A few years ago I was having a conversation with my mother in law. She was in her eighties at the time. I said, "We all make mistakes as parents." She said, "I didn't make any mistakes." She was sincere. She could not face this simple truth.
Lately I have been struggling with redefining my role as a parent. I started out so intent on protecting my child. He was this beautiful little spirit, my heart on a string. I wanted to shelter him from the ugliness of the world. I couldn't. I still can't.
Even worse, I did make mistakes, big mistakes. I have regrets. I am trying to learn to forgive myself. Perhaps forgiveness is nothing more than learning to sit with the sadness of regret. Bearing witness to the pain, maybe that's the whole point.
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