As I sit writing this, the seasons have changed here in the northeast United States. Technically, Summer ended last weekend, but tomorrow, October 1st, is when the joy of Autumn will really arrive.  The trees are just starting to morph into a beautiful tapestry of orange, gold, and crimson. We’ll be blessed with a harvest of apples and pumpkins. Comfy sweaters will emerge from our closets. And we’ll snuggle under warm blankets as the nights get cooler.

Every one of the seasons has its own beauty.  Spring signifies renewal as the earth begins to awaken and God’s creatures give birth to the future of their species. Then Summer arrives with the warmth of the sun, incubating the vegetation that bursts forth with colorful flowers and food from God’s bounty.  Winter is a time of tranquility as we spend more time indoors, resting and waiting for Spring’s renewal, often as beautiful mounds of snow cover our world in a blanket of pure white.

But Autumn is my favorite of all the seasons, as life slowly moves into that time of rest, yet still holds onto the joy of those final harvests and brilliant colors.  Then in November we turn our thoughts toward our blessings as we gather to celebrate Thanksgiving, and I celebrate the day God gave the world the presence of one of the most remarkable people I’ve ever known . . . my Dad.

My Dad is always in my heart and often on my mind.  Each day there is something that makes me think of him and the opportunities he gave to me and my three younger siblings. This is most significant, because he gave to us freely, without a sense of obligation or necessity. He chose to provide for us.  He chose to guide us. He chose to LOVE us. He chose us!  

Oftentimes I find myself explaining my choice to hyphenate my last name after I married my darling JC.  It does tend to get confusing, like at the pharmacy when I’m picking up prescriptions for both of us… “His is under R, but mine will be under H.”  Sometimes I say that I chose to partly keep my maiden name because I’m half-adopted, which usually leads to more confusion. But how do you explain the incredible feeling of knowing how amazing it is to be chosen, especially after being completely rejected?

Rejection is brutally painful. But a healing process begins when another person chooses to love us through the pain and anger. That process . . . that love . . . helps me to truly understand the words written by the apostle Paul:

The Spirit you received does not make you slaves, so that you live in fear again; rather the Spirit you received brought about your adoption to sonship.  And by him we cry, “Abba, Father.”

Romans 8:15 (NIV)

Our Father in heaven chooses us. He loves us!  No matter what happened in the past, He forgives us!  And He doesn’t ask much in return. Worship Him, be with Him, LOVE Him!  But also love what He created. Love His other sons and daughters…

37 Jesus replied, “ ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’  38 This is the first and greatest commandment.  39 And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ “

Matthew 22:37-39 (NIV)

Forgiveness is crucial to loving others. Even the actions that have caused traumatic, unforgettable pain, must be forgiven.

Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you have a grievance against someone.  Forgive as the Lord forgave you.

Colossians 3:13 (NIV)

Forgiveness is a gift God gives to us. I don’t just mean His grace and mercy. I mean our forgiveness of others. Holding onto grudges only hurts us, making us victims all over again. Grudges create anger, bitterness, hate, and an empty hole where Love should be. Grudges are mood-poisoning! I know this firsthand.

I spent a lot of my life…decades…feeling angry and bitter toward my biological father, a man that brought destruction and downright brutality into our home. Children should never witness what we did, and they shouldn’t have to feel rejected by someone that is supposed to love, cherish, and protect them. Over time, those awful feelings were tucked away, but still there like a festering wound under a scab of emptiness. I reached a point where I rarely ever thought about him.

Of course, life moved forward. My Mom married my Dad, and we kids were adopted by him. There were good times and some not so good, like when Dad battled the esophageal tumor that would eventually take him from us. But even that had its moments of beauty. The first time I consciously felt the Presence of Holy Spirit was when I sat late one night in Dad’s hospital room, my Bible opened on my lap as I prayed for strength.

Yet, even with Holy Spirit’s guidance, I still struggled with that inability to forgive. I held on to grudges like they were a part of my being. “Why did my Dad have to get sick and die? That other one should suffer. Maybe he did. I hope he did!”  That soul infection seeped out from under the edge of that hateful scab. 

Then one day in 2014, I was talking to my cousin on the phone. This cousin is special to me, because he is also my godson. When I was 14 years old, my aunt (my godmother) and uncle chose me and my Dad as Scott’s godparents. Coincidentally, years later, a close friend chose me as godmother for her youngest son. Both of my godsons share a birthday . . . today . . . September 30th. In that phone conversation, the subject of forgiveness came up. Scott told me about a fantastic book he’d just read called The Shack. He later mailed it to me.

Last weekend at a conference at our church, I was overwhelmingly blessed to listen to that book’s author, William Paul Young, as he spoke about his life, how he came to write that life-changing book, and his journey toward understanding forgiveness.  I approached him on Saturday night and asked him to sign my copy of The Shack, telling him how I’ve read it at least once a year, and how his book led me to finally forgive my biological father. That was a memory I’ll always cherish, as he wrote a beautiful inscription in my book and gave me a big hug! Meeting one of my favorite author’s was amazing, but more so because the book he signed was what finally ripped off that scab I’d worn for way too long.  All that poison of hatred and anger was washed away by the healing waters of forgiveness!

The first time I finished reading The Shack I totally understood God’s grace. Then I asked myself, “Who do you need to forgive most of all?” The anger, sadness, fear, and abandonment rose up like an evil beast as I thought of the man I’d wanted to forget. But I put on the Full Armor of God and battled that beast until it was gone! I chose forgiveness so that my true Father could heal my soul.

Then I started a search for him, the man that had caused so much pain. I wanted to tell him that I forgave him, to ask him about his life, to learn if he knew Jesus, to ask if he ever thought about us, to ask why he didn’t want us. I suppose I sought some kind of closure.  The blessing of the internet made things easy. I found his name in a matter of minutes, and the fact that he’d died in 2011 . . . on September 30th, the third reason this date has a trinity of significance for me.

After the initial shock wore off, I felt regret that I hadn’t tried to find him sooner, that there would be no conversation, that I would get no answers . . . at least, not yet.  And then I felt something that surprised me . . . sadness, maybe even grief. And I realized I’d done it! I’d actually forgiven him.

I also realized that I didn’t really need those answers. God had put my Dad into our lives. He gave us an earthly father that was everything a dad should be. We were truly blessed!

Over the years, when telling people how to spell my last name, I’ve said it’s like “hope” with an extra “P” . . . and I think the extra “P” is because my Dad was so very sPecial! His name was David, which means Beloved.

Laurie E. Hoppe-Ringer

September 30, 2023