Sandpaper Coated Blessings

I stood there for what felt like hours as she berated my father in every imaginable way. She even went so far as to attempt to convince me not to call my dad, Dad. Normally, when she would go off on me like this, I would crawl into an emotional vault so thick, Fort Knox would look like a popular tourist spot in comparison. This time was different. I had a feeling come over me I had only felt once before, distilling a boldness I am still trying to fully bring into my life. I remember standing there in awe at the building passion I felt behind each word as I heard myself tell her, “Look Grandma, God said thou shalt honor thy father and thy mother. He did not say, thou shalt honor thy father and thy mother, unless thy grandma has a problem with him, so until God gives you an exception, BACK OFF!” The fury behind those last two words still shocks me to this day. Perhaps the most surprising part of my experience came as I found my witch of a grandma listening to me for a few minutes. For the first time in my life, I was able to explain something to my grandma and that was the last time I had to listen to her attack my dad.

??????????? As wonderful as it felt telling off the witch who wanted me to hate my dad, it wasn’t me, it couldn’t have been. The real me, the one I knew at the time, came out in all its pathetic majesty several years later as I talked with a faceless name over the phone at one of the places where I worked. I don’t remember what her problem was, what she said, or even how she said it. All I remember is feeling pure terror creep over my body with every word she vehemently spewed out of the filth ridden hole she called a mouth. If she were a demon standing over me in all its nightmarish horror, ready to rip out my soul and drag me off to an endless torment, I would not have felt any more terrified. I remember feeling my muscles tighten so much they pulled ribs out of place on my back. The pain was only dulled by the terror I felt from the anger behind her voice ripping into a long-forgotten part of my heart. The fear crippling me in that moment was not caused by her. She simply provided a gate for the monster in my heart to terrorize me.

??????????? I hate fear! I hate it with a passion! I will not be a slave to that abominable fiend! I spent my whole childhood paralyzed by its commands. I let it get so great a hold over my heart, were it not for a dog who showed up to let me know I was loved, I would have taken my own life. So, after my encounter with the lady over the phone, I sought for opportunities to face that repulsive beast. I even took a job that involved being yelled at by upset customers all day. There were many nights I would go home with pain shooting up my back and down my arm from a nerve pinched by the ribs pulled out of place that day. I remember one night, the terror clenching my heart was so great, I might have had an easier time throwing the moon at Jupiter, than to face that fowl beast. Still, I found the strength to ask my wife to take me to the temple, so I could feel the hope of God shining as a perfect light, breathing peace again to my petrified heart. For years I tried everything I could to kill that beast. I spent hours every night pouring my heart and soul into the pages of a journal, pondering about what kind of monster I was facing, where it came from, and how I could defeat it. On more than one occasion, I remember someone telling me I should learn to live with it and that I would never defeat the demon hiding in my heart. Every one of those voices became an embodiment of the beast I was going to slay.

??????????? It was the pondering on the words of an institute teacher that helped me find the way to victory. He pointed out, God sent us here to be given the opportunity to fail. If we failed in Heaven, we would have been cast out with Satan, so God sent us here, so we could fail and try again. Another piece of the puzzle came as I realized Matthew 7:1-5 does not simply caution against judging others, it tells us not to judge, period. Then, when I realized the seed for the demon I faced was in part, planted when my grandma was about five years old, I learned why God does not want us to judge anyone, even ourselves. If a tragedy that happened when my grandma was five could cause a chain of events that would affect me like it did, I would be stupid and prideful to cast judgement on anyone, even myself. ?

It took a few years of pondering and more than a million words poured into a journal before those lessons fully found their way into my heart. Along the way, after learning a bit more about her struggles, I learned to feel sorry for my late grandma. I was also blessed to see my struggles were gifts from a loving God who wanted to help me grow. My struggles even blessed the lives of others. I was told by five people, they did not commit suicide because I was there to relate to them when no one else could. Then, as though to add a little icing to the already wonderful cake, as I was taking calls in another place I worked, I found my monster dead. I had found yet another person so calloused to the feelings of others, she was willing to berate me for essentially nothing. As her faceless voice yelled at me over the phone, I knew this was a moment where my hidden monster would normally come out in all its terrible majesty, leaving me half crippled in pain for the next few weeks, but there was nothing. There was not a single sign of my old foe at all. Not wanting to take a chance I looked, trying to find him and see if he were just waiting for the opportune moment to strike, but there was nothing. He was gone! He was completely gone! So, I thanked the faceless voice who was spending her day yelling at me over something she messed up, and just cried.