Waiting On Forgiveness

How does Pixar manage to make me cry every single time? I saw the movie Brave today, and twenty minutes in, tears were already streaming down my cheeks. It was the usual, age-old, mother-daughter strife that did me in: The mother is controlling, won't let go, wants to make the child's decisions for her, and the daughter resents her for it. In this flick (spoiler alert), the mother roars like a bear, the child calls her a beast, and soon, the mother literally turns into a bear. I have to admit, I relate to that transformation more than I'd like to confess. Never in my carefully calculated plans for motherhood did I think I would be the beast in my child's life, especially after growing up in a house rife with anger. But, as it turns out, I carry a legacy of rage within me that runs so deep, I have only recently begun to accept and name it. In short, I was a better parent before I became one. (Hopefully I am not the only mother who felt leveled by the subversive message of this film, because one of my biggest fears is suffering alone; at least, as another saying goes, there is comfort in numbers.) When we see something we dislike about ourselves, acceptance is usually the first step towards positive change. Through acceptance, I have begun to change my rage legacy, but some days it is hard. Some days, that giant, wild bear tries to claw her way through to the surface. I have made apologies to my daughter, and even to myself--apologies too numerous to count--because taking responsibility is another crucial step in the healing process. At the end of Brave, when the daughter is apologizing and wishing for her mother to turn back into a human, and their fate appears very bleak indeed, I realized a universal truth: Owning one's mistakes and saying sorry is painful, but waiting on forgiveness is downright excruciating. Is anyone waiting on your forgiveness?