Be kind to one another, tender-hearted,
Forgiving each other, just as God in Christ also has forgiven you.
Ephesians 4:32 NASB

The weekend before my father’s open heart surgery, my husband and I traveled to Virginia. Saturday evening after dinner, my Father and I spoke alone, and as he flipped through a small book, he said, “Martha, the women you minister with may find this book on anger, bitterness, and forgiveness useful. I’d like to give it to you.” And I didn’t miss a beat as I grinned and replied, “Well, maybe I should read it first, and see if it helps me.”

Startled, my father hesitated, and then his eyes twinkled with amusement, and I’m certain they mirrored mine. He chuckled as if his true intentions had just been exposed.  I’d written my father the previous year on his birthday, and I’d told him that I’d forgiven him my past hurts, but I still had a long list of other people to work through. And I hadn’t felt at peace with him yet. However, in that moment, the wall between us crumbled, and my stone-cold heart softened. Since my father has now passed, I treasure this memory.

My husband couldn’t accompany me the weekend my father died, but my children traveled with me to their grandfather’s bedside. We joined my brothers, sister-in-law, and mother, and we held each other and wept, told stories, laughed, and helped each other to blow our noses as we maneuvered around protective hospital gowns and gloves. It was a beautiful mess. I had a few sacred minutes to sing to my father alone, and when the final grandson arrived, and life-support was removed, we sang “Happy Birthday.” The following day, my father would have celebrated his 82nd birthday.

The last half hour of my father’s life, we sang his favorite hymns. We ended with “When Peace Like a River”, and our voices slowed to a whisper as my father took his last breath to the lyrics “It is well with my soul.” He was finally home and set free of earth’s burdens.

God can also heal our generational hurt.

Our extended family was broken and torn asunder from sin, loss, and failure, and our wounds left their scars. Then again, in most families you can find the orphan, rebel, wanderer, outcast, harlot, traitor, scoundrel, and even the self-righteous proud one. But God sacrificed His only son to die so that we may all be free. Jesus came for the lost and injured; He looked the shamed one in the eye, and He ate with another on the edge of the margins. He still longs for intimacy; and so, He reveals Himself to us in the midst of our angst, and He weaves a tangle of pain and beauty as He draws us toward Him.

Our stories matter.

My father understood the power of our testimonies and the hope of redemption that they offer. We are called to demonstrate Jesus’ love and grace, mercy and forgiveness, and kindness and compassion. Ordinary work, play, song, dance, ministry, and worship are possible when we fix our eyes on Him. But forgiveness is a lifelong process for some.

My father became my dad when I watched him grandparent. He was patient when he taught my children to hook the worms on their bamboo lines, and he removed their fish. He hunted with them and also cheered them on at games. I believe that he has finally learned to waltz with my granddaughter, Reese Amelia, on streets of gold. We will clink and clank out a melody on our cereal bowls from this side of heaven, and smile at his sweet memory. And Dad, your knees no longer have to be covered for our family photos! We love and miss you already.

I don’t know what sorrow you’ve endured. It’s easy for regret, anger, and bitterness to steal your joy. Likewise, shame and doubt and fear can hinder God’s purpose for you. Seeds can’t grow in hard ground; so, I encourage you to plow the soil and sift through your dirt. Choose to forgive. Close the gap. And love. For love covers a multitude of sin.

My final words are to my mother. You are a resilient and generous and courageous woman. Your love for Jesus and unconditional love for your family has been evident through every storm and season of life. You’ve held us together with love and laughter. And so, I want to remind you that you are not alone. Though we live at a distance, your entire family supports you and the community encircles you. We love you, mom.

God called me to return home to Honeysuckle Road, and pain and beauty intertwined. However, forgiveness and reconciliation also became possible. And it is just the start. God is gracious to complete what He has begun. And what a sweet fragrance He leaves!

It is well with my soul,

Lily Mae

Then Peter came and said to Him, “Lord, how often shall my brother sin against me and I forgive him? Up to seven times?” Jesus said to him, “I do not say to you, up to seven times, but up to seventy times seven.” Matthew 18: 21, 22 NASB