The Divorce

God's been working in my heart to share my story. I've finally been able to forgive my dad, but I haven't forgotten. Most of you don't know the whole story, but I'm ready to share it.

Summer 2011. My freshman year was finally completed and I had made Dean's honor roll. I was so proud of myself. I was so happy to see my mom and my brother pull up to the dorm and help me move out. I asked how everyone had been. My mom told me in the car on the way back to Springdale that my dad was sick. He was admitted into a mental hospital for being severely depressed. I was shocked, but I knew that he could use the help. He had been distant, tired, and moody for quite some time, years even. I prayed for him earnestly many, many times.

After a few days of being home in Springdale, I left for Camp War Eagle. I was so excited to finally be on staff. I knew that my mom and brother would be okay. I told only a few close friends to be praying for my family. I was hopeful that someday soon my family would be happy and whole again like it was when I was little.

On my first weekend off from Camp, my mom told me that she picked up my dad from the hospital to get some clothes and things. They visited for a little while at home, then she dropped him back off at the front of the hospital. I wasn't able to make it; I hadn't seen my dad since April 8, 2011. I prayed for him a lot and hoped that my family would be back together again soon. I called my mom every few days to catch up and see how they were doing. She was hurting, I know.

On my next weekend off from Camp, my mom and brother came to pick me up. We were catching up on things like normal; Then Tyler's phone rang, and I heard him say, "I haven't told her yet." Of course I freaked out and asked what was going on. My mom said that my dad had been lying. My mom called the hospital to see how my dad was and when he would be back. They had no record of him ever being a patient. He has never been admitted to that hospital. He LIED. My dad was a coward and made up a fake story to get out of being a husband and a father. I was angry. Furious. My dad had left. He was gone. There was nothing I could do to make him stay. I guess I was never good enough. He didn't love me enough to stay. HE DIDN'T LOVE ME. 

My prayers turned from, "help my dad get better," to, "I hope my dad gets hit by a car, and I hope he knows that he just ruined my life." I realized that my dad was a lousy man who abandoned his 20 year old son, 19 year old daughter, and faithful wife of 20 something years. I didn't really spend time with God. I was mad and he knew it. I spent most nights crying myself to sleep, hating every part of myself that looked like him, and cursing the God of the universe. I was HURT. And I was mad.

My weeks at camp were spent being lonely, shutting of the world, and any feeling that wasn't resentment. On weekends off, I didn't get to hang out with friends or go to the movies. I spent it helping pay for rent, gas, food, and other bills. I was doing the things that my dad should be doing. I was the only one working now. I helped provide for my family at 19 years old. My dad never called or sent a text. I sent him hate e-emails every chance I got, even worse on holidays. I smashed most things he gave me, christmas ornaments, burned clothes. You name it. My dad never tried to expalin himself or show his love to his hurting kids. 

Divorce court was hard. He never looked our way. Tyler was brave enough to talk to him, I didn't give him the time of day. I really just wanted to hurt him. I gave him the silent treatment just like he gave me. My parents were now a stastic. They were divorced. I understood that my family was broken long before the divorce, but now it was official. 

My dream of going to Central Baptist College was lost. It was just a dream. My dad lied on his taxes preventing me from getting financial aid. I was uneducated and, in my eyes, a failure. I had always been smart. I knew I could be successful, but I wasn't. Everyone was in college and I was working full time. I hated real life. I wanted to be getting up early to take tests, but instead I was getting up early and working late. I spent my time with the senile and the dying. 

I hated God for tearing my family apart. I thought I desreved every bad thing that happened in my life because my dad didn't think I was worth loving. Every man will always fail you and leave because that's what they do. They'll do anything to get what they want. And then I realized: My dad doesn't care about me. He doesn't hurt like I do. He could care less about me. He's happy. I'm only hurting myself with all this bitterness. I can't control what HE did, but I can control how I RESPOND. I recognized that God never left. I blocked him out. He heard all my prayers, even the ones asking for my dad to suffer, to die, to get hit by a car. He heard them (and to my knowledge, ignored them) but more importantly he heard the cry of my severly broken heart. He knew I wanted to be loved, and he loved me. I learned that God is my father. He won't fail me or leave me. In God's eyes, I was beautiful, smart, and more valuable than any college education. 

God doesn't choose the ones who have it all together to be his disciple, he chooses the messy ones to prove that he is real. He changes lives. He turned my mess into a testimony to proclaim the name of Jesus. I realized that I never deserved God's love, but Jesus made a way for the unworthy a long time ago on the cross. I am a survivor. I know God has a plan for me. And I know that my strength alone won't get me anywhere, but God's strength will.