Letters

Letters are interesting things. They communicate so much. And you don't even have to send them. You can burn them, tear them up and throw them away, put them in a bottle and toss them into the sea, put them in a balloon and send them up, up, and away, or do any number of things. Or, you can send it.

I'm sending a letter this summer. I've been wanting to send this letter to this person for some time, but the time has never been right.

Until now.

I've written him letters before. I lost one, and the others were just for me to vent, and not to send. I have written him letters to work through the forgiveness process, to direct my anger at him, and a few with the intent of sending. But, those with the intent fell through. It just wasn't time.

I decided the last week of March that I wanted to send a letter to my dad. I had just gotten a book review in a Fort Wayne newspaper and for some reason decided I wanted to send him copies of some of my published work. I didn't have an intent of sending a letter with it, but then, that's where my heart was.

I sat on the idea for a while, without telling anyone. After a few days, I decided to tell my roommate, counselor, and a few other trusted friends. They all seemed supportive and encouraged me to go for it. I took a few weeks to really think about some things. I thought about the pro's and con's, how I will be affected, asked questions, answered questions....and continued to really think about it. After all of the questions and consideration, I still felt in my heart that this was what I wanted to do.

So, I gathered a few of my trusted friends as a support system and set out to write my letter. I know that no matter what happens, I can look back on this and say that I know the outcome and can move on from this point. It's part of my healing process. I wanted to have a support system so that I can have an outsider's perspective on the situation. I also wanted to make sure that, if I lose sight of truth, I have someone who can point me back to it. I also wanted to have some people I trust who I can bounce ideas off of and who can read my letters to make sure I'm not opening myself up too much, but am only including what I want to include.

The reason this is such a big deal is because I have not seen my dad since I was three. He was abusive and definitely not what a dad is supposed to be. This is the first time we have had contact in 18 years. I don't even know if he will respond, but I'm prepared for that. I know who I am in Christ and am secure as His daughter. I think that's why it's time.

So, I have written a draft letter and sent it to my support system people. I have received positive responses and feel confident in sending it. Now, I just need to continue to pray for his reception of the letter, that his heart is prepared.

Letters, they're interesting things. They communicate so much. And you don't even have to send them. You can burn them, tear them up and throw them away, put them in a bottle and toss them into the sea, put them in a balloon and send them up, up, and away, or do any number of things.

Or, you can send it.

Changes

As you know by now, I reflect on a lot of things. Today while I was working out, I was reflecting on how I have changed. When I used to work out, I exerted myself through my anger. It was what drove me some days. I would take my anger out through running or doing tons of sit-ups, all the while feeling angry inside.

This year has brought many changes. Now, instead of turning my emotions into anger, I allow myself to feel them. Now, instead of feeling angry and hatred and shame, I feel joy, love, and acceptance. I am confident in who I am, because I am in Christ. I no longer loathe the fact that I don't have a dad, because I know I do. My Papa loves me and is there for me. He is my Heavenly Father, which is so much better than any earthly father. Now, instead of dreading Father's Day, I am actually looking forward to it! I am anticipating it.

I am no longer afraid, but have a boldness that surprises me sometimes. I no longer hate the fact that I am a woman, but actually enjoy it! Yes, I love wearing dresses! I never thought I'd see that day!

I am no longer bound, for I am free! I no longer dwell in darkness, but live in the light. I no longer go about with my face to the ground, but look people in the eyes. I no longer hate myself, but love who God made me to be. I no longer doubt that He exists, because I can say without a doubt that He does. He is so very real to me.

God has shown me so much this year. The verse in Isaiah that says He makes beauty from ashes is so true. It's what He has done in me. He loved my ashes enough to make beauty from them. He loved me enough to keep His hand on me, even when I tried to get away. I know my Papa is good, and I know that I never want to run again. He loves me so much more than I will ever know. His love for me is vast. It is wide, long, high, and oh so very deep.

There have been so many changes this year. I am only excited for what other changes there are going to be!

I'm the little girl sitting in her Father's palm, dangling her feet over the edge.

Breaking Free

Great Faith

As the money floated to different doctors through the years, my hope disappeared little by little each time I heard one say, “I'm sorry.” For twelve years, I have suffered. My money is gone, and my hope with it. My only chance is this Man.

…

Yesterday

“Unclean! Unclean!” I hurried past the shops, ignoring the frightened looks from passerby. One woman almost tripped as she tried to avoid me. Don't worry, I'm not going to touch you.

Would He do the same thing? Would He reject me for touching him, because I was unclean? Shaking my head to push the thoughts aside, I continued to make my way to Capernaum.

“Agh!” Doubling over in pain, I gripped my stomach. After a few moments, with tears flowing down my face, I pulled myself back up and continued walking. I had to see this Man.

…

“This is Michelle. Leave a message after the beep.”

Beep.

“Hey, it's me, Tina. Um, call me when you get this. Bye.” She must be working long hours at the hospital. I wonder how everyone's doing. In her mind, the video from that fateful day replayed itself. She felt the infected needle breaking through the glove to her skin. The phone's dial tone shook her from her thoughts. Punching in the familiar number, she held her breath. Please answer.

“You've reached Jena's phone. I'm not here, so leave a mes....”

Slamming the phone in it's cradle, the tears began to fall.

“I've left messages!” She yelled at the phone. “What's wrong with everyone? It wasn't my fault! It was a freak accident! It's not contagious! They won't get AIDS by talking to me or hanging out with me.” Dropping to her knees, the tears fell faster. “Lord, are you even there?”

...

Today

People from the surrounding towns and countrysides were gathered at the water's edge, awaiting the Man's boat to come to shore. After hearing stories of what He had done on the other side of the lake, they brought their sick in hopes that he would heal them, too.

