When Identity Begins to Speak

A guilty heart in pain was asking for forgiveness. A part of Hannah’s heart said yes, but the other part asserted a firm no. For all these years, Hannah had waited to look into Uncle Adam’s face again, a face that had glowed with love for her. Hannah had not pursued Uncle Adam further when she believed her letters had been rejected. Over the years, she had thought about contacting him, but Hannah refused to step into another world where she was not wanted—even the world of her biological family. Rejection had torn at her heart.
Her only consolation was the fact that she had her own family: Brian and her children. It was a world where she felt secure and protected from those who could hurt her again. Her heart hurt, knowing that the very woman who had committed this indefensible crime was now asking Hannah to forgive her.
But Mrs. Miller’s words turned into hot water, pouring over Hannah’s icy heart. Her anger was slowly melting away. Hannah deliberated: her conscience could not refuse the plea for forgiveness. Still, she had strong reservations. Hannah vacillated. In a weak voice, she replied, “I forgive you, but I want you to know that I have suffered for years because of rejection, first by my adoptive family and then by you. Uncle Adam welcomed me with open arms.” She was driven to confront Mrs. Miller with her truth. “Yes, I forgive you. My forgiveness, however, does come with a price. If you really want to know how I feel, I have opened my heart to forgive family members for most of my life. The only thing I have left is my pain. I remember the pain. I breathe in the pain. I live with the pain. What you did to me was appalling.”
Hannah heard Mrs. Miller crying over the phone. She listened to a three-second pause before she heard, “Hannah, there’s something I must share with you.” Hannah’s ears were attentive; she simultaneously erected a wall of protection. Mrs. Miller explained that Hannah had an aunt who lived thirty minutes away from her town. She was a widow living alone. Mrs. Miller gave Hannah the aunt’s phone number.
Hannah inquired, “What’s her name?”
“Your mother’s sister name is Miriam.” The phone conversation ended with Mrs. Miller quietly saying goodbye. Hannah was left alone with her thoughts. Forgiveness was more than just articulating the words “I forgive you.” The very notion that forgiveness could eradicate deception and lies seemed impossible to Hannah. Her heart was not built like a computer, giving her the freedom to hit the delete button to expunge Mrs. Miller’s terrible deeds from her memory. Uncle Adam’s name had reopened past wounds. Hannah understood that forgiveness created a series of interdependent steps. Time was on her side. All these years of waiting seemed futile. Was it worth Hannah’s time and effort to reconnect with another family member? Could Hannah afford to confront another rejection from her family, leaving her holding the leftover consequences and experiencing an emotional breakdown?