It often happens this way.
After a long day my thoughts turn to them. I try not to think of what they’re thinking. Part of me doesn’t want to care and the other part doesn’t want to not care.
These hurts are…a series of paper cuts.
Sacrifices wrapped in angry words, late nights, hopelessness and denied dreams.
None of you appreciated, nor understood, sacrifices.
Sacrifices my body yielded you, weakened me, grew my feet from 8.5 to 10. A pretty girl with a good brain and opportunities-numerous opportunities set aside for each of you. My dreams, some gone without a chance of returning.
The biggest sacrifice being my sanity, forcing myself to stay in misery when I could have BEEN free-all it would have cost me was your male father figure and your choice. Same one who poisoned you against me. He fed you lies, you ate and got full. And you enjoyed the taste. You didn’t appreciate or care for the bite of truth. Still don’t. You’d rather eat pretty poison that rots from the inside out rather than have your fat bellies pumped.
I will not pretend to be sorry about refusing Egypt. Freedom was too sweet for me to return to bondage. Not even for you. You don’t see my blood sweat and tears rolled into you.
I would say it’s of no consequence. I wouldn’t take this so hard if you weren’t going to suffer. But you will, the longer you stay away, the longer you won’t forgive…the longer you allow the rebellious, confused one lead you…you will suffer as he will and already is beginning to. He will never allow you to see it, nor will he accept blame. And none of you can see the reason you are so influenced by him is because it is the same manipulative spirit your father had. I didn’t realize it before today. And it got there because of rebellion.
And so I will pray and ask for forgiveness for my oart, for holding on to fleeting feelings and confusion and animosity…because this fight got picked with me to destroy my legacy. But if my relationship with my mom can be restored and renewed…y’all ain’t got a chance. My God restore us. This I know as sure as I write this.
My prayers are for your every door to be shut until it leads you to Jesus. It’s funny how we reap what we sow. And I’m no exception. Some of this I sowed by not listening and ignorance.
There is hope. THE hope that God fixes all brokenness, that His goodness and mercy extends to generations that love Him. You love Him…the seed is there…it just needs to germinate and bloom. It will because God doesn’t lie.
This keeps me in moments ike this…when I don’t know what or how to do. Get this out of my brain onto paper to see how camouflaged the truth can be when viewed through the lens of hurt, tiredness and sometimes unforgiveness. When I get honest about this conflict that Paul and David and Peter experienced.
At the end of it all, it’s knowing this is another work that must be completed, and He who has authored this faith will finish it. His word will not return void. Knowing that this extends to my prayers, feelings and wonderings about you. That He will make this wilderness into a fruitful field…that when he has shown me that you will be flung out of chaos, it means your deliverance, and I’ll get to see God work His way onto you.
Nothing is too hard for God, especially not our light amd momentary trouble. So, in the meantime, I’ll wait until your appointed time…and mine.