Surrender

It’s been a battle recently. The inner conversations have been fierce.

“Send them the memoir. If they only knew what I know. That would change everything.”

“No, that’s a bad idea. I’m just going to stir up the hornet’s nest. Making them mad isn’t going to accomplish anything.”

“But maybe one of my brother’s kids will believe my son’s testimony. Maybe one of them will even take a DNA test to prove my brother is actually my half-brother.”

“Nobody in my biological family is going to believe me. It doesn’t matter what evidence I have. Tarnishing another person’s reputation will only make me look bad, even if I’m right.”

“Time is running out. I really should try to reach out to my parents again.”

“I reached out several months ago. There’s no relationship there. They’ll just ignore my questions and points and will keep sending me lifeless emails on holidays and birthdays. What’s the point?”

I’m not one to give up. I’m persistent. If there’s a solution, I’ll find it. But at times, there’s no fix. Sometimes, almost every choice is the wrong one. Sometimes, surrender is the safest option. Sometimes, dreaming of a better world is more painful than giving up. I know God can do anything, but I’m not sure that He is “capable” of changing the human will. Sometimes, it’s more painful to pray for change than it is to accept the new normal. Any good Christian would urge me to hold on because it will all work out. It’ll all make sense someday. That’s a nice thought, but sometimes families just fall apart. God doesn’t like conflict, but it doesn’t change the fact that divisions happen and in many families, there is no feasible road towards “reconciliation” - especially when a child has been hurt. I hope it will all make sense someday, but contrary to popular belief, there is no scripture promising such a thing. Yet I do believe God sees everything and despite human free will, He is somehow in complete control.

I know I’m getting stronger because it’s easier to counter the voices. But it’s a daily struggle. Discernment is a fine art. My longing for connection shouldn’t be confused by a true Holy Spirit nudge. Of course, I want to be heard, especially after being silenced much of my life. Of course, I want to feel accepted by my biological family. I know I should forgive and I have time and time again. Yet some days, I want justice, but sadly, evil often wins. At least in this life.

Last week, on cue, my mom sent me a standard holiday greeting email and my son replied with a pretty harsh recorded message telling my parents what he really thought, swear words and all. This was the first time he chose to verbally stand up to them. It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t Christian. But it was a child facing his perpetrator. I’m not sure if this is progress. In any case, it gives me hope that my son is also getting stronger.

I used to think strength and persistence were synonymous. Yet I now understand that restraint is sometimes the bravest and wisest path.