Shuffling through Mother’s and Father’s Day cards at the Hallmark store, looking for any that might mirror my thoughts and feelings, I was overcome with thankfulness to God at the tremendous change I have experienced. Decades of strained relationships with my parents and a sense of loss have been replaced by a knowing, steadfast love. Here is my story, written in the hope that it might help others find their way to healing.
I have good parents; they’re wonderful people, actually. They’re the hard-working, salt-of-the-earth kind of people that seem to serve as a link between the present and bygone eras. These days, we experience a free-flowing, loving relationship. We enjoy each other’s company. Instead of tension in trying to make conversation, we can barely break away from a visit because we have so much to talk about. But it wasn’t always like this. In fact, not so long ago, it was quite different.
It seems strange to me now how I could go so many years without comprehending key elements of my life. But then again, it’s more understandable in light of the fact that I married young and within a short time, my husband and I had a large family which occupied practically all my thoughts and time. But there were wounds in my soul, which I’ve come to see, affected all my relationships.
As far back as I can remember, I had a sense of being alone. When I was barely three years old, I told my Grandpa “A” that my mom and dad had each other, and my two brothers had each other, but I had no one. My grandpa thought it significant enough to tell this to my dad, and more than fifty years later, my dad still remembers this.
I felt what I called a “disconnect” with my mother. I was aware of vague facts about my early childhood, but didn’t give it much thought until a relative stated recently that my grandparents, for the most part, had raised me. Intrigued, I began piecing together time lines and asking my parents about those early years.
I was the third child of my parents, and their first girl. Before I was a year and a half old, some of my family were in a car accident. This was before the days of child car seats, and I was standing in the front seat. Mom saw that a crash was about to occur and had the presence of mind and quick reaction to grab me and throw me under the dash. Mom suffered a broken leg and a severely injured elbow, but the rest of us were unharmed. I was sent to live with my mom’s parents until mom was back on her feet again.
My family lived only a few miles from both sets of my grandparents. Though they were all around seventy years of age at this time, the grandparents were a great help in taking care of not only me, but also my two brothers. My mom’s leg didn’t heal properly and as a result, she did not walk for a full year. During this time my brothers lived at home but I continued to live with one set of grandparents and then the other.
My dad was a busy young farmer, with many responsibilities on his shoulders. He would bring my two brothers with him and come to visit me on Sunday afternoons. One of my earliest memories is seeing my tall, slim daddy coming across the lawn with the boys in tow. My Grandmother “G” said that if I happened to be eating when dad would arrive, I would sling my plate to the floor in an effort to get out of the high chair and get to him as soon as possible. I was daddy’s girl!
In the meantime, during the year mom couldn’t walk, she did all she could to help at home. She had a rolling chair to help her scoot around her kitchen so she could still get a meal on the table for dad and the boys and the extra farm help my dad employed. Soon after she could walk again, she discovered the family was about to grow larger. This time she was expecting twins!
My grandparents continued to take care of me often, before and after the twin girls were born. Then, when I was five years old, my Grandpa “G” died. Later that year, my youngest sister was born. And before I turned six, Grandpa “A”, who was the one I had grown closest to, also died.
I was daddy’s girl, but I didn’t get to spend much time with him. He always had many things to attend to and worked so hard. My mother’s hands were full with all the work of taking care of a large family; it seemed she was always busy. After losing both of my grandfathers, a part of my heart locked up.
For many years, I grieved for the kind of relationships I thought should have been, but never transpired. When I finally got a more accurate picture of what had happened during my early years and of the separation from my mother, and understood where the feeling of “disconnect” came from concerning her. Comprehending this truth, mixed with compassion, has been a great help to reconnect with my mom in recent years. I see beyond any doubt that my parents did the best they knew to do.
The relationship with my dad was more complex. Over the years, I often would work in a direction that I thought would please my dad, or make him proud. But the result was unsatisfying. It felt as if I was shooting towards a disappearing target; I never hit the mark.
In everyone’s heart and soul, there is a void that only God can fill although we may try to fill it in other ways. Various things color our perception of what the Father God is like: relationships with our parents, (or lack thereof), religious teachings, and our culture, to name a few. I thank God I had the opportunity to hear the gospel as a young person and received Jesus as my Savior. But since I had limited understanding of God’s abundant love towards me, for years I kept a fearful distance from Him. When I finally cried out to God to know Him more personally, He began to teach me astounding things. I began to see things in the Bible in a new light that showed me God’s true nature. Sometimes as I would read, memories of a painful incident or harsh words would come to mind. God the Father, through His Holy Spirit, would show me His thoughts, His love and His words for me through the exact time I was hurt, bringing healing to those memories. He overwhelmed me with His goodness!
As time went on, I continued to enjoy a wonderful, deepening relationship with my Father God. However, my relationship with my dad still troubled me. I was grateful for his help through the years, and his care for all of his family, but why was it so hard to relate to each other? I wondered what it really meant to honor your father and mother. As I talked to God about this, an idea came to me. I would go to my dad and spend time with him, and become interested in whatever he was interested in. I didn’t need to talk about my family or myself unless he asked. I would get to know my dad as if I was meeting a new friend, with no prejudices carrying over from the past.
I always knew that successful farmers need to be good business people. I grew up surrounded by farm business talk, and it nearly bored me to death. I learned early on to tune out those conversations. But now I went to my dad with the intent to listen and learn, and learn I did.
Dad likes to reminisce. I heard stories of his childhood and his early days in farming. I learned of the great financial pressure he was under when I was a kid, and of how a devastating cattle disease threatened to wipe him out of business. At the time, Dad had around 600 head of cattle and they were falling sick all around him. My dad was practically sick from worry. The local veterinarian was a Christian who did something Dad had never seen before; he’d pray for an animal before treating it. The vet also talked of how worry is not from God, and of how we can believe God to answer our prayers. On this particular day, the vet did something else that surprised Dad; instead of praying for the cattle, the vet prayed for Dad! The result was that the cattle recovered and disaster was averted. It was beautiful to hear my dad giving all the glory to God for that miracle, and for his success all through the years.
Something completely unexpected happened as I listened and talked with Dad… I found that we could relate on business! I was involved in business too, and it became our common ground. Soon, we didn’t just talk farm business, we talked about all kinds of things. And woven through our conversations was the grace of God, and sometimes we’d cry together as God touched our hearts. One day as Mom, Dad and I sat at their kitchen table, we joined hands and praised and worshiped God together. It felt as if we had come full circle; our relationships were complete.
As I write, I am well aware that there are those reading who need healing. In some cases, a parent with whom you’ve had a painful relationship is no longer living. Some of you have suffered extreme abuse or abandonment. One thing I’ve learned is that all healing begins with forgiveness. Forgiveness frees you, and allows the healing to begin. It takes courage to open up your heart where raw wounds remain. But the result may be the most liberating experience of your life. May you have hope to believe this is ‘A Time to Heal’.