How To Give? The (un)Forgiven

Some memories laid dormant from a childhood shattered in violence and for years I fed off the bad and fueled them through my teenage days. But 18 came with it's unannounced year of good memories finding their way back and all my energy for harboring pain of a childhood torn by family violence stopped cold in it's track. All the pieces together a puzzle came whole and no longer just the pieces shaded dark. And I thought I'd learned it well this forgiving for a new wholeness allowed me too.

But my 20's came, I was a mess and didn't want to give this kind of giving and all that's fair or just railed against the injustice. Somehow my thanks was tangled down deep and I didn't know why I had to travel it this way. I took baby steps in a charade long before I felt them by heart.

Somehow I stumbled head-long into this weed again which hid in the garden of my heart. Large towering tree-like blooms a source of shade and I never saw it until He walked the soil of it with me. The tangled root bound underneath and how was I to live without it? All my thanks entwined with a root this weed I'd grown to like.

How did I circle my way back?

My thoughts no longer fixated on a biological father of remembered good along with pain. I had fled that grip to only slip into another. A crumpled marriage, a daughter, and right there in her father is where I began a new dig. I'd given darkness a new home by way of weed I nurtured by feeding it justice by all my injustices. For truly I needed this savior because I didn't know another and justice was all I had.

I was tangled with this weed, the bitter root and my loving Gardener called me out. So I began giving even though it felt all wrong and I'd give but then take it back. Persistence continued on because I didn't know how He was pruning it out. My soily soul had grown close with the weed like a familiar friend and I wasn't sure how life lived without.

At first my heart didn't want to submit this type giving but my mouth pushed it out. More than once. It started in bumpy jolts as I spoke them like blessings but then wished them not true. I'd speak of saving graces to only not believe them deserved and then prayed them back. My heart was wedged and my mouth had to clip it out. So I continued to speak, to bless, to pray the graces until my heart slowly followed.

It ended with a long cavity barren of root where my thanks freed it's tangled pull below. Only after that bitter weed tossed aside did I see how it's blooms had shadowed. It took lots of giving in way of forgiving to liberate the whole thing out. And I never saw the roots or how to begin or desired to even try 'til a Gardener showed me how. And in this type soil, raked by forgiveness's toil, is fertile for thanks to grow.

I now stand guard over this heart which leans down in battered waves and digs deep if allowed. Holy Spirit's expert eye counsels me where to search and I continually have to give Him the grounds to walk my heart. And easy is not always the path by which it comes sometimes it's by wrestling and toiling with the soil before I'm ready for His planting. But one of my greatest giving was in forgiving and I hope to always give more.

I shared this at Ann's place click over for more "Walk With Him Wednesday".

Jesus said: "Therefore I say to you, her sins, which are many, are forgiven, for she loved much. But to whom little is forgiven, the same loves little.” Luke 7:47 (NKJ)