Forgiveness
Olivia White was born into a comfortable family. Her father was a senior manager in a railway firm, while her mother kept the home, tended to their only daughter, pressed her father’s suits, and made marmalades. They lived in the modest market town of Ashford. After leaving school, Olivia went to study in the larger city of Bristol, where she met Arthur Green. They married and seemed to have everything a cosy house, good jobs, and a life in step.
The one sorrow that shadowed them was the absence of children. They consulted countless doctors, even travelled abroad, and each professional assured them that there was no health problem whatsoever. When another pregnancy test came back negative, Olivia wept. How long must we endure this? If God wishes us children, He will give them; why must those who long for them be denied?
One Saturday, feeling the weight of emptiness, Olivia walked in the town park. The weather was splendid, birds sang merrily, and the world seemed to smile, yet a hollow lingered in her heart. On a bench she noticed an elderly lady feeding breadcrumbs to a flock of pigeons. The birds swarmed and cooed. Olivia hesitated, then sat beside her. The old woman silently handed her a small packet of crumbs, and Olivia scattered them to the pigeons.
Compelled to speak, Olivia confided in the woman about her childlessness. The lady listened without interruption.
Tell me, Olivia, she asked gently, have you ever hurt someone so badly that you have forgotten it?
Olivia thought and said she could not recall any such person. Are you sure? Perhaps back at school?
Olivias school days were a blur; she remembered no incidents, had been a quiet, modest pupil who never argued. She had lost touch with her classmates and knew nothing of their lives. Then a sudden tug at her memory brought a single episode to mind. In school there had been a shy girl named Ethel Clarke, raised by her grandmother, her parents being unreliable. Ethel kept to herself, was often called the blessed one, and endured the ridicule of other pupils in silence.
Sometimes Ethel would ring Olivias home telephone, and they would chat at length about books, films, and homework. Ethel was talkative only with Olivia over the phone; at school she never approached her, as if ashamed. Olivia was relieved, for she feared the others would mock her for befriending the blessed one.
One day Ethel arrived at school in a cardigan and skirt instead of the uniform. During break the zipper on her skirt broke, and she fastened it with a safety pin. Some mischievous boys slipped behind her, pried the pin free, and the skirt fell to the floor. Laughter erupted. Olivia watched in silence, feeling sorry for Ethel but unable to intervene, lest she too be laughed at.
Ethel tugged up the skirt, fled the classroom, and ran to the river. It was late autumn; the water was icy, but she plunged in regardless, swimming until she began to lose consciousness. A passerby rescued her, covered her with his coat, and called an ambulance. She was taken to the infirmary, slipped into a coma for several days, then awoke with a severe coldinduced infection. Only her grandmother visited her there. The school gossip ignored the news; Olivia thought of paying a visit but soon forgot. Ethel never returned to school. Rumours claimed she suffered a nervous breakdown, and Olivia never heard of her again.
Now, recalling this solitary memory, Olivia felt a pang of shame. She had never truly harmed Ethel, yet she had failed to stand up for her. She turned to thank the old lady, but the woman had vanished and the pigeons were scattered. A thought struck Olivia: she should travel to the town of her childhood. Her parents had long since moved elsewhere, and she had no relatives in Ashford.
The next morning she asked leave from work, telling Arthur that her parents wanted her to visit. She drove to Ashford, lodged in a small inn, and walked straight to the house where Ethel had lived. Nothing had changed over the years; it felt as if she had stepped back into her own youth. She knocked, waited, and the door opened to reveal Ethels grandmother.
Olivia? What brings you here? the old woman asked.
Good day. May I speak with Ethel? Is she at home? Olivia replied.
Shes right there, inside. What do you need?
Olivia entered a modest sittingroom where a young woman sat with her back to the fire, painting. She turned, and Olivia saw how much Ethel had changed she was now a strikingly beautiful woman.
Ethel, its Olivia White. Do you remember me? Olivia asked.
Of course, Olivia. What can I do for you? Ethel answered.
Olivia told her the whole tale her longing, the old lady in the park, and the guilt that had haunted her. Ethel listened, her eyes softening.
My dear Olivia, she said, I waited for you at the hospital after the river, day after day. I never expected you to forget me. I bore no ill will that you never defended me in school; I knew youd be ridiculed. But I was terribly lonely in that ward, with only my grandmother and you absent. I was angry, and when the doctors told me I would never have children, I silently wished the same fate upon you, as if you had betrayed me with your indifference.
Olivia fell to her knees, overwhelmed.
Ethel, Im so sorry. I was ashamed, selfish, and thought only of myself. I never visited you. Please forgive me. She wept.
Ethel, ever kind, helped Olivia to her feet.
Olivia, you must also forgive yourself. I hold no grudge. I would like to help you now, though I know not how. I forgive you, and my heart is at peace. They shared tea, talked, and Olivia departed, promising to keep in touch.
Three months later Olivia bought another pregnancy test. When the two lines appeared, she could hardly believe her eyes. She rushed to call Ethel, who rejoiced, relieved that the phantom she had blamed herself for was unfounded. Olivia then called Arthur and her parents; the news filled them all with joy. The pregnancy went smoothly, and a baby girl, named Alice, was born. Ethel gladly agreed to be the girls godmother.
Thus it is often said that angry words and curses return like boomerangs to the speaker. Those who speak ill may later find life turned upside down. Let us not wish harm upon others; instead, may we live in peace and harmony within our souls.
