Gleaning From The Walls

Despereaux looked at his father, at his gray-streaked fur and trembling whiskers and his front paws clasped together in front of his ears, and he felt suddenly as if his own heart would break in two. His father looked so small, so sad.

“Forgive me,” said Lester again.

Forgiveness, reader, is, I think, something very much like hope and love, a powerful, wonderful thing.

And a ridiculous thing, too.

Isn’t it ridiculous, after all, to think that a son could forgive his father for beating the drum that sent him to his death? Isn’t it ridiculous to think that a mouse could ever forgive anyone for such perfidy?

But still, here are the words Despereaux Tilling spoke to his father. He said, “I forgive you, Pa.”

And he said those words because he sensed that it was the only way to save his own heart, to stop it from breaking in two. Despereaux, reader, spoke those words to save himself …

Despereaux stood before the Mouse Council, and he realized that he was a different mouse than he had been the last time he faced them. He had been to the dungeon and back up out of it. He knew things that they would never know; what they thought of him, he realized, did not matter, not at all …

After he was gone …

Only one mouse said nothing. That mouse was Despereaux’s father. Lester Tilling had turned his head from the other members of the Mouse Council; he was trying to hide his tears.

He was crying, reader, because he had been forgiven.

~ Kate DiCamillo, The Tale of Despereaux

Forgiveness serves two purposes – to heal the sorrowful heart of the offended and to heal the sorrowful heart of the offender. When we offend our heavenly Father, His heart is sorrowful. When we ask for forgiveness, and He forgives, then the sorrow of the hearts is shadowed by the love of forgiveness.

~ Gerrie