Accepting My Story
By Alisha Renee
When I was 29, I lost my dad. He was helping to build an orphanage in Thailand when he had a heart attack and died. I loved my dad. Nothing can ever prepare you for the moment when you hear the words, ‘He passed away.’ The suddenness of his passing was like he had been ripped from this world, ripped from my life, and it honestly felt like part of my heart ripped out and left with him.
Five years later, Grief knocked on my door again. I didn’t want it to come in. It barged in anyway. My mum was diagnosed with cancer in April, 2014 and died just 10 weeks later. I miss my mum. Is it possible for someone to be an orphan at 34? If it is, then that's what I am—an orphan.
God was beautifully faithful during this painful journey of loss. He held my heart and brought people to walk beside me. But it was a long, hard journey with a myriad of emotions clamouring for air time.
In the years of processing my pain, there was a key, defining moment when I could finally say ‘goodbye’ to anger and self-pity and ‘hello’ to hope and freedom. It was the moment when I chose to accept my story.
I vividly remember lying on my bed realising that I needed to make peace with my story. I didn’t need to like it; I just needed to accept it. I remember crying aloud to God saying, ‘I don't like that my story includes my parents dying before I'm 35, but this is my story. I accept my story.’
Acceptance doesn’t mean you have to like what happened. Some pain just can’t be beautified. There are many things that happen in life that are just not OK. But we can still be OK when things are not OK. In making peace with my story, I felt an unexpected freedom wash over me. Accepting my story didn’t mean it didn’t hurt anymore, but it did mean I was now giving the wound a chance to heal. I could let my heart live and love freely again.
I still have a scar. I still feel the tenderness when the scar of my parents' death is prodded, especially when, as a mother of three, I see grandparents with their grandkids. But I choose to embrace the scars. My scars tell their own story. This scar reminds me that I loved, was loved, and that I’ve learned important lessons about life and about myself that have helped shape the person I am today. This scar also reminds me of my heavenly Father’s faithfulness. He was with me in my pain, just like He promised He would be.
PROMPT: What story are your scars telling?
PRAYER: Father, I don’t like the part of my story where _______________. But I accept my story. It still hurts. My story doesn’t define my worth or my value, You do. I trust you to help heal the wound and bring freedom to my heart.
