God’s Healing

I have three very dear friends, who shall remain nameless, that I have a lot in common with when it comes to the hurt our parents have caused us in our lives. And even though said friends may not know how they’ve helped me heal, they have been a strong influence on how I view my past.
Growing up I witnessed things that no person, let alone a child, should ever have to see, hear or feel. But for me to say that my mother was a terrible person would mean that I didn’t trust God to choose the right person to bring me into this world and raise me. I have to give credit to her for always making sure that I had a roof over my head, food on the table and clothing on my back. I can’t and shouldn’t judge her because I am not her. I do not know what she had to endure while raising five children on her own. I can’t imagine the financial hardship or the emotional strain it had on her. But I don’t think as a child or even a hurt adult that you think about the other person. First reaction is to play victim to our past and blame others for our faults created by our past. But at what age do we ‘man up’ and take control of our future and write a new story?
I write about this because it is a part of my healing and feeling like I’m really listening to God and the work he’s doing in my heart. And if you’ve known me for any length of time when I was a complete jerk to the ones I love and anyone around me, then this might make a little more sense to you.
For years I carried this image that life was grand and that my home life wasn’t bad. But when you carry such a lie in your heart it eats you alive and turns into darkness. I have to constantly remind myself that sharing my childhood is a part of what God has done in my life and to keep his work a secret pays him no credit where credit is due.
Three weeks before the girls and I moved to Atlanta my grandmother passed away. I will never forget where I was when I got the phone call. The night before I spent the night at my best friends house and the next day we took the kids to McDonalds. When I woke up that morning I knew something wasn’t right but I didn’t know what. Then that afternoon I received a voice mail from my mother telling me that my grandma passed away. I loved her to no end. I have nothing but good memories of her and when she passed I felt like I lost my real mother. For some reason I blamed my mom for my grandmother dying. But what I really think it was is that I blamed her for not being who I needed her to be in my life and now the one person who was, is gone. So I started to act very hateful towards my mother and haven’t spoken to her since June of 2006. And up until three months ago I was using my children against her. I know how much she loves them, as any grandmother would, but I would intentionally not tell her anything about their lives because I knew it would make her happy. And as a hurt person the last thing I wanted to do was make her happy.
Over the past three years I have been able to find the source of my hurt and it’s not necessarily that I was mad at her, I was mad at God for not showing me why I was raised in the life I was. But through some amazing friends I have been able to let go and have finally stopped hating her. I believe that God gave me the life he did so that I would appreciate my family that much more. Not a day goes by that I don’t thank God for my amazing husband and children. And I wonder if I had not had the life I did if I would or could appreciate it as much.
I believe my job as a mother is to stop the cycle of abuse and raise them according to God’s word.
I am able now to send her letters and pictures of the kids but I still have very strong boundaries with how much of her I let into my life. And maybe in time and through God’s work I can let all of her back into our lives. But for now, I have to protect my family and my soul.
I love you dear friends and thank you for being the silent inspiration you have been.
Now let’s start a club!! (Just kidding, had to throw some Kim humor in there)