Sometimes you are lounging on a lily pad in Monet’s Garden and sometimes your legs are fried on a plate in a Micheline Star Restaurant. Beccalynn navigates it with theology, humor, art, crafting and words. If we live a life filled with love the more love we discover. No matter where our flippers land.
Thursday, February 5, 2015
An Era of Threads Part 4
the case against Uncle dragged on, laws changed within the molestation
epidemic. By the time it came to trial, the cousins’ and my testimony was no
longer admissible. Statute of limitations had passed. Two Sisters would face
the trial. The case continued to drag until the last moment when Uncle plead No
Contest. His sentence was Community Service.
settled, Grandma Edna renewed her vigilant pressure of bringing the family
together. Birthdays. Holidays. Anniversaries. All of us in different places of
found myself not caring about what she thought. Her discomfort did not bother
I did dread however were the funerals. Only three important ones remained. My
I would need to attend and pay my last respects. Honor their lives and support
my Dad as he grieved the loss.
went first. She was an immigrant from Switzerland. I spent a few nights with
her when I was little. Within her was a sweet resolve. A similar fierceness to
Grandma Edna, but a gentleness and grace. I greatly admired that quiet dignity.
With only a few years of, I attended her service and wake. It was the first
time I had seen Uncle. I felt a little sick, but not falling apart. He stayed
on one side of the room and we the other.
the time Grandpa Johnny passed away, I understood a little about forgiveness.
Giving up my right to get even, be vindicated or even see justice was a start.
The longer I wished him ill. I understood the verse, “Vengeance is mine, says
was God’s job to judge. I don’t know what wounds Uncle carried which influenced
his choices. Who knows, maybe Uncle simply paid forward a violation he
needed to stop being afraid.
needed to get out of God’s way as judge.
my own healing, I needed to forgive
at Grandpa Johnny’s graveside, I approached Uncle.
shaking hands and a trembling heart, I looked into his eyes. I said, “I forgive
you.” Then hugged him. A peace flooded my soul. The words, “It is finished”
breathed within me. Then I walked away.
doesn’t mean a Do Over. It doesn’t mean access to my life. It simply means I
accept the same God that judges me, will judge him. The same sun that warms me,
warms him. The same air I breathe, he breathes.