When Forgiveness Heals the Forgiver

This is a guest blog post by John Prin, who nearly 40 years ago helped me launch my career as a professional writer.

John Prin, during a visit to our home several years back.

If you are like many people, someone in your life has hurt you deeply in the past and you have struggled with feelings of anger, resentment and perhaps rage. Possibly you have buried or denied such fierce emotions over time and still hold a grudge that, when triggered, arouses fury. Harboring stormy emotions like these has become a burden, an aggravation that weighs on you and adds to your grief and sense of injustice. 

One day a good friend suggests an action available to you, to forgive. “No way! Not a chance!” you howl. But . . . But what if . . . What if you actually forgave that person? Fully. Whole-heartedly. No strings. Today’s blogpost offers such a story.

It starts when I was a boy of eleven facing a disturbing change: my parents relocated from our cherished home in Minneapolis to the outskirts of exurbia where they built a new oversized house on the wooded shore of a small lake. I came to discover that the move was largely because of my mother’s oversized ego and her need to show off the family’s rising career status and her own artistic decorating and gardening prowess. In short order, I said goodbye to classmates and playmates, then started sixth grade at a new “country” school seven distant miles away.

Until now my Mom had enjoyed hosting parties and celebrating annual festivities like Christmas, Halloween, and Easter as well as birthday parties and summer picnics. She was a typical loving mom in my brothers’ lives and my own. As for Dad, we all noticed his health was failing, just at the time when his career and reputation was rising in the eyes of his employer and clients.

Then “it” happened.

At the two-acre lot where construction of the new house was underway, Mom ordered me and my brothers Dave and Tom to move a grove of birch trees 150 yards to the lakeshore. Why? So she would enjoy viewing them someday through the then-imaginary picture window. We boys looked at Dad, who shrugged meekly, and our visit turned into a workday. Amid the natural wild beauty of the lake, the sunny day turned hot and we boys sweated in our T-shirts as we uprooted nineteen young trees, hauled them in a wheelbarrow, dug deep holes 150 yards away, and replanted them… all day until dark. I recall Dave saying, “She’s so bossy!” I nodded. “She must think we’re her slaves!”

Any project for Mom entailed working long hours, like the time Dave and I were told to tile the entire ground floor of the house. This meant covering 1800 square feet—a large rec room, a utility room, a furnace room, and a long hallway connecting them—with square one-foot vinyl tiles. We stared at the boxes of floor tiles on the bare concrete floor and a five-gallon bucket of black, sticky glue. Mom departed, leaving us to fend for ourselves with no clue about how or where to start. It was now a year later and Dad couldn’t even supervise because he was hospitalized on and off with complications from diabetes and neuropathy (and eventually an amputated leg). In all, the tiling took ten days, after school each day and on weekends.

More endless projects kindled hatred within me, deep hatred. Life in that fancy house became warped by Mom’s ambitions, all while her boys’ needs were neglected to meet her demands. Eventually, the family’s finances tanked and Dad took months off from work on medical leave.

During my college years, and later when I landed work in California’s TV industry, I put as much distance as possible (thousands of miles, months of silence) between myself and the mother I could not—could never—forgive. Dad’s death sparked the forced sale of “Mom’s palace on the pond.” When 25, I married a sweet, kind-hearted woman.

Twelve years passed.

Often my rage simmered in my soul and, when triggered, boiled over. One day a good friend responded to my intense agitation when I complained about how futile and wretched human life was. His name was Joe Steward, a Midwesterner like me with stars in his eyes for Hollywood fame; acting was his dream, screenwriting was mine. Too many rejections of my dramatic scripts over six years had soured my hopes for a movie career, and now I felt stymied.

“You’re mad at Hollywood like I am, John,” Joe said. “But it’s really because you’re not part of God's plan.”

     Shocked, I stammered, “God? Huh? What the . . . ?”

     “God wants to help you and has a plan for your life. But maybe it’s not screenwriting.”

     “A plan? Since when?”

     “Since his son Jesus walked the earth.”

     “Oh boy, are you serious?”

     After more back-and-forth, he uttered, “Jesus loves you, John. Know Jesus. Know God.”

