Thursday, July 8, 2010

An open letter to the man that could have destroyed my life

To the man that could have destroyed my life.

For fourteen years I have wondered what last Wednesday would feel like. The day I would see you again.
I saw you in a pub at midday on a Wednesday, at least I have the excuse that I was having lunch.

In you walked, up the ramp past my table and up to the bar.
I sat there staring at the back of your head, you actually cut off your mullett.... congratulations.
My Mum returned from the ladies room, watching her, my beautiful mother in ruby, looking every bit the confident, strong and protective nurturer - adorned in the spiritual crown of Kings and Queens, lace her way back into the room - I cannot believe this same woman stole us away from your hands. She picked us up, sheltered us in her wings and nabbed us from the story you only ever hear about through a friend of a friend.

I hate what you did to my widowed mother. I hate what you did to my brother that was grieving for his father. I hate what you did to the 7, 8, 9, 10 year old me. Back then, only you knew it was wrong. Today I'm a woman, now we both know it was wrong. You should be ashamed.

You don't owe me a sorry, you owe my step father a thank you. He picked up those terrible broken pieces of our lives and put them back together. It has been hard for him to go through our pain, to reteach us what love actually is and to show us what to expect in Husbands and Fathers. If it werent for him, the man of God he is, I could have let you destroy my life by living in unforgiveness, hate and anger. Who knows what that might have meant for you this last time I saw you.

I hold my head high today, no longer does the sound of a slamming microwave send my heart into overdrive and fear. No longer are you the huge man that could squash the biggest of men. You were small. You were nothing special. Obviously someone with little man syndrome.

You know that we saw you and you should know that it felt good walking up to the counter next to you, to feel you look at me and recognise me. It felt good interrupting to address our mutual friend that you were talking to, only to say bye to her, and making it obvious we wanted no part of the past. Cause that is all you are.
The past.

For God so loved the world, He gave His one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life - John 3:16

You dont deserve name suppression, but I dont deserve what Christ did on the cross for me. I believe in the God of second chances, the God that forgives those who ask.

I forgive you.
I forgive you for what you did to my widowed mother. I forgive you for what you did to my brother grieving for his father. I forgive you for what you did to the 7, 8, 9, 10 year old me.

I've chosen to let go of you. Dont try to get my attention again if you run into me for a second time. You are the end of a sad chapter in my story... a chapter that has closed and that has taught me alot. Thank you for showing me what not to expect in a Man and a Father.
That is one good thing I can take from you.

I pray that you don't get what you deserve, but that you have a true revelation of heart.
That you see that it was someones Mother you beat, that it was someones brother you belittled, that it was someones daughter you almost destroyed. And that you stop drinking on a Wednesday lunchtime.

From the Author and Creator of "cause things are still beautiful 2nd time around" ... cause they truely are.

9 comments:

  1. What a beautiful post, and what an amazing woman. And what a moving description of how God takes the mourning, and turns it into gladness. I admire you. x

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  2. What an amazing story. Thank you for sharing that with us in Blogland. You are brave, graced, blessed, and forgiven.

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  3. xox - moving and real. Thanks for sharing.

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  4. thanks ladies, i appreciate you taking the time to give some feedback.
    I wrote it with "readers" in the backseat of my mind. It was more like a diary entry of expression and something I could look back on to remind me of victories ive experienced in life.
    xo

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  5. thanks for the post... you're an inspiration xo

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  6. My gosh that is one powerful piece of writing girl! Your maturity and grace and articulation of pain is profound! (I know, can you believe it, you really are mature - well at least some of the time). I hope to one day be able to write with such honest freedom and forgiveness. You teach me much and inspire me forwards. I have been blessed by the intersection of our lives - certainly a divine appointment! xx Shell

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