Words teeter on the edge of my fingertips. My heart bursts with so many things I’d like to say, but when it comes right down to letting those words out, I can’t. I wonder…what is wrong with me? Why can’t I just write what is there, waiting to be released? Why do I continue to allow fear to taunt me?
Fear is an awful dread.
A little girl, who must have been about eight or nine years old, hung for dear life to the back of an old couch. The couch, shoved against and facing a wall, became life support. Brown-haired child hung on to that couch for dear life, as her mother beat her mercilessly and hurled hateful, hurtful words.
She cried, that little girl. Begged for mercy. But the beating was endless, as were the dagger-words.
Tears streaked her face. Knees trembled, threatening to give way to the beating. If not for that old couch, the child surely would have been in a heap on the floor by now. The beating hurt. Oh, it hurt awful.
Her heart hurt more than the lashes. In her little mind, she couldn’t understand what she’d done that was so awful, so terrible, to deserve the beating and berating.
Why can’t I make her happy? The little girl questioned herself about the mother who couldn’t stop. Why did I have to be born into this world, if I make her world such a terrible place with me in it?
That beautiful blue-eyed babe, whose life so young and full of life, dreaded living already at that early age. Those eyes had seen pain, that body had known pain, that mind had known more fear than any child should know.
And. It. Hurt.
The hitting hurt. The words hurt. But more than anything, she just wished she could be good enough for her mother to love her back. To be pleasing enough to put a smile on her mother’s face. To do enough to just not make her mad anymore.
Sweet girl couldn’t see. She was too young. Too innocent. Too loving.
Sometimes the only thing one’s life has to offer is hurt and pain and mistakes and failure. But that failure does not have to link from one generation to the next.
So that little girl made up her mind one day (finally) to forgive. Release the hurt and move forward. To be the link in the chain that would break free from the hurt and pain and anger and unhealthiness.
Because being free is better than living in fear.
If the Son therefore shall make you free, ye shall be free indeed. ~John 8:36