This out-of-nowhere news flabbergasted me. I doubted, I debated, I fretted. During my growing-up years, my parents had never attended church, and God’s name, when spoken at home, ended in profanity. Joe’s suggestion that my feelings of powerlessness were spiritual confounded me, yet emotionally—like those powerless years as a teenager in Mom’s orbit—I sensed in my heart he was right. In a leap of faith, I dedicated my life to Jesus Christ.

Life flip-flopped from despair to euphoria. My wife and I located a welcoming church community where the believers’ love of Christ revitalized us. As I learned to pray, to worship, to read Scripture and be baptized, a light-hearted spirit lifted my woeful moods. My wife’s own journey of faith accompanied mine day by day.

“While walking under the sign I heard the voice...."

A year went by during which the memories of Mom’s abuse still lingered. Every so often I went for walks on a footpath along the base of the towering H-O-L-L-Y-W-O-O-D sign—until the day I was walking alone and heard a voice in my head say, Forgive your mother. Startled, I stopped. Again the voice said, Forgive your mother. “No way! Impossible! It’s not fair!”

I drove home and told my wife, “Twice the voice said, Forgive your mother.” 

She replied, “Sounds like a good idea!” 

I growled, “No, I could never do that.” 

For the next few days, I brought up every objection possible with the Lord: Mom did not deserve forgiveness, she hadn’t apologized or admitted her faults, her behavior had made Dad miserable, my own hurt was too deep.

During a sermon, I heard a Bible verse that stirred me to the core: “Get rid of all bitterness and wrath and anger . . . forgive one another as God in Christ has forgiven you.” (Ephesians 4: 31) Oh boy, now what? So simple, so difficult. Yet, when I reflected on God’s freely offered forgiveness for my sins and misdeeds, something rigid inside me softened.

That day I knelt on the ground, and spoke aloud: “Mom, I … I … forgive … you.” Sobs welled up within me and tears exploded from my eyes. Huge waves of sorrow and grief dislodged from my soul like tons of lead. Years of ugly, murderous grudges dissolved right there in the Lord’s presence. Over time, memories of my younger Mom the first ten years of my life replaced the long history of my painful anger.

A bonus occurred that Christmas. With my wife and 5-year old daughter, I flew home to visit Mom. Although I had insisted on minimal contact for years, it was my idea to return and reconcile with her. As a widow for 14 years who’d never remarried, it was clear she had reflected on her past behavior and gained emotional insights into the feelings of others.

We knocked on the same door I had slammed behind me the day I swore to never return. When the door opened, Mom’s face lit up in a smile as she greeted us. Seeing my beaming face, she blurted out, “Johnny, you’ve changed! You look happy!”

“Yes, Mom, I’ve changed. I love you.”

Abruptly, her hands covered her face and she gasped, “That’s the first nice thing I’ve heard you boys say in twenty years!” Teary-eyed, she reached for my hands. “You really love me?”

“Yes, Mom. I’ve forgiven you.”

“Forgiven me . . .?”

I hugged her tenderly, then put my arm around her as we walked to the living room where we sat together. I confided how God had helped me let go of the decades of pain and anger, and she curled up in my arms as she welcomed the rekindled love I felt for her.

* * * 

During his career John Howard Prin has specialized in helping people who are recovering from addictions to experience the joys and rewards of lifelong recovery. John's talents as an addictions counselor and educator have motivated individuals in recovery groups and treatment centers to stay sober nationwide. You can visit his Amazon author page here.

Jane Kim Shares Thoughts On Toastmasters, Power and Powerlessness

The pandemic has altered many aspects of our lives in 2020, but it hasn't stopped our lives altogether. It's just been a matter of making adjustments. One such adjustment has been the advent of Zoom.

Zoom videoconferencing has made it easy for companies to transition to the cocooning now common for the past seven months. And for our local Toastmasters club it's had some special perks because a few of our members have attended meetings in other parts of the country and the world, and occasionally we have had guests Zoom in from elsewhere.

Jane Kim

At our Toastmasters meeting Thursday Jane Kim gave an interesting speech about how we carry ourselves and its impact on both ourselves and others. I asked for permission to share her talk here and a little about herself.  Her talk follows this brief interview.

EN: How did you become interested in being part of Toastmasters?

Jane Kim: I became interested in Toastmasters after some folks from my inner circle encouraged me to check it out. I was working for two public access broadcast television stations in the Twin Cities when I joined one of the local clubs there and, while I was exposed to much journalism and communication while working at these two jobs, I still had this desire to polish up my skills. I joined the Plymouth club in the Twin Cities in November of 2019 and when I learned that I got hired at FOX 21 Local News in Duluth, I decided to jump right into the Duluth Toastmasters Club, mainly to make great connections in the Northland and to keep working on my skills.

