Monday, September 23, 2013
Remembering a Childhood Best Forgotten
This is my blended family. The two girls in the back in white - that's my sister (the slightly taller one) and me. I was around 11 years old when this was taken. And, that's my dad next to me. He was a single father of the two of us girls until I was 8. That's when he met and married the woman in gray. She came to us with two kids of her own - the two brunettes. The two little blondies... those are my two baby brothers, the products of my dad and step-mom.
Ah how we always looked like such a perfect little family. If only people knew.
It seems every good memory comes with a bad one attached. Every bad memory comes with a good memory hanging on for dear life. I've been told over and over again to let go of those bad memories. But how can one honestly do that? In a childhood like mine... one with so many beautiful siblings and wonderful memories interwoven with abuse and cruelty and pain... it's difficult to untangle. And, if you toss away the bad, it seems to lessen the beauty of the good. You can't have one without the other.
If you have never seen the dark, how do you know how bright the light is? If you never experience chaos, how do you know what true peace is? If have never felt hate, how do you know if you've ever felt love? If you've never felt sorrow, how can you appreciate joy?
Sometimes you have to see the misery and pain and destruction of this world to accept and appreciate and be grateful for the love, mercy and grace of God.