As soon as the Man stepped on shore, the crowd surrounded Him. He wrapped his torn, dirty cloak tight around him as the wind blew harder.

“Jesus! Jesus!” The crowd parted to let a well-dressed man through to Him.

Keeping my distance so not to be seen, I watched as he fell to Jesus' feet.

“My daughter is dying!” He cried. Please...please, come and lay your hands on her. Heal her, so she can live.”

Jesus gently lifted him from the ground and motioned for him to lead the way. They, along with the multitude, began migrating toward the man's house.

This is my chance.

…

Tina laid the Bible down on the bed-stand tray and bowed her head. “Lord, this woman had such great faith. She believed that when she touched your cloak, she would be healed. Father, I know you can heal me. You are the greatest doctor, capable of healing any disease, even AIDS. Thank you that you will heal me. I know it will be in your time, but I know you will do it.” She paused, wiping tears away from her eyes. “God, thank you for my healing.”

“Knock, knock,” the doctor said, entering her antiseptic-smelling hospital room.

…

The wind blew the dust in my eyes. I'm sure my face was bathed in mud, my tears caking the dust to my face. Staying as low to the ground as I could, I began making my way through the crowd, careful not to touch anyone lest I be seen.

Thoughts raced rapidly through my mind. If I can just touch His robe, I will be healed. But, what if someone stops me and calls me out before I can touch Him?What if He rejects me like the rest of them What if I'm stoned for touching this man? As I looked up from crawling on the worn, dusty path, I found myself within an arm's reach of His robe. Closing my eyes, I stretched my arm out and grabbed hold of the end of the ragged cloth.

…

“Tina, I'm afraid this is it.” The doctor shook his head. “I'm sorry.”

“How long?”

“A few more hours, maybe,” he replied.

Tears ran down her face. “I'm ready.”

“Are you sure? Do you want the chaplain to come in and pray with you?” He asked.

“No. I'm fine. I know I'm going to be healed. If this is it, I'm ready.”

The doctor stood, befuddled. He'd never had an AIDS patient, or a cancer patient for that matter, so full of faith as this woman.

“Okay, then. I will come and check on you in an hour.”

“Alright,” she replied, reaching for her Bible.

As the doctor walked out of Tina's room, he heard her singing. He paused at the door, looking back to see Tina with her hands raised, face toward the ceiling. Shaking his head, he continued out the door.

…

Immediately, my bleeding stopped.

“Who touched my robe?” Jesus asked, turning to scan the crowd. I shrank back into the forest of legs, afraid and unsure of what was going to happen next.

“Look at this crowd pressing around you,” said a man standing next to Him. “How can you ask, 'Who touched me?'”

“ I know someone touched me. I felt healing go forth from me.” He continued to scan the crowd.

From my hiding place, my body refused to stop shaking. I'm healed!I'm really healed!

“Who touched me?” He asked again.

Trembling, I ran and fell at His feet.

“It was me. I touched your robe,” I said, full of shame, fear, and expectancy.

He gently placed his hand on my head.

“Rise, my child.”

…

The next hours passed slowly and with much pain.

“Lord,” she said in gasps, “I'm ready.”

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.

The next thing she knew, Tina felt no more pain. She could breathe normally and was on her knees before a bright light. She felt a hand resting gently on the crown of her head.

“Rise, my child.”

…

“Daughters, your faith has made you well. Your suffering is over.”

Surrender

So, you know the little girl who is screaming, kicking, and flailing while her dad holds her in his arms and her fit only makes him hold onto her even tighter? That's me. And I'm done throwing my tantrum. I'm ready to surrender.

Surrender. My definition is 'letting go; to give up; to release my grip on whatever it is I'm holding onto so tightly.'

I've been fighting for a really long time. It's only about time I wore myself to exhaustion with this tantrum. So, what have I been holding onto?

A longing. A desire. A dream.

A longing, a desire, and a dream that one day, I will know the hug of an earthly father; that I will know what it is to be able to cry on a dad's shoulder, sit in his lap...to have a physically intimate relationship with a daddy that is completely innocent and pure.

But, I know this is not possible here on earth.

I also know that God can fill this longing. But, how? He's not a physical God; He's not tangible.

This is where my dilemma falls: How do I have this physically intimate father/daughter relationship with a God who is not tangible?

The answer: He wants me to stop looking to others to fill them, because they can't. He wants me to look to the One who can. He wants me to give those desires, longings, and dreams back to the One who gave them to me in the first place.

Whoa! Wait! What? Give them back?!?

I know. That's what I thought. I thought, "How can I do that? That is admitting they will never be filled on earth in the tangible way I want."

He has shown me through my wrestling with Him on this that no, they will never be filled the way I want, but they will be filled. And if they will never be filled on earth, why hang onto something that will only remain empty?

He will fill them. Not only is He able, but He is willing.

It just won't be the way I want or am expecting.

He knows what is best for me. He knows me inside and out.

But, to surrender this means I have to have a child-like faith, and the trust a child has in her father.

God has already shown me He is good in other areas. What makes me think He won't be in this area? Of course, the enemy and the doubts he puts into my mind. But, Satan is a liar. So, what he tells me is a lie. I know my God is good.

So, this trust I need to have...it's a feeling like none I can explain. It is the calm after the storm. It's the daughter hanging limp in her Father's arms after she's exhausted herself from her tantrum. It's knowing that nothing bad is going to happen, because she is in her Father's arms and they are strong. It is knowing that He wasn't about to let her go during her tantrum, and He's not going to now. It's knowing that He walks beside her, hand in hand, down a road unknown to her. It is knowing that it is safe to surrender.

And I know all of these things, because He is good.