EN: What have you learned through your involvement with Toastmasters?

JK: I've learned that no one is a perfect speaker, which is a good thing! Everyone has something that they can improve on. I've learned for myself that I tend to speak with a lot of um's and and's, and I tend to rush when I speak (I consider that to be a nervous tic of mine). I would say the Ah Counter's role and the variety of Evaluators for my speeches have been key to my growth in these areas. But on the other hand, I've learned that in a supportive and encouraging environment like the one at Duluth Toastmasters, you can reach the goals that you set for yourself. For instance, during the most recent speech that I gave, I was able to use gestures naturally and effectively, even during a Zoom call! I'm learning a whole lot through my participation in Toastmasters, and I am ever so grateful for the opportunity to take part in such a sweet group!

* * * *

Let Your Light Shine

Presence. What allows for someone to have a great or not so great presence?

It was at a garage sale where I stumbled upon a book that would shift my perspective about body language and how your body contributes to changing your mind. We were covering rummage sales and the summer trends of selling one’s old treasures for a story at work, and I think it was the second or third garage sale we went to where I found the book Presence by Amy Cuddy for a measly two dollars.

I wasn’t too familiar with Cuddy’s work – I watched part of her TED talk maybe a few years ago, but it wasn’t until I actually read her book Presence that my understanding of the effectiveness of body language changed.

Photo by Priscilla Du Preez on Unsplash

There’s a part in her book where talks about feeling powerful and powerless. It’s actually interwoven throughout the entirety of the pages in the book, but Cuddy basically makes the claim that feeling powerful and powerless are two types of dispositions one can have. One can feel powerful, feeling decisive and confident and ready to take on the world, or one can feel powerless, indecisive, insecure, defeated.

As she mentions in her book, power makes us approach while powerlessness makes us avoid. When one feels powerless, not only do our minds have thoughts of insecurity and defeat, we also quote constrict our posture, tightening, wrapping, and making ourselves smaller (limbs touching torso, chest caved inward, shoulders slumped, head lowered, posture slouched). We also use restricted gestures and speech by hesitating, rushing, using a small vocal range, a high pitch and so on.

She goes on to say that when we are feeling powerless, in virtually every way that we can, we make ourselves smaller. Rather than take up more space, we take up less – through our postures, our gestures, our walking and even our voices. We shorten, slouch, collapse, and we restrict our body language end quote.

In response to this, one can only see that those watching us will find us also powerless. Did you know that if you stand in a powerful pose – something like this, this or this – will actually change the hormones in your brain? Yes, the body indeed can change the mind. According to Presence, the body and the brain are a part of a single integrated complicated beautiful system.

“I don’t sing because I’m happy,” said William James, “I’m happy because I sing.” Let that sink in for a minute. It’s not because of the emotional cues of the song that makes one happy but you’re happy because you participate in the act of singing.

According to studies sponsored by Oregon and Harvard universities, doing power poses leads to a high level of testosterone and low levels of cortisol. Testosterone is connected with dominance while cortisol is a stress hormone. According to an article by weekplan.net, people holding power poses tended to be more confident, authoritative, assertive and relaxed while those in low power role poses had low levels of testosterone and high levels of cortisol. When we decide to do something like asking someone out on a date or raising your hand in class or volunteering, we consider the possible benefits or the possible costs of the action. Benefits being a new relationship or being able to say what we think and costs being looking foolish in the eyes of others. If we are constantly focusing on the costs of the action, then we miss out on the decisions that we can make and opportunities to feel powerful in the moment. I don’t mean to keep quoting this book, but presence is the way you carry yourself and is a source of personal power. It’s the key that allows you to unlock yourself, she says, your abilities, your creativity, your courage and even your generosity.

I hope that both you and I learn the secret to finding our presence.


Related Links
Duluth Toastmasters Club 1523 
Duluth Toastmasters Club 1523 on Facebook
Meet Duluth Toastmasters Club 1523: Dave Boe and Randine LePage
More Toastmasters Testimonials: Katy, Wulfgar and Yana
A Visit with Transition Life Coach Yana Stockman