“But why?”
Granddad sighed. “The one thing I can gather is that it helps him to forget.”
“Forgetwhat? He doesn’t want to forgetus, does he?” Tears stung the corners of her eyes, but she refused to let them out. Fine! If Dad didn’t love them, she wouldn’t lovehim. She didn’t want his love. Let him forget her. She didn’t care.
The tears almost escaped. Almost.
“No, sweetheart. He’d never want to forget you.” Granddad started back up the hill. “But a lot of adults need to forget the bad things that have happened to them, and the bad things they’ve done.”
“Like God forgets?”
Granddad’s face scrunched up and then relaxed. “Yes. We wish we could forgive like God does. But we have a hard time doing it, don’t we?”
As they walked the rest of the way up to the house, Whitney couldn’t get Granddad’s words out of her head. If only she could forget all the bad things she’d done too. All thetimes she’d been mean to her sisters. Or selfish. Or the times she’d lied. Mama said Jesus forgave her when she apologized to Him. But those bad actions came back to haunt her.
A lot.
Whycouldn’t she be better? Like her mother.
A few Sundays ago, the reverend talked about forgiveness and how God chose to forget their sins, to put those sins as far away as the east from the west. How could He do that?
God, I sure hope You forget all my bad deeds.
Maybe God could forget her daddy’s too? And forgive him? Make him do better?
Jesus died for everyone’s sins. God loved all of them the same no matter what they’d done.
She sniffed and winced. She was supposed to forgive Daddy like God did. It was a good thing her dad wasn’t dead. Now she had to find some way to help him forget so he didn’t need to go out drinking.
Mama made certain to tell them every day that Daddy loved them. She promised it was true. That should be reason enough for him to give up his drinking. Shouldn’t it?
If he could stop, then she could forgive him. God would help her.
Then Mama wouldn’t cry anymore.
And then they could be aproperfamily.
That ate every meal together around the dinner table.
Talked about their days.
Laughed together.
Made memories together.
Went to church together.
Gathered around the piano to play music and sing.
Had picnics in the meadow on red-and-white checkered cloths.
The pictures in her mind were so vivid that she smiled.
“Whitney?” Granddad’s voice broke through her thoughts. “It’s freezing out here, honey. Let’s get inside.”
“Yes, sir.” As she walked into the tiny cabin they called home, she let the remnants of the pictures cement into her mind. She turned to close the door and watched as the snow laid a fresh white coating on everything.
Clean. Bright.
