Sometimes, when people hurt us, they cannot (or will not) ever understand how their behavior irrevocably altered our lives. How their actions assisted in parting our very existence into the moment before that happened. . . from every moment to come.
For 145 days, I’ve watched this story replay in my mind. For 145 days, I wanted her to hurt as badly as I do. As he did. If only she would’ve acknowledged the cruelty and betrayal before that night. She didn’t just break his spirit, his heart. WE’RE ALL BROKEN.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think of ways to destroy her in my darkest hours of grief and anger. What I would do to her the moment I saw her again. I thought of how I’d deliver the wretched irreversible hell that she packaged for me. And those I hold closest to my heart.
But, grace. I’m told there is no victory in vengeance. At least at my hands. There is nothing that I will ever do (to repay her this burden) for which The Lord cannot serve in His own time. IN HIS WILL, if He so chooses.
I’m digesting that.
Truthfully, I K N O W that my peace comes from letting go of my brother’s burdens (which aren’t mine to bare) and forgiving. While I’m not complete in that effort, I am getting closer to that place every day. And I won’t stop trying. Not because she asked. Most certainly not because she deserves it or even acknowledges what her self-serving actions caused; but because I need my joy back. My children deserve their mommy. My husband deserves his partner, too.
And I’m convinced that my inner peace will arrive the moment I am able to walk away from the diseased memory her existence bares my heart knowing that while she sabotaged his life and robbed from our family like a thief in the night, someday God will restore my joy.
Lord, I recognize that I’m a work in progress. I’m quick to anger and slow to forgive. I speak before I think. I react before reflecting. So, I ask you to pursue my heart. REFINE ME, Lord and restore my peace. Let this valley of death be used for You. LET JUSTIN’S LIFE bring You glory. I know You are here, God, even when I don’t feel you. Even when it hurts. EVEN WHEN THE PAIN IS MORE THAN I CAN HANDLE. When the anger inside me catapults and I scream out to you for answers, only to hear quiet all around me. Even then, I’m not alone. Sometimes I feel unheard. I feel isolated in my grief. It’s then that I cling to the hope that this life is not permanent. That in our final resting place, we will all find each other again. That you will restore what has been stolen and broken and mend it all. God soften my edges so that even when I am shattered in pieces, I will lift my eyes to you.
And until we’re all restored,
I’ll leave this in the crevices and darker corners of my thoughts.
When you pass through the waters,
I will be with you;
and when you pass through the rivers,
they will not sweep over you.
When you walk through the fire,
you will not be burned;
the flames will not set you ablaze.