Forgiveness and My Childhood Hero

Forgiveness and My Childhood Hero

Hello Beautiful Souls- Transformation invites forgiveness. Is it possible that you are holding onto old stories to help define your pain? The pain that sits in your heart every day and inhibits the ability for growth and joy? True forgiveness releases judgment not only for others but more importantly for yourself. Defensiveness keeps us in a negative mind set and breaks down our bodies at a cellular level. This is a proven scientific fact. Perhaps your ailments are directly connected to the grudges you hold onto, the pain that remains inside of you. Forgiveness is the work that releases the pain allowing space for your heart to grow and experience joy. Your spirit is begging while your soul encourages you to join the beautiful life that’s waiting for you.

Balanced on the crossbar, I am perched high above the ground my legs swung side saddle as I lean into the soothing breeze. I love the sound of the wheels as they roll along the pavement, shooting out loose gravel beneath the mammoth tires. I place my hands directly below his on the over-sized handle bars. I am seated right in front of him, just the two of us on this giant bicycle and I am free. No cares, no worries, nobody else, just me and my hero. We glide along peacefully down the quiet streets of our neighborhood and I feel safe here, in this town and in his presence. This is my dad and I know I am his favorite. I think we all feel we are his favorite cuz that’s what good dads do. These are the streets I played on, suffered many scrapes and bruises, a broken nose and a broken heart. The Band-Aids are gone, the scrapes have healed and the memories fade.

There he is patiently waiting as the bus slows down at our stop. My dress is no longer clean and pressed, my hair is no longer pulled back into a neat ponytail and my books and papers are organized chaos. I scramble to get my completed schoolwork in order because I want to be the first one. Hurry! Hurry! I see the bus driver’s reflection as she gazes up and watches me. I slow down just long enough to release her attention. I know if I hurry I will be the first one my dad scoops up. Making my exit, I bounce down the steps of the bus and I hear my dad clap his hands and see him as he holds out his arms. This is my cue to run and jump into his arms. He catches me as I hold on to my books and papers. I giggle and he laughs as he twirls me around. He gently lowers me to the sidewalk and repeats the same routine with my sisters. We walk hand in hand to our house, I sit next to my dad on the couch and start telling him about my day. He looks through every piece of school work and listens to me explain about each one while he offers his comments and praise. Truth be told, I never cared a great deal about my schoolwork, but I certainly cared about my dad’s undivided attention.

I brush my teeth, put on my pajamas and crawl under the covers. My dad sits at the table and chairs in my bedroom with his knees folded up to his chin holding an over-sized book. It is one of my favorites, the memory and the book. He reads with inflection and animation until my sister and I drift off to sleep. We wake up the next morning to him singing, “It’s time to get up, it’s time to get up, it’s time to get up in the morning,” as he pulls the curtains back allowing the sunlight to open our eyes.

I pull on my helmet, zip up my leather jacket and throw my leg over the seat. I lean into the wind and allow it to soothe me. The engine hums as we ride through the majestic countryside. I love the sound of the tires as they roll along the pavement. No cares or worries, nobody else, just me and my hero. No longer needing to hold on, my hands rest on top of my legs and I am seated right in back of him. Just the two of us on this big motorcycle, I feel the wind on my face and I am free. We peacefully travel along new roads and experience an unobstructed view of the landscape and I feel safe here, on this bike and in his presence. I beam with pride cuz this is my dad and I know I am still his favorite. My summers are spent with my family touring, working and learning. The motorcycle, leather jacket and helmet have been put away but the memories remain.

The experiences, the lessons, the memories, they are all gifts.

It feels like two separate lives; the one that was, the one that was so animated, so enormous like the book my dad read from each night to my dreamy little head. And the other life; the one I live now, the one that found me and is my purpose that without betrayal and pain, could not exist. This past week, I celebrated my birthday I am feeling melancholy and a need to share the gifts I received. Our families circumstances have changed, our relationships have changed, we’ve changed. I am past the pain and hurt inviting gratitude for knowing I was cherished and loved. My dad loves me and I love him. I have many heroes, but he was my childhood hero, the one I looked up to, the one that was bigger than life itself.  Tall, handsome and funny, we were good pals he and I. I am my dad’s spitting image, that’s what everyone says and I know that to be true today in more ways than one. I fought for my husband and my boys, my family. I beam with pride as I look at my sons and the strong men they have become in character, integrity and morals. A shift has occurred and I am no longer my dad’s favorite.

I was his favorite when I needed to be and I am grateful for all that was and all that is.

 Thank you Dad for telling me to try everything once. Thank you for teaching me to respect all living things. Thank you for teaching me to stand up for what’s right and fight for the people I love. We chose different truths and we fought for the people we love albeit on different family teams. In my young life you treated me like a queen and I knew you would move mountains and walk through fire for me. Through example, Mom taught me to choose a man to share my life with that would do the same, and I did. My life lessons were as giant as the bike I once shared with you and forgiveness has offered the capacity to feel as free as I did perched on top of that bicycle so many years ago.

Forgiveness has allowed these sweet memories to resurface. They had been buried beneath the pain of my story. I have space in my heart to feel the impact of these warm childhood memories of which I am tremendously grateful.

I invite you to stay curious, explore your own stories and invite forgiveness to grow your soul.

Dream It-Design It-Believe It-Receive It


Micki xo

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