Lee H. Baucom - The Forgive Process

A Little Book on
Forgiving and Letting Go

Lee H. Baucom, Ph.D.

NEW YORK

LONDONNASHVILLEMELBOURNEVANCOUVER

THE FORGIVE PROCESS

2019 Lee H. Baucom, Ph.D.

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ISBN 9781683508977 paperback

ISBN 9781683508984 eBook

Library of Congress Control Number: 2017918800

Cover Design by:

Rachel Lopez

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Interior Design by:

Christopher Kirk

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W hen he was little, Billy was carefree. He was happy all the time and simply explored the world. It seemed boundless, and he felt boundless. Days started at first light and ended when it got dark. No worries. No struggles.

One day, Billy was playing with his best friend. They were having a carefree day, staring at the clouds passing overhead. As they were passing the time, Billy told his best friend a secret. It was not a huge secret. Just a little secret. One of those bonding moments between friends.

The next day, Billy was playing ball with all his friends. As it sometimes happens, an argument broke out about rules and who was right. Billy was winning the argument by popular decree. But the tide suddenly turned. Billys opponent pointed at Billy and told everyone the secret Billy had entrusted to his friend. Everyone laughed. Except Billy.

Billy felt betrayed.

And Billy swore he would never let that happen again. Billy looked around and found a smooth stone. He wrote a note on it with the crayon in his pocket, Never trust Tommy again. He slipped the smooth stone into his pocket, just to make sure he didnt forget.

Whenever Billy was tempted to tell Tommy another secret, he reached into his pocket and touched the rock. It reminded him of the dangers of telling secrets. Billy knew he was onto something a system of protection, to make sure nothing hurt him.

A few days later, Billys dad promised to throw a ball with him after work, just as he headed out the door. Unfortunately, things blew up at work and Dad got stuck. Billy was waiting on the front porch, watching for the car that was not appearing around the corner. I guess it wasnt important to him, thought Billy. He picked up a rock beside him, found his crayon, and wrote, Never count on what someone promises you. He stuck it in his pocket.

When his dad came home, Billy sat in his tree house and read comic books, and pretended he didnt hear his dad calling him.

Those rocks began to comfort Billy. When he walked, they jostled around in his pocket, reminding him that he had to be careful. Every now and then, he pulled them out and read the crayon writing, reminding himself that his rules kept him safe.

About a week later, Billy was playing in the field. Some other kids were rough-housing around. A sharp rock flew errantly, striking Billy on the elbow. It hurt. But there wasnt any real damage. The boys didnt even seem to notice.

Billy was hurt, but even more, he was angry that the boys didnt notice what they had done. He picked up the sharp rock, squeezed it hard, and said, I wont forget you did that to me. Billy gripped it so hard that the edges dug into his hand. And several cuts on his hand bled just a bit.

This rock was harder to carry in his pocket. So Billy just carried it wrapped tightly in his hands, all the way home.

In his room, Billy grabbed a backpack and put the rock inside. He would keep it to remind himself of what those boys had done to him. Billy seemed to have missed the fact that those boys, after a while of tussling, gathered for a nice game of kickball. They went home, happy over a good day of play.

Billy took to carrying that backpack around with him, keeping his reminder rocks inside. The backpack was a bit cumbersome, but it seemed worth it to Billy, to remind him of his hurts. He reasoned that if he kept track of the events that hurt him, he could avoid them in the future.

So, it became a ritual for Billy. Whenever he felt hurt, he found a rock or stone, smooth or sharp, and made a note on it. Over time, the crayons faded a bit. It didnt matter, though. Billy would periodically take out each rock and remember what happened. Sometimes, it would be a little hard to remember the details, so he had to concentrate. But it was worth it to Billy. It was just the price of staying safe. That backpack was getting pretty heavy after a few years. But Bill kept at it. He kept the backpack with him, just in case he needed to refer to the stones.

One day, young Bill realized that he, too, made mistakes. He let others down. He let himself down. He wasnt doing all he felt he should be doing. Things he did; things he didnt do.

Bill started writing these things onto rocks, so he could remember to do it right the next time. He used a Sharpie for this project so the writing would be permanent. And the backpack became more than a bit cumbersome as Bill kept track of what he did wrong. So, he fashioned a sack to wear on his chest. Then, as he moved through his day, Bill could pull out a rock easily, and remember not to make that mistake again.

And as Bill grew older, he also wrote more details in his stone notes. That took bigger stones. But it was worth it, reasoned Bill, to keep track of the details. He didnt want to be hurt, and he didnt want to hurt others. It was, after all, an important thing. Who wants to hurt or be hurt? Not Bill.

It seemed that there was a never-ending number of things Bill would have to note. He would place a stone in his backpack and a stone in his chestpack, sometimes several per day.

Bills back was achy every day. And to be honest, his shoulders were sagging under the weight of the rocks and stones. But Bill trudged on, reminding himself of the importance of his project. He believed that one day, he would no longer be hurt. And one day, he would no longer hurt another person.

Strangely, Bill never seemed to notice that the day that happened was never today. It was always someday.

Then, one day, Bill couldnt move. It seemed that the last rock in the backpack and the last stone in the chestpack were just too much. Bill couldnt stand up and get off the bench. He had just stopped for a second, having just argued with someone. He was hurt, but he had also hurt the other person. A rock was added to each pack. And they were two rocks too many.

Bill tried to get up. But his legs would not budge the packs. Bill tried to get to the end of the bench, to gain a bit of momentum. But Bill could not get up. He was stuck.

Fortunately, Bill was a smart guy. He knew he had to change something. So, he started looking for some rocks he could discard. He rummaged through his chestpack, thinking there had to be some rocks and stones he could throw away. But each time he looked at one, he said, I cant let that one go. It is too important. I need to remember that. In the end, Bill left all the stones in his chestpack.