# 2 - Finding a way to Forgiveness

​If I could go back in time, the first place I would go and change my Mother’s life.
If I couldn’t go back to her first marriage, I would go to the time she was close to leaving my Father, after he beat her.
 
If not that far back, back to my first marriage and fixed it or have gotten out sooner, or not marry the young alcoholic.
 
Fun to imagine the changes that might have occurred, if. Hey, why not go back to when my Father’s issues started. I am just dreaming now. 
 
Hard to know if life would really have served its purpose for us “if” changing events were possible.
 
After all, a great part of this life, for me, has been experiencing the wonders of emotions. Without the heartbreak, I may have never felt the joy. I began to recognize my patterns. The times when I felt bored. At those times, it seems that something always occurred to make life interesting or challenging.
 
A new opportunity for learning would come along. Sometimes, I would experience intervention from the unseen world. I would hear a voice.
 
This is my truth to leading to more awakening as years passed. 
 
My desire is not to look back at my past to feel sorry for myself or make excuses. It’s the opposite, to understand the wonder of many miracles. Finding my understanding gives me more acceptance and compassion for myself, and for others as well.
 
Like my neighbor who shot our dog, forgiveness and understanding was important. Right, if I was to be a good person. How was I going to be able to forgive?
 
I had come home for lunch. I let our two dogs out of the house. Della was a small, mix, white fluffy, black eyes and nose. Wicka looked like a Red Irish Sitter, though she most likely was a mix also. They had both been dropped off in our neighborhood. 
 
My three sons seemed to find the stray cats and dogs. They also found ways to convince or trick me into keeping a few. 
 
Della and Wicka were special. I was finally getting around to liking dogs. Actually, feeling love for the comforting critters. I had just gone through a heartbreak. I found them very healing.
 
Going home for lunch, gave me a chance to visit with Della and Wicka, make sure things were safe at home. I found the quietness peaceful as I got out of my car on what seemed to be a cool but sunny, nice day in our neighborhood. 
 
No one was in view. I felt very alone.
 
Opening my backdoor, our pets greeted me with their excitement. Ready for their outside break. 
 
Within minutes, Wicka and Della were back. I had heard a yelp.  Something was wrong as they ran as fast as they could back inside. The dogs stood in the living room looking at me. 
 
“What wrong?” as if they were going to answer me.
 
Della looked puzzled looking from me to Wicka. Wicka, after standing a moment staring at me, felt over.
 
I went to check her and found she had a hole in her side. It was draining liquid. It was a dark, coming out of a blackish spot. 
 
I looked outside and saw nothing. I called police. I called Roger, my neighbor to my left, to let them know to watch out for their dogs.
 
No one seemed to know anything.
 
A friend helped me get Wicka to the vet. Her wound was fatal. I had to make a choice. Try to save her, she would be a vegetable or diabetic and costly or put her down. “Vegetable” I had a memory somewhere, oh yes, my Dad.
 
The bullet used, had been shaved to do the most damage possible.
 
My next fear was how to tell my sons.
 
I mentioned the incident a week or so later, to another neighbor on my right. I heard back that, Roger, the 1stneighbor whom I had called to give warning, was the one who had shot Wicka.
 
Roger had been bragging how he had shot our dog. 
 
When the police went to talk to him about it, Roger claimed that Wicka had chased his calf, against the fence and causing the calf to suffer a gash.
 
Reasoning, knowing Roger, the way I did, he would have expected money for damages, if his calf had suffered. He would have come and let me know about it. 
 
The time frame, the minutes didn’t add up. Nothing was in view across the street when I arrived at my house, or after the dogs returned. The area where the calf and Roger with his riffle would have been didn’t make any sense.
 
My sons and daughter were working a couple of hours away at a Lodge. When Friday night came, I went up to share the sad news. 
 
I planned to stay the night. 
 
After dinner I walked the trail to their living quarters. 
 
Beside me, in ghostly form, I saw Wicka. Strangest feeling. She was walking along beside me, just like in the movies. She was with me. I could see through the veil to the other side. A couple of blinks and she was gone.
 
The next morning, I woke to her bark. Wicka, I could feel her love a devotion. But, that wasn’t the best part of the story, the gift Wicka truly gave me.
 
The days that followed I was growing angrier. I thought of the time I gave money to Roger. I had let my son stay over with their son. The boys were friends.  My son got involved with their family.  One Christmas they played a family game, of gifts for Mom. I had always tried to be supportive to their large family. 
 
“Why would Roger do what he did to my family? How could he justify his action?” It felt a betrayal from someone I had trusted.
 
One night my oldest son came to visit. I began to vent. Now I was beyond the grief and shifting into total rage and revenge over the pain Roger had inflected on me and mine.
 
My Dane silently listened for a while. He was in a totally different place than I had allowed myself to go. He finally said the magic words, “Mom, Roger’s forgotten who he is . . ..”
 
With that Spirit spoke to me, I heard, “Send love and he will only gain a reflection of himself.”
 
The words the feeling made it possible for me to shift.
 
Forgiveness became easy. The knowing of a greater purpose became clear. I just needed to remember what felt right. I needed to get back to the true me.
 
The years that have followed, I still reflect upon the greatest reminder:
 
“Send Love, and he will only gain a reflection of himself.”
 
Or some might understand it better with a message from the Bible:
 
“Father, forgive them for they know not what they do.”