The Apology

"I don't like your wedding. It was horrible."

So said my 4 year old nephew a few weeks after Rob and I tied the knot.

Little rotten stinker, I thought. Especially since he'd been given the privileged position of 'Ring Bear' (adapted from Ring Bearer) and part of the procession and all that. I could feel the guile and indignation rising in me.

But he's a four year old. I wasn't going to let it ruin my day.

Mortified by his behaviour, his parents took him aside for a stern dressing down. Sheepish, he slinked up to me and mumbled, "Shorry, Joey."

I was pleased he'd acknowledged he'd hurt my feelings. I felt superior in being able to say, "It's ok - I forgive you." Then I felt bad because I was lording it over a 4 year old.

It was awkward for him, and it was awkward for me. We were glad it was over and we both moved on.

Saying sorry is really an exercise in self-forgiving, an acknowledgment of a transgression, and a commitment to make amends. Likewise to forgive is a gift you give yourself, not the other person.

So I thought until yesterday.

Like many others around the nation, I watched the Australian Prime Minister Kevin Rudd together with the Leader of the Opposition Brendan Nelson issue a formal apology in the House of Commons to the 'Stolen Generations' of the Aboriginal people. These are the people who were forcibly removed from their homes following racist policies of the first 70 years of this century.

What does it mean to say 'I'm sorry' for the separation of mothers from their children, from siblings from each other, to tear apart a family, communities, and a culture? How do you say 'sorry' for that?

Some had waited 50 years to hear the word 'sorry' come from the head of government, and had suffered all these long years feeling cast aside, abused, neglected, torn asunder in every physical and spiritual way. Hearing 'sorry' was for them an acknowledgment of their humanity, an appreciation of their inherent rights as human beings, a message of, 'yes - you are important, you do matter, and we understand your pain.'

Many had the strength to do this for themselves. They found peace and pride and resilience in spite of their past, in spite of the abuse.

Others had forgiven long ago. One lady tells the story of a fellow Aboriginal stockman who led the welfare men to the kids hidden on the banks of the river, where they found her and her brothers and sisters. They never saw their mother again. The stockman sought her ought, many years later, to say 'sorry' and find some relief from his profound and twisted grief at the wounds he'd inflicted. She forgave him long ago; it was time now to forgive himself.

And so this is where the act of an apology hangs so awkwardly: the pain of those who suffered, the pain of those who caused the suffering. Saying 'sorry' draws a filament of power and pain between two injured and suffering parties.

The real shift in healing to wellness happens when each can feel in their hearts that they forgive, and release the past to welcome a bright and beautiful new beginning as loving, honouring, and peaceful partners in prosperity, abundance, and wellness.

To hear this happen, to feel it happen, en masse, for a whole nation? The tears flowed, the heart cracked wide and shone with love. It was a truly magic moment. And for once in a nation's history we were united in love and the overwhelming urge for peace and acceptance.

Thank you for this most wonderful Valentine's Day present.