Soul Sistas – Her Story

image Hey beautiful,

My gorgeous friend who is such an amazing writer has kindly agreed (no arm twisting I promise!) to share her journey on forgiveness in her own words.  This piece is writing is not only beautiful, it’s deep, meaningful and full of Gods grace and love.  It’s a journey of trust, faith and obedience to His promises.  Coming you you in three parts….. Here’s part one enjoy L x ……

When I was a little girl, I vividly remember my fisherman father, hunched over a fishing line, with toughened working hands straining against the nylon. While he pulled and sweated over the heaviness of the catch, he would be narrowing his brilliant blue eyes in his weather beaten and leathery tanned faced, which he had turned to the horizon.
“Storm is brewing.” He would mutter, wiping his fishy hands on his stained overalls after he had piled the heavy fishing line into a case beside his boots.
I would squint my green eyes and mimmick the old sea dog posture, blonde curls fluttering around my cheerful face, looking out to the horizon which bobbed up and down to the gentle slapping of waves against the fishing boat hull.
But no matter how hard I would squint my eyes and hunch my shoulders, no matter how many times I would wipe my fishy hands and strain over the heavy fishing lines, I could not see the storm brewing.
All I could see was the vibrant blue sky and fluffy white clouds flitting across the skies like frolicking new born lambs.
The breathtaking natural beauty of the open ocean all around me blinded me to the obvious storm brewing and as I headed through the journey of life, through the many trials and storms, I continued to struggle to see those storm clouds brewing on the horizon.
Despite the weather warnings issued by the loved ones around me. Despite the gnawing gut instinct that there were storm clouds brewing.

My baby walk with Jesus strengthened through the years since I was that little girl; that blonde curly headed, cheeky fisherman‘s daughter. Looking back now, He was there with me through each storm. Those storms I faced time and time again under those protective wings of our Lord. The storms lashed and crashed furiously one after another but through each battle, two things remained strong and seemingly unchallenged…
My growing faith in my Saviour and my marriage.

Forgiveness was and is, a sweet word which I grew up with on my baby walk in Christ. It rolled off my tongue easily as I forgave those around me who hurt me, who offended me, from my past and my present. I forgave those as my Father who has forgiven me, through his Son dying on the cross. The building blocks of the Christian faith.

But had I … really?

Pride does indeed come before the fall ….

I was naively fearless when it came to my marriage. Strong. Concrete foundations built on our faith.
After all, wasn’t it a God inspired marriage? He had brought us together. My husband had been praying for his future wife. And God brought us together when we were both ready.
The whirlwind engagement.
The growing mature love that multiplied our family to our brimming quiver full.
We faced each of the storms that followed … side by side. Always together. Year after year, we were tossed around on the stormy seas. Always together.

But the enemy is sneaky. Like a prowling lion, he skirted around the safe haven of our home. Roaring. Waiting to devour. Waiting for his chance to dart in and attack. The storm clouds were brewing. Black and threatening. They were building fast.
But like that little fisherman’s daughter, I could only see the fluttering white clouds on a beautiful blue back drop.
Hearts began to harden and little by little, unforgiveness began to set in. Harsh words in anger. Poison dripping from tongues. Resentment. Bitterness. Pride. Little by little. The enemy kept firing those little darts. Until the full brunt of the tidal wave of betrayal and deception smashed into our home.
Our home, our safe haven from the dark crazy world.

I remember the day that the deep blackness over took our family like it was only an hour ago. Five little blonde heads around the dinner table. Chattering and laughing like any normal meal time. It was cheerfully noisy. The food was plentiful and the crazy loving commotion even more so. Looking at the clock on the wall. Excitement that Daddy would be home any minute.

The knock on the front door echoed through the dining room. Echoed through my nightmares over the months to come. Echoed through my torn to shreds soul. The hollow sound of the devil knocking.

The tidal wave of betrayal and deception smashed through the house and battered the five little blonde heads like rag dolls. The children’s dinner had stained my apron and it fluttered to the ground in horror. My broken heart shattered like a stained glass window. The hollow sound of the devil knocking.

until part two….. Thank you my darling friend for sharing your heart x love you x

 

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