and probably will for a very long time, only because it can sometimes make me feel like a broken doll, or what may be a more popular term, “damaged goods.”