Another desperate day dawned. This was one of her “bad” days, a day she would have normally spent in bed, reserving her strength. But she had heard that a Healer was coming through her town. She gathered her resolve while she redressed her bloody wound. Maybe today he would heal her, as he had healed others. Maybe this would be the last day she would feel desperate.
I came to the counselor’s office
broke. They gave me a student rate,
equal to our weekly grocery budget,
but I deemed it necessary
as food. When they asked
what prompted my visit,
I said I was a newlywed.
I followed God’s call to the mountain
and here I sit praising him
on a Sunday afternoon.
Forgiveness has been a long, necessary task, and it’s been essential in my healing as a child of divorce.
Most of my posts talk about the hurt I’ve endured and the healing I’ve experienced, but not much about forgiveness. The act of forgiveness has been an integral part of my healing process.
Though I struggled with depression during several seasons, I have only sunk to suicidal lows once, as a sixteen-year old girl in the autumn of 1993. At that time I was totally overwhelmed, feeling unloved and isolated.