Tuesday, 17 November 2015

SAWBONNA in OTTAWA: THIS VERY MORNING. (OUR STORIES MATTER.)

There is not a time when I am in Ottawa, that I do not experience a deep sense of poignant and powerful emotions. Their saline-speaking are the speech of paradox, the language of hope, the palaver of possibility. This morning upon leaving The Supreme Court of Canada, I shared conversation with one of the security personnel. I had tears of gratitude, of joy, of awe. I was asked if I was all right. I said yes. I then told my story. I shared of the gift that is Glen and I meeting because of “informal” mediation. I shared the fact that immigrants to Canada in 1969, my parents were choosing a life of hope, of freedom, of possibility for their three daughters, and their son, born three years later. I shared that Glen and I met, that we are dear friends. And the words to follow came from that wonderful individual. They are this precis, “I have read about people forgiving people who have done great harm to them and to members of their family, great harm to people they love.” She continued, “I think of my brother. I will never forgive him. I am not Mother Teresa.” Through tears of infinite gratitude I said to her, “I am not Mother Teresa. None of us has to do anything but be our very selves. None of us has forgive. We might not, in fact, have that ability. Perhaps it is not our business at all. We merely have to bloom where we are planted, caring for our very selves, and “Life” will honour Life.” I pointed out the warmth she and her colleagues shared, for I saw them laughing and chatting. And, their welcoming of me when I first got to The Supreme Court, to my time of leaving, was palpable kindness. That generous, honest, and beauty-full individual said to me, “Thank you.” We Sawbonna-ed.


CBC
Radio
:
Writing Your Voice & Restorative Justice - Meeting the Man Who Killed Her Father
http://www.cbc.ca/informationmorningns/2014/05/30/writer-inspired-by-relationship-with-her-fathers-killer/

2 comments:

  1. What a gift you gave her, Margo...even if she could receive just a shred of its light...

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. The poignancy of the f/act of her sharing what she did, was a ray of precious light, Brenda.

      Delete