Dying to Self

I’m tired.

I’m broken.

I’m hurt.

 

I’m so tired of watching my dad “die to self,” because that’s what God has told him to do. What God has told him to do, according to him. And all I see dying here, is any chance of whole, loving relationship. With me for certain; I can only pray that his “dying to self” won’t take too long before he ends up killing the relationship he has with the other kids. For their sake, of course, not his. They are the ones who need the relationship. He gets enough feel-goods out of the new girlfriend he has every other week, and over the past 7yrs he has shown that he can get along pretty fine with minimal relationship with his kids. But they still need their daddy.

We have a great step-dad. He has been a blessing in our life; he has been what our dad should. But even he can’t fill the chunk of our heart that dad tore out. That can only be replaced by him — our real dad. The way I see it, he has stolen a piece of our heart, and while we can protect the rest of our heart from further burglary, and we can build up a security system by filtering out the lies he tells us, we can’t replace the piece of heart he stole. Only he can return it. But that doesn’t look like that will happen. Because after 7yrs of nothing ever changing, because over a 22minutes conversation of him, again, explaining his “dying to self” and defending everything he ever has done, I know my real dad biologically isn’t going to  be our protector.

So I have had enough of his popping in and out of our lives, getting his quick fix of feeling good about being a dad. I can’t handle that right now! I have other areas of fresh pain to deal with. I have other stresses of life that I need to cope with. So I have told my dad to stop contacting me, stop hurting me. By doing this, I’ve removed the problem for the time being that I know is going to be exactly the same when/if I go try to solve it. In however many years (or weeks, in this case,) from now, my grandmother will have gone home to Heaven. In however many years from now, I will have worked and scrambled to get my degree and excel in school. And in however many years, dad will still be dying to self, trying to figure out what random rabbit hole God leading him to next — right where I’ve left him.

Also, in however many years, I will have had the chance to staunch the bleeding of my gaping heart, take the ragged pieces to God, and have him heal me. Because even though wonderful people can’t replace what a thief has stolen, since only the thief can return the original, there is still hope. Because I can go to the one who made my heart, and because he knows me best, and he knows exactly what is missing, he can craft a new piece of heart that perfectly fills the hole. He can mold a new piece with gentleness in his hands, he can give life to it with his breath, he can take that new bit of heart and fit it into the hole, can bind it all together in one, stronger, healthy whole heart. Then,  I can take my stronger, repaired, whole, tested and refined heart, and go forgive my dad for the hurt and the hole he gave me.

In however many years, while dad is still trying to die to self, my self will have come to true life. Because he can steal a piece of my heart, but he cannot steal my strength. He cannot steal my faith in God. And with my strength and faith in God, I will be remade and will be walking a path of life, and truth, and peace. Then I can walk down the path to where I left him, and with my new heart I can forgive him. I don’t know how long that will take, but I know it will happen. How do I know?

Because the journey has already begun.

 

I am tired.

I am broken.

I am hurt.

But that won’t last.

Soon, I will be refreshed.

Soon, I will be restored.

Soon, I will be healed.

Always safe, the hands of my God.