.Amani

.Amani
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Sunday, January 22, 2012
My father IMed me the other morning. It caught me by surprise and it kind of left me in a sour mood for the rest of the day. Along with unnecessary drama bullcrap between real life friends, I eventually fell off the consecration as far as prayer. Still fasting though, but now I need to catch up with bible study and prayer.



"Amber,
I know you hate me, but I love you... And I miss you. I hope life is good to you.
Love Dad."


It's weird how life choices end up effecting you down the line. When I stopped talking to him, it was all my decision after a huge exchange of messages where he insulted me and my mother, and made threats over something as stupid as my choice to not follow his faith. I was 16 back then, and I obviously knew what I was and wasn't interested in at that point, but he tried to shove it down my throat and I cut him off for it.

Back then I didn't care. It was a liberating feeling, to have the last say when it came to my freedom, especially against him, considering his past acts of abuse and misogyny towards my mother and my stepmother. I disliked him so much that I thought I hated him.

But having matured after all this time, even though I'm only a few days off from 22, I see what people meant when they said 'hate' was a strong word. A lot of the time I thought about what 'Love' was, and eventually came to the conclusion that love is a universal thing-- and that there are pure forms of love, and there are tainted. Every so often when I get an e-mail or something from him going "I love you and I miss you", I can't say 'he doesn't love me', or 'he doesn't know what love really is' because of what he's done to me and others in the past and present. I just feel that he doesn't know how to love in the right way, that whatever is wrong with him in his heart and spirit makes him act the way he does, thinking it's right.

It's just ironic. Back then, never did I think that I would willingly go back to the Christian faith (albeit it's much different now-- raised as a Jehovah's Witness/agnostic and now I'm Apostolic Pentecostal). Like, seriously delve into it and eventually get the Holy Ghost and be where I am now spiritually. I also used imagined that the pain from the trauma would eventually die, that any feeling that I had for him would just die, that I'd be perfectly fine within a few years.

Instead now I think about him, pray for him, and think negative thoughts like "how would I feel if he passed before we ever reconciled?", and if there was ever a time we'd meet face to face, would it actually be peaceful? Would he be grateful that I'd given him another chance? Or would he try to criticize my life decisions instead, and once again try to push "his" version of the Truth on me? Despite all this time, I know he's still the same-- when my mom joined Facebook he was quick to message her and harass her. My sister tells me things about the household. To top it off, I see him interact with relatives the same way, religious fanaticism and all. Whenever I see it, I wonder if I can ever have the peace I desire, but I know God has His ways.


Once the consecration is over, the church will immediately be getting into it's women's conference weekend. I've been assigned to do a skit with other sisters the first Friday of February on things that would keep people from coming to God. I keep thinking of my own personal experience with the family drama and how it kept me from where I needed to be... I know it would be a powerful testimony but it's still a wound that hasn't quite healed.

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