We All Have A Choice
There were years where if given the opportunity to choke out my Dad, I would have and I don’t think a single soul would have blamed me. I lost my childhood and pure innocence to this man. He left me reeling for years with shame, identity theft, and the feeling of filth regardless of how many times I showered I couldn’t get clean. I battled fears in motherhood that no mother would understand unless they experienced this type of trauma. I scrutinized and choked up with panic attacks that took my breath away during the most innocent moments with my husband and children that should have been priceless memories. I questioned people’s true love for me and never felt worthy enough. I screamed at God, “How can you say you love me and care about me and allow this to happen to me? Why God? Why Me? Why did you allow this?” Weeping in between every gasp of air, rocking back and forth in a fetal position praying, praying, praying the pain would stop.
For years I believed it would stop when he took his last breath. So many times he should have died and miraculously made it through. Why God? This man has destroyed countless lives and lived solely for the purpose of serving himself.
I battled this for years with God and with each step of healing He adjusted my eyes to see the way He sees. I would have never imagined being the one at my Dad’s deathbed in a single room, with a single-window, alone for weeks and with not a loved one in sight and tasked with preparing him for death and being the last face he would see this side of heaven. But that wasn’t the only reason I was there.
I was there to choke out the devil. The devil robbed me of my childhood. The devil robbed my Dad of his childhood. The devil had taken his tole on generations before me and at that moment I had to decide if He was going to rob us of one more day. For years I identified myself by what he did to me. At this moment was I going to be that girl? The victim of the devil one more time, with the lingering emotions of my Dad dying with never getting a chance to say goodbye? Was I not going to take the opportunity to tell him I was sorry for what happened to him as a kid. Sorry, he wasn’t loved as he should have been loved and cared for. Tell him that I forgave him? This didn’t mean that I excused what my Dad did to me! He chose pure evil all on his own! He could have made so many different choices, but he never did!
What it did mean was in that moment, I was taking my power back! I wasn't that little girl curled up on the bathroom floor. Who I am is love. I am not weak. I am not a victim. I am not without power and strength. My Dad had all the power and strength when I was a child. What stood before him now was a Christ Warrior. An overcomer, a victorious child of God that would say, “NOT TODAY DEVIL!”
I brushed my Dad’s hair back from his face and began to sing Lauren Daigle’s song, “Rescue” to him as he opened his eyes and smiled at me. Tears filled his eyes. He knew he wasn’t alone, he knew it was his little girl standing before him as a mighty warrior, absolutely unafraid of him anymore.
I came into that room covered with the Holy Spirit and beaming with Jesus’s love and compassion. I held my Dad’s hand and prayed over him. I reminded him that he was forgiven by me and deeply loved by God. That God wanted his heart. That he was about to meet Jesus. I told him that the devil had robbed me of having him as the Dad I deserved, but I wasn’t going to allow him to rob me of these last moments with him. I was going to have these last moments with my Dad on my terms. I wouldn’t let him die alone. His life mattered to God and therefore his life mattered to me.
The police officer opened the door and said my 10 minutes was up. I looked at my Dad one last time, not knowing if I would ever see him again, but knew that on his last day, the devil didn’t win and I walked out VICTORIOUS & SET FREE!
We all have choices in life.