Reaching for forgivness.

Forgive yourself. {Clean.}

Like you I am human.

Like you I am flawed.

Like you I have ideals. Of who I am and how I live.

And sometimes I achieve those ideals.

And other times I don't.


As a mother I strive for peace.

I listen. I hear.

I reach for compassion. Understanding. Love.

I empower.

I allow.


And today I yelled.

I really, really yelled.

I was frustrated. Impatient. Angry.

And at it's core was fear. It's almost always fear.

And from that shadow space I lashed out.

I yelled.


And around here a yell isn't so different than a hit.

It's violence, from one person to another.

We can dress it up, but it's still violence.


Sticks and stones may break your bones, but words can cut much deeper.

I did that.

In a weak and fearful moment.

I yelled.


And even as the words came tumbling out of my mouth, I knew I wanted to take them back, but they just kept coming.





And then…

I stopped.


Because this was not what motherhood was meant to be.


I didn't come here to be the mama for this.

To do harm to those I love most.


I came here to be the mama with arms open wide.

To hold these precious souls in love and light and grace.

To listen. To hear. To allow. 

Not to knock them down.

This isn't what mothering is about.

I was on the wrong road.


And so I said:

I'm sorry.


I'm sorry.

We sat, my child upon my lap, both of us with tears in our eyes, and I said I was sorry.

So, so sorry.

And I said I was human. And I made a mistake.


It's okay.


It's okay.

We are human. We all lose our way sometimes.


My child forgave me.

In an instant.

We worked together to undo the harm.

We found a solution to our struggle.

We found connection once more.


And then I set to the hardest work of all.

Forgiving myself.


Because I was still angry. But now I was angry with me.


Yet when my children yell, I forgive them.

In an instant.

When others fall apart I reach for understanding. Love. Compassion.

And I am deserving of that same gift.


I am flawed.

I am human.

And I am forgiven.

Yes, even by my harshest critic: myself.


Because I taught and learned more through this simple act than any other today.


And from here we can truly move forward.





31 thoughts on “Reaching for forgivness.

  1. Heidi-Paul Krueger-Cummings says:

    OOOOOOO you hit me right in the heart!!! This speaks to me today so deeply, for I too yelled. I also said I was sorry with tear filled eyes and a broken heart. I felt so ashamed and not myself and I too didn’t forgive myself right away and so this is a WONDERFUL reminder to do so!!!! You nailed it, when you said ” and I am deserving of that same gift”. Thank you so very, very much! You reached me loud and clear!!! XOXO

  2. Maia says:

    I’ve been there too. Sometimes instead of understanding the situation, I decide to vent my frustrations and I always feel terrible for choosing to do that.

  3. renee @ FIMBY says:

    beautiful. My children are always so quick to forgive and I say I’m sorry nearly every day for something. For zoning out, for speaking harshly, for making assumptions. And we forgive and move on because that’s love. I love love.

  4. SRB says:

    I yelled today too. Even as I was doing it I knew it was wrong and I’d regret it later. And I do regret it. I said “I’m sorry” to my son, to my husband. I’ve cried a lot about it. I wonder why I didn’t learn my lesson the last time it happened.

  5. Annie says:

    This exact scene happened at my house the other night and ended with my daughter in my lap, both of us sobbing, and me apologizing. And her forgiving. “It’s alright, mama. It’s gonna be alright.”

  6. Charis says:

    Thank you. My throat still stings from the yelling I did today. My four year old kept saying, “I don’t like it when you use your loud voice.” But I couldn’t find my small steady voice today. Tomorrow I will begin anew.

  7. Knitting Mole says:

    Had a major parenting fail this weekend by yelling & arguing with my husband in front of our daughter, in public, at the freaking zoo of all places! It was horrible, and painful, and in the end my inner voice was saying nothing but “your a horrible parent and your family hates you.” I know of course, that none of this is true, but that little voice in my head is a mean spirited demon. At one point when my husband took off for the car to calm down, leaving me alone with our daughter, I totally lost it. I just held her and cried on a bench. I’m sure we were a sight for onlookers. And I felt so bad for dumping all my emotion in her presence. She’s only 3 years old and doesn’t deserve to see Mom loose it. At one point I looked down at her and she seemed a bit embarrassed. Granted, that may have been my inner-demons messing with me too 🙁
    In the end we made up and moved on with our “fun” day at the zoo, but I don’t think this is the last parenting fail moment we’ll have.

    Sorry for unloading, but honestly, I think your the only one I “know” that would understand. (we have no friends with kids, and are not speaking to most of our family after many many fights about raising our child to have the same values as us, not to be little consumers.) So thank you again for providing a glimpse of the support structure I dream of having one day. It keeps me hopeful.

  8. Jayna says:

    knitting mole: you are enough. Your husband is enough. put your arms around them, pick up some handwork and lead with your heart. and goodness knows, compromise and deep breaths can bring about calm thoughts and true meanings. its okay to be angry and disagree, of course, but how you do it is the key. much love to you! xo

  9. Jayna says:

    Rachel, this is a real and raw post, and honestly, this is how we truly connect as parents. why? I dont know, maybe its the idea that we all need help, from each other and from the divine, but truly, the mama and woman in me just wanted to run to you and hug you!

  10. Knitting Mole says:

    Thank you so much Jayna! That’s actually exactly what I did last night. Left work early (after quite a bit a crying during lunch writing the post above), had a much calmer talk with my hubby, then played with my little girl and knitted after dinner for the first time in a VERY long time. Love to you all for the support and place to vent my bottled up feelings 🙂 xo

  11. Rachel Wolf says:

    Thank you for your courage to share your story here. Sometimes it’s hard. Sometimes everything feels broken. And you just need to grieve. Sending hugs your way, sweet lady.

  12. Knitting Mole says:

    Awe, thank you Rachel! Good luck with your to-do list today my sweet friend! (Me, I’m trying to figure out where to put a truck load of strawberry plants that my mom just pulled out of her garden before they end up in the landfill! Such a waste!)

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