Wednesday, February 6, 2008

Today I climbed a mountain...

It might not have looked like Everest, but it sure felt like it...

The first time I went to Disneyworld, it was with my grandma, grandpa my cousins don and tracy, my brother jimmy and me... Oh yeah Aunt Sissy was there too, but only to do the boring stuff like bath us and whatnot. She's only in one picture (and that's only a reflection of her taking a picture) so I don't think it really counted that she was there!! :-) My mom made us these name tag pins with Disney Characters on them in case we got lost, I think... mine had minnie mouse on it (i loved her red shoes). But anyway, I was in awe when I discovered what I consider the best ride of all time: IT'S A SMALL WORLD. I rode it 57 times with my grandpa that day. Everyone else couldn't appreciate it for what it was: a miracle for a little girl who loved dolls and had an innate desire to travel the world. We would get off and get right back in line to do it again. I didn't want to stop! I was so happy!

I have lived on a roller coaster of emotions regarding my parents for 28 years. It felt more like 'The Demon Drop' than 'It's a Small World'. Tonight, the ride came to an end and for the first time ever I did not get back in line. I think I made the decision to get on another ride.

For a long time, probably since she died, I have hungered to know more about my mom. A while back, in a very brief moment of courage, I emailed my mom's brothers and sisters and told them that I wanted to know about my mom. Not the memories I had of her, but the ones that they had. Mom before she was a mom, mom after she couldn't mother anymore, Linda Marie Jones (Potrzuski). They agreed and were happy about it, but I didn't push it and not a whole lot happened. Tonight that changed.

And God's timing is so perfect.

We sat around for about 5 hours talking about my mom, my dad, my life.

What was revealed to me was the truth, that the story will never make sense. How could it, I have never told the story of my childhood and not found the person listening in tears. It's not the worst story, but it is painful...

What was revealed to me is that it doesn't have to make sense. It's okay for life to be messy. To have some memories that are beautiful...like the float that my mom made for my brownie troop's first parade. It was the coolest thing, a camping scene with a tent, campfire and tons of cabbage patch kids in brownie uniforms hand made by my mom! And to have some memories that are ugly... my mom leaving. Life is not easy. Each of those moments has changed me. Each of those moments prepared me.

What became so obvious as I looked at a few pics of me as a baby, pics of my mom and dad as a young couple, a couple in love, is this: that man and that woman are human. They lived, they laughed, they messed up, they are no different than me. They are in desperate need of grace. That amazing grace that says, "You don't deserve my love, my forgiveness, my trust and my time. But I am not concerned with what you deserve, I am in the business of love. I am here, and I love you...just like you are."

God's timing is so perfect....

I came to Michigan not to learn about my mom, but to forgive my dad. And this is how it happened...

By confronting the most ugly part of him: He beat my mother. He beat her in front of their children. He shattered my little girl heart with a violence that I never understood. I couldn't talk about my mom without talking about that. It was ackward at first, but then my uncle, my mom's brother changed everything. All of the hate I have carried around with me for the past 20 years was washed away by this brief conversation:

Me: "What was he like, my dad, what did you think when you met him."
Uncle Tom (Mom's big bro): "You know what Gina, your dad was a good guy. I really liked him. We spent a lot of time together."

WHAT?!?!?!

My Uncle Tom lives in the same neighborhood that I grew up in. At the end of the street that I lived on with my mom and dad. As I left his house, I drove home in sleet and snow and I slowly drove past the place we lived. Our house has been torn down and 2 have been built in its place. Part of me longed to see it so I stopped and closed my eyes. It is there in my heart, when I opened my eyes I was glad it was gone. I think it is time to let those memories stay in my heart. The one place that can handle them. The part of me that has been changed by grace, softened by forgiveness.

Tomorrow I will get back on a plane and head back to California. But first, I get an opportunity to look my dad in the eyes and love him. Tomorrow I get to see my dad for the first time through the lense of understanding, forgiveness and love. I never thought that this would come from a conversation with my mom's brother and sister. How special that the healing happened less than a block away from the place the wound occured. In between that block was a really big mountain. Tonight I climbed it! Tonight all of you who have been praying stood in front of me, next to me and behind me. Pushing me, pulling me and cheering me on. Thank you.

I thank you all for your prayers... please keep praying. Tomorrow is important. I want to leave this place in the way God would have me leave. I want to walk in victory... His victory. Isn't it funny the way He works? He gives us just what we need, not a minute too soon!

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