Romanov

by Nadine Brandes

To all those who have experienced hurt, and then dared to hope, dared to forgive, dared to live. You are proof that light will always prevail.

“We must show kindness to the soldiers,” Papa entreated us. “Every day, show them forgiveness. We are a reflection of Iisus, and he was rejected by his own people just as we are. Love. Forgive.” He kissed each of us on the forehead.

Nothing was more exhausting than putting forth kindness and receiving indifference in return.

Zash breathed out a long sigh. “What do you need? What can I—we—do for you to make you like”—he gestured toward Maria, a walking sunbeam of delight beside Ivan—“like that?”

His gaze was open. Real. Not the stiff soldier persona, and it made every word skip my head and land on my heart. “You find joy in so many little things. For once . . . I want to see joy find you. Surprise you. You deserve it.”

“Because I have a story I was meant to live. And not even you can unwrite it.”

I was no longer alone. And I was no longer strong. He took one look at me, his eyes shining, and opened his arms wide. “You did it.”

I realized that a part of forgiveness was accepting the things someone had done—and the pain that came with that—and moving on with love. Forgiveness was a personal battle that must always be fought in my heart. Daily. And though I was tired of running and surviving and fighting . . . I wasn’t ready to surrender that battle yet.

Because it takes more strength and courage to forgive than it does to enact revenge.”