The Girl at the Window, Smith, T.L. [lightweight ebook reader TXT] 📗

at the point where I was trying to let his absenteeism go, I opened myself up to establishing a relationship with him. This was my opportunity to understand the portion of my being that my maternal side couldn’t explain. This was my opportunity to finally fill the void that had remained empty for so long, despite the love I was surrounded by growing up.

Now, at twenty-three years old, I felt deceived. I felt betrayed for a few measly dollars. What do you do when the very person you expect to protect you does the opposite? Why didn’t the relationship that I longed for not mean as much to him as it did for me?

I was livid because it felt like he was trying to terminate our relationship in its infancy. For so long I held resentment in my heart toward my biological father because I felt that he used my openness to manipulate me for his own selfish gain.

Hear my heart. The purpose of this account is not to accuse but to reflect.  In the broad scheme of things, this betrayal could be considered mild in comparison to some of the things that other little girls have experienced at the hands of their fathers.  The point is, I know there are many people who can identify with this type of pain.

I was a new believer when the offense happened. I understood that I was to take the hurt and anger I felt to Abba, lay it on the altar and leave it there. That’s not quite how it happened. I am the type of person who nurses wounds. I have to talk about it. I have to constantly think about it. I have to ask myself what I did to deserve such treatment.

I would internalize offenses. Rehearsing offenses only allows the roots of bitterness and unforgiveness to grow deeper. Rehearsing offenses allows the enemy to knit new offenses to all of the old ones so that the offended can accuse, try and render the offender guilty over and over again. Although I was in my twenties, I became that little girl sitting at the window again, wondering if I would ever be somebody’s priority.

As hard as I worked to purge my soul of this bitterness, remnants of this poison would still rise to the surface. I am forty-four years old at the time of this publication and, until I had to watch my own children struggle with these same feelings toward their father, I didn’t realize that I was simply perpetuating a cycle.

This bile bubbled up when my dad was in the hospital and I got a frantic call from my aunt to make a life or death decision regarding his health. It bubbled up when I contemplated what would happen if one of his children had to take on the role of caregiver. I choked on resentment when I thought about how this mover and shaker couldn’t spare the time to take an active role in his children’s lives when he was younger, but could one day be at the mercy of those same children as he aged and struggled with his health.

My religious self would justify this anger with the adage, “You reap what you sow.” I rationalized this bitterness by saying he was simply reaping the reward for his absenteeism and selfishness.  God challenged my mindset in early January 2018.

My pastor was conducting a lesson entitled Closing the Door to The Enemy. Embedded in that lesson was a scripture I had read dozens of times, but was suddenly accosted by one word.

The Parable of the Unforgiving Servant Matthew 18:21-35, NKJV

Then Peter came to Him and said, “Lord, how often shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? Up to seven times?”

Jesus said to him, “I do not say to you, up to seven times, but up to seventy times seven. Therefore the kingdom of heaven is like a certain king who wanted to settle accounts with his servants.  And when he had begun to settle accounts, one was brought to him who owed him ten thousand talents. 

But as he was not able to pay, his master commanded that he be sold, with his wife and children and all that he had, and that payment be made.

The servant therefore fell down before him, saying, ‘Master, have patience with me, and I will pay you all.’ Then the master of that servant was moved with COMPASSION, released him, and forgave him the debt.

“But that servant went out and found one of his fellow servants who owed him a hundred denarii; and he laid hands on him and took him by the throat, saying, ‘Pay me what you owe!’

 So his fellow servant fell down at his feet and begged him, saying, ‘Have patience with me, and I will pay you all.’ And he would not, but went and threw him into prison till he should pay the debt. 

So when his fellow servants saw what had been done, they were very grieved, and came and told their master all that had been done. Then his master, after he had called him, said to him, ‘You wicked servant! I forgave you all that debt because you begged me. Should you not also have had compassion on your fellow servant, just as I had pity on you?’ And his master was angry, and delivered him to the torturers until he should pay all that was due to him. “So My heavenly Father also will do to you if each of you, from his heart, does not forgive his brother his trespasses.”

 When did the word compassion get in there? Compassion is defined as sympathetic consciousness of others’ distress together with a desire to alleviate it.[1]

As a 7th grade English teacher, I am required to teach point of view, which is the perspective from