Tender hearts

When I started blogging 3 years ago, I didn’t know what direction I wanted to go in. All I knew was that I had a lot to say. I had left an tough, emotionally draining environment that was riddled with alcoholism and volatility.

I didn’t know much about God either. Honestly, I didn’t think God was capable of much. I didn’t think he could heal my family, let alone my stepfather.

Bottom line: I didn’t think much of God.

But I was obedient in spite of my doubts. I chose to walk away from my family and follow Christ. And it has been an exhausting three years. It’s been gut-wrenching, walking through counseling and mentors, battling demons I didn’t even know I had.

It got ugly but I began to see more of who God is and what He does. I saw the way that He destroys things in order to restore them to what they were meant to be.

A few weeks ago, I agreed to go see my family for a few days. There had been so much brokenness in the last 3 years that I wasn’t sure what I would see when I got there.

My stepdad was sober. He had been since I left. I saw someone who God pursued, someone who made choices to take care of himself. I saw a man who reminded me to trust God when all I felt was fear.

It was redemption. Not the kind where everything was perfect and easy. It was redemption that was fought and paid for on the cross. Messy and full of unsaid apologies.

We’re trying now, to have a relationship. I notice differences in how my stepdad talks to me that shows he’s changed. He’s growing too, just like I am.

Some days, I still don’t think much of God. I think He doesn’t care or notice all the things that I carry heavy on my heart. But somehow, I’m still growing up. He loves me a lot more than I love Him.

And for that, I’m grateful.


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