God, pt 2

Mom is a product of her past. She was the 3rd child born. Her brother was 3 when she was born, her sister Pasty had died before mom's birth. I believe the death of Patsy shut off my grandmother's emotions and her ability to show love to her other children, at least until Mom's younger sister came along.

Mom was 4 when Aunt Wanda was born. Aunt Wanda was an epileptic, having both gran mal and pall mal seizures from infancy until at the age of 50, they were able to locate the damaged nerve and repair it. Meanwhile, at the age of 4, mom became the cook, housekeeper, etc until she married my dad. Not saying that my grandparents demanded of her without helping, but my aunt required lots of attention and care and my grandfather worked several jobs. It was wartime and at one point, they lived in a tent while trying to eek out a living.

Mom was always the dutiful daughter, never saying no to her parents as then she would not be honoring them. Same reason she did not divorce. It was against God and it would have brought shame to the family. Personally, I think some churches wrongly teach what it is to honor your parents or force spouses to stay in abusive situations equating God hates divorce with God hates you.

I did not know my dad. He died a few days after I turned 4. From all accounts, my father was a beloved son, husband, son-in-law, friend, etc.. Mom never grieved his loss, having been thrown into custody battles (my dad had no will) and trying to provide for 2 young girls. Until about 2 years ago, mom carried a lot of anger at God for taking my dad, saying she must have been bad for God to take him.... you know all the things satan whispers in our ears, all the lies, the deceit.

Mom remarried 4 years after my dad died. She married a horrible man with a lust for gambling, drinking, barmaids and very young girls. I was 8 when I became one of his victims. Mom knew it was happening, but through the years, lived in denial. Mom stayed married to him until he died a few years ago. Thinking about him still makes me want to puke. He tried to kill himself so many times. Why wouldn't God let him die? Why did mom always have to rescue him? The b.....needed to die!

I cannot understand why God has me with her in my home, knowing that in due time, I will become her caregiver,that I will have take care of the one who betrayed me oh so many times. Forgiveness. I forgive and forgive and forgive and then , wham, the past whispers in my ears one more time.

Mom is not a bad woman. She is a hard worker, she cares about people. Mom has finally started to bloom as a person. I do not always treat her with honor. I want her to suffer, to pay for her wrongs to me, so I treat her mean, reminding her how she was a bad mother. And what has all this gotten me. A miserable life. A life of bitterness, just like the one she has spent her life living. I can hate with a vengeneance. Hate comes way to easy to me.

Listening to Joyce Meyer this morning, God caught my attention. Joyce is speaking on the Fruits of the Spirit. Today's lesson, kindness. Kindness is heaping undue favor on someone, blessing your enemies...you get the picture. She talks about how the servant, who owed money, went to the master and told the master, "I have no means to pay" and the master forgave the debt (Matthew 18:25-27).

People who still your self-respect, your virginity or whatever, HAVE NO WAY TO PAY IT BACK. They cannot pay back what they took.

I need to chew on this awhile.