Forgiving the father.

Dear Daddy

I forgive you Daddy, for what you did.
And I love you Daddy for who you were.
But, I can’t pretend that I still do not hurt.

The ‘intellectual’ and ‘pastoral’ side of me understands.

But the little girl is hurt. 
The little girl still cries. 
The little girl doesn’t understand.

A little girl’s love interrupted … Innocence, crushed.

I hurt, but I forgive.
I was betrayed, but I forgive.
I was abused, but I forgive.

I carry that little girl around with me every day.
My childhood was shattered, but still, I forgive.

Disgust and love,
Juxtaposed in the midst of
wrong, and wrong and WRONG again,
Between forgive and forget.

I hurt…never to forget.
And yet, I choose to forgive you.

As confusing as the words choose, chose and chosen can be,
I choose to forgive you. 
You see, it is a daily action, this forgiving business.

I have also chosen to put it out of my mind,
But it creeps back up and out
each time I share my story, with others who may
have experienced the same thing.

It creeps back up and out
on days like "Father's Day".

Did you have any idea of the damage you caused?

Of course not. I choose to believe that you didn’t
(that's a daily action, as well)

But you did. 
You damaged me…almost beyond repair.

...and I almost didn't make it!

Someone once said to me: 
"You should've been dead, a long time ago"...
and you know what, Daddy?  They were right. 
I should have. 

But then there is God.
Who chose to step in,
(for me, with God, there is no present action - just an 'always' action)
God doesn't choose to step in on a 'daily' basis. 
For me, God is always there. 

God let me know that I was HIS child.
It was God, who stepped in and
put people in my life who let me know
that I was not beyond repair. 

It was God who stepped in
and put someone in my life who told me:
"It was never your fault"...

and I heard it with my heart, and my soul.
you see, Daddy, no one ever told me that. 
I had never heard it before...or maybe I am no longer
in 'survival' mode...and am able to receive it now.

I receive it,
and I still forgive you, and I love you.
I choose to love you, as Christ loves me.
I choose to love you, because Christ chose me. 
I am God's chosen one. 

I'm sorry I didn't make it to your funeral.
I'm sorry you cried for me, and I was not around.

I choose to think you wanted to apologize.
I was running for my life (better yet, running away from my life).
I ran until you died.  I chose to get help for my addiction.
(which I'm sure you know by now, was a result of attempting to medicate my life, so that I would not feel everything that had been done to me). 

I chose to do that 25 years ago. 
Your death gave me life. 

...and then one day, I put my running shoes back on. 

I'm running a marathon, now. 

I don't know what the distance is. 
I don't know where the finish line is. 
I'm running the good race, with Christ at my side. 

Some days I am sprinting, some days I am jogging,
some days it is all I can do, but walk.  I try to pace myself,

because I still have lots of work to do.
I'm finally dealing with that hurt little girl.
It's painful, but I am safe.  She needs to be bought back into my fold. I am incomplete without her, and she is incomplete without me.

Before I go, I just thought I would thank you for the gift and love of writing.  I'm writing a book now.  And yes, there is painful stuff in there.  But it helps my healing process, and will be a help to so many out there - who are living in silence and shame.  They need to know:  "it was never their fault".

and yes, Daddy...'the pen is mightier than the sword'.

Praying I see you on the other side. 


...And ain't I a woman? (Sista Sojourner Truth)


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