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My hand hovers over the keyboard.  All that's left is to click on "Purchase."  But I can't do it. Maybe I should take the 3:55 flight instead of the 12:45 so I will have more time for last-minute packing and not feel so rushed getting to the airport. No, the later flight gets in during rush hour and I don't want to get my sister stuck in traffic when she's hosting Christmas and has a million things to do.  

What if I haven't picked the right travel days?  Maybe I'm going too early and should wait 'til the 24th. What if staying through New Year's will make the trip too long?

Beneath all this waffling lurks the bigger question: Do I really want to spend the holidays with my family? Do the emotional benefits outweigh the emotional costs? The last holiday I spent with them was Thanksgiving two years ago and it was disastrous. I seem to get along much better with everyone when I'm hundreds of miles away.

I do miss my mom. Earlier this year she moved to the memory unit of her nursing home. As her dementia progresses, each time I talk to her I brace myself for what new piece of her has slipped away. She lives almost completely in the moment -- sometimes a pretty cranky moment. In a 15-minute phone call we have the same conversation a dozen times.  

But we still make each other laugh, and it breaks my heart when she says, "Why don't you live closer? There's an extra bed in my room, you could stay here." There's no telling how much longer she'll even know who I am. I don't want to end up with lingering regrets about not moving heaven and earth to spend as much time with her as I can.

Then there are my nieces and nephew. The oldest is in graduate school and we poke each other now and again on Facebook. Her brother just turned 18, and one of my biggest regrets about moving is missing most of his life from age 9 on. My youngest niece is 11, still a kid but growing up fast.

OK, I'm a bad aunt and a bad daughter and clearly I need to spend this Christmas with my family. Still my hand hovers and I can't make that final click.

It occurs to me this might be the perfect time to experiment with Preemptive Forgiveness. I was introduced to the concept recently and have been meaning to try it as part of an attempt to fold meditation and mindfulness into my life.  

As a storyteller, I think and feel for a living, but when my inner critic gets behind the wheel the thoughts and feelings aren't so useful. With all the hours she puts in, if my self-critic made even minimum wage I would be a very rich woman. 

Time to give preemptive forgiveness a whirl.


No matter what day I leave, I'll wish I had one more day to get ready. Sometime during the visit -- make that 20 times -- I'll wish I'd booked a return flight that leaves This Very Instant. If I book flights that make the visit really short, I'll wish I could stay longer. 

There is no right choice. Whatever I do, Future Me will end up cursing Past Me. Present Me must accept this and preemptively forgive them both.  

I move on to try preemptively forgiving my family. One brother will be pleasant and inscrutable. The other will be mostly silent and, when he does speak, make me want to grab a dictionary and look up the difference between sarcastic and sardonic. My self-critic will have lots to say about the ways it's my fault that we're not closer.  

My sister and I are close, which makes the friction between us harder. She and my self-critic are not the same but they do seem to share an opinion of me. She will give advice I don't ask for and ask harmless questions in an accusatory tone.  

Instead of trying to find the elusive magic formula to make everyone get along, I forgive us all right now. They are who they are, just as I am who I am; and I suspect who I am can be infuriating to them.  

What else do I need to forgive ahead of time? 

Sometime during the trip I will wish I was home in my own bed and hadn't come at all. I will also wish that I'd never moved away.  

I will sit surrounded by these people who drive me crazy and miss them desperately while we're in the same room. I'll be caught in the paradox of feeling homesick wherever I am and wonder if I will ever feel truly at home again anywhere. 

I will spend time with my mom riding waves of love and loss, but at least for a while I'll be with her. When she is gone, I will regret every moment I wasn't there. 

Every day of my life I will say or do the wrong thing and not say or do the right thing -- and my self-critic will keep score. I take a deep breath, forgive her, and click "Purchase."

, story coach and communication consultant based in Minneapolis.

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Nancy Donoval

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Let's try forgiving ourselves and our families in advance for the offenses we are about to give and receive.

An early start on the season of giving and forgiving

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