I needed him. Tears welled up in my eyes and all I could feel was pain inside. Was I not good enough? Was I not worth the sacrifice? Was I not worth his love? So many questions ran through my mind. Not just for a moment, but for days, months, and years I contemplated. This pain is a deep pain. A pain that only a select few know. An emptiness that led to my broken depiction of love and endless cycles. To live my whole life feeling like a piece of me was missing and come to the reality that it was because he left me. Willingly. No one put a gun to his head and forced him to walk away. He made the choice all on his own. Instead of choosing his daughter, he chose himself. Instead of choosing us, he chose his wealth and I was left to pick up the pieces.
No one can truly understand the depths of parental rejection and abandonment unless you’ve experienced it. The worst part about it is that I never lost hope. I waited. I waited for his return. Memories flooded my mind as I thought back to the day that I expected a random man to be my father. Peeking through the window, I watched him walk up to my home, and anticipation built up inside of me. In my heart, I hoped that after 13 years he'd finally made the choice to come after me...to choose me...but that wasn’t the case. Broken anticipation almost ruined me. Sadness consumed my thoughts when I finally lost hope and realized that he wasn’t coming back for me. It was tragic to think about the hand I was dealt. His absence caused a wound that never seemed to heal. A scar that never seemed to fade, but became bigger as the days passed away. Externally, I looked whole, but I was nothing but fragmented pieces on the inside, and I couldn't seem to put the pieces back together no matter how hard I tried.
Suddenly, there was a knock at my door. Faint, but I could hear it. The Lord spoke to me and told me to go to a friend's church. I had never been before, but I obeyed. When I arrived the worship team was ministering and I could feel the Holy Spirit like never before. It was pricking my soul, ministering to my broken heart. The pastor walked on stage and began to speak. He told the congregation that he couldn’t break the worship because someone needed it. He said someone was dealing with the rejection of their father. It was so specific. Broken and battered on the inside but no one could see until finally, the Lord sent me to his church to receive healing. Overwhelming emotions began to build up and tears streamed down my face because finally someone could see Rozahnea. Not just when I was standing alone, but in a room full of people, the Lord saw broken ole me. The Lord came back for me. For his word says,
“...The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit: a broken and a contrite heart, O God, thou wilt not despise. Psalms 51:17
The Lord chose me. He heard my cry. All those sleepless nights waiting for someone to rescue me. My silence became a cry for help, but no matter how hard I screamed, I was invisible to the world around me. I eventually became numb to my own pain. My broken relationships were just a testament to how bruised I was on the inside. I’d dated a few men and though they were not perfect as neither was I, they all gifted me with the love they had inside; yet in each relationship, something seemed to be missing. Not necessarily with them, but in me.
One night the Lord spoke to me. He said, “Add me to the equation.” He showed me my patterns, revealing one toxic trait after another. I wasn’t ready for a relationship. I wasn’t ready to be a wife. Not just a wife to my earthly husband, but I wasn’t ready to be a wife to my heavenly father. I didn’t understand his love, and why he’d sacrifice himself for a wretch like me. Due to the hurt of my past, my heart had become calloused and I couldn’t see clearly. This led to me serving up the very dish that initially poisoned me. Hurt. In fact, I became quite good at it...
Oftentimes I hear people say that they were heartbroken by a lover, but I was the heartbreaker in my relationships. Selfish, consumed with what I thought was best. Demanding, because I wanted my own way. Insecure, because my father had never chosen me. Record keeper, because it was everyone else's fault but my own that I didn’t know how to receive love. Prideful, because I didn't know love, yet love sought to know me. God opened my eyes to see that all of these characteristics were the complete opposite of this true love. The opposite of God. Who he was. Who he is.
Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud or rude. It does not demand its own way. It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged. It does not rejoice about injustice but rejoices whenever the truth wins out. Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance. 1 Corinthians 13:4-7 NLT
I never understood the depths of a solid foundation and how one is built until I saw the brokenness of my own and how it stemmed from my relationship with my father figures. It all started at the head. My relationship with my earthly father impacted the way I saw my heavenly father. Due to his absence, I assumed God didn’t love me and he’d never choose me. I assumed that no else could love me, yet love finally found me. Despite the lies of the enemy, God loves me. Sometimes we don’t realize how deep our wounds are. We don’t understand the detrimental effects of our childhood trauma, especially when we become numb to it and forget what it’s like to be whole. We let the days pass and neglect our past because we are afraid to see our own pain. We don’t understand how it can break us and those connected to us. Yet, the word says, “The thief cometh not, but for to steal, and to kill, and to destroy: I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly.” John 10:10
The Lord comes to give life. Throughout my trials, I never realized that my pain had turned me into someone else. I became comfortable in that broken place and started to believe the lies of the enemy, BUT LOVE said not so.
So here I am now. A woman walking in her truth. A woman walking in my father's truth.
Yet, this is just a piece of me. There is so much more to the story. I’m not just blogging to speak my truth, but to shed light on God’s truth and how IT SAVES. (John 14:6). I’m blogging to encourage you to find yours as well. Throughout this journey, I’m realizing God is the author and finisher of each and every one of our stories. It’s just our choice on whether or not we'll allow him to complete his perfect masterpiece.
I waited patiently for the Lord to help me, and he turned to me and heard my cry. He lifted me out of the pit of despair, out of the mud and the mire. He set my feet on solid ground and steadied me as I walked along. He has given me a new song to sing, a hymn of praise to our God. Many will see what he has done and be amazed. They will put their trust in the Lord. Psalm 40:1-3 NLT