How much does forgiveness cost?

As a single mother, it was difficult to find daycare. When the children were out of school, I had no one to take care of them because my mother worked for the school district and often had to go to work even though the children were away. On this particular morning, I found myself in that situation.

The morning started like any other, sunny, hot and very humid. Such is life in the great state of Texas. However, this particular day would be a turning point in my life.

The children did not have school that day. They were too young to be home alone, and the nursery wouldn’t accept children for a day. Leaving work was not an option. So, I was faced with the difficult task of finding a babysitter.

Against my better judgment, I took my children to their father who was living with their parents at the time. I drove the fifteen or so miles to her house with butterflies in my stomach. I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling I had. (Don’t let anyone tell you that woman’s intuition isn’t real.) He knew something was wrong, but he had no other choice.

I started rehearsing over and over in my mind what I would do when I got there: drop the kids off at the front door, watch them walk in and rush out. I didn’t want to give his father a chance to get close to me. I didn’t want to be put in a compromising position.

Initially, everything progressed according to plan. But, all the rehearsal in the world couldn’t have prepared me for what was about to happen next. In my wildest dreams, I could never have imagined that the father of my children could be so calculating, so callous, and so cruel.

I arrived at my in-laws house determined to follow my plan to the letter. I left the children and saw them enter. I immediately flipped the switch and started my car.
As I walked away, I heard my husband yell something at me. I stopped, rolled down my window, and asked him what he had said.

“Your mother is on the phone,” he yelled.

Cell phones weren’t available at the moment, so believing it; I put the car in reverse and parked in the driveway. I headed for the front door apprehensively, but I also knew I didn’t want to keep my mom waiting. Once inside the house, I noticed that all the curtains were drawn and that there were no lights on. Even in the morning sun, the house seemed eerily dark. I moved towards the kitchen quickly. I saw the phone, but what I saw scared me. The phone hung loose by the cold, hard counter. A busy signal echoed eerily through the room.

I could feel my stomach touch my back. Fear washed over me like a stampede of horses desperately trying to cross the finish line in the Kentucky Derby. My heart was beating like a time bomb that would go off at any moment. My head was pounding so hard I thought it was going to explode. My brain was telling my feet to run, but they weren’t moving fast enough. When I got back to the front door, it was locked and my worst nightmare was about to come true. It was like a scene from a horror movie. You suddenly feel like you are in a tunnel and the closer you get to the door, the further away it seems to be. I tried to get his five foot eight inch frame away from the door, but my five foot three inches just wasn’t a match for him. My attempts were useless. He slowly advanced towards me like a snake about to devour its prey. My mind went completely blank as the panic set in. I went completely blank as I furiously tried to find an escape route. As often as I had been in this house, it never occurred to me that there was only one entrance and one exit. When I tried to escape, he grabbed me and pulled me close to him. She could smell the stench of marijuana on his breath. He forced me into his parents’ room by clawing and screaming, but it was as if my screams were falling on deaf ears.

Fortunately, my children were locked in another room fast asleep. It scratched, it hit, it bit; but nothing deterred him from his mission to humiliate me at all costs. He began tugging and tugging at my clothing, slowly ripping my soul out with each yank. He finally arrived at his destination and had access to what he was looking for. I thought to myself, “Here it comes.” Suddenly, I thought of my children. What would happen to them if they woke up? Although his father had never hurt them before, in this state of mind, there was no telling what he would do. He couldn’t be sure.

I also knew that my children would be scared and confused by the chaos that was taking place. I closed my eyes, braced myself, and stayed silent and still. In my mind, I tried to take myself to another place. He wanted to be as far away from there as possible.

She pushed and turned, moaned and moaned until she was tired. All she could think about was when she would end the madness. At this time, my children were my main concern. They were the only reason I could bear what was happening to me right now. Again they were my strength; my courage I couldn’t bear the thought of them being hurt in any way, so I kept silent and still.

I’m sure my husband thought he had won. The truth is that the depth of a mother’s love is sometimes so deep that even the most tragic of situations can cause her to triumph over adversity for the sake of her children.

After the test was over, I quietly and quickly gathered the children together as my husband looked on with a smirk on his face. I returned to my vehicle, grateful that at least I had my life. We walked away in silence, I was stunned.

Disheveled, heartbroken and disappointed, I called my mother at work and she came home immediately.

A friend of mine, concerned that I had not shown up for work, called me. When I told her what happened, she also rushed to my side. Together we called the police to report the incident.

“Houston Police Department, how can I direct your call?” the voice on the other end of the phone said.

“Yes, I want to report an incident,” I said unable to call it what it was.

“What kind of incident, ma’am?”

“An assault,” I replied.

“One moment, please.”

The next few moments were almost surreal. I began to explain exactly what had happened to me at the hands of my husband.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but there’s nothing we can do. This is classified as a domestic dispute. We can file a complaint, but that’s all we can do.”

After giving my soul to this woman, all she could offer me was to file a complaint with the department. Why was the system like this? How could they let someone get away with an act as heinous as this? It’s just not right! That’s not fair! These were the first thoughts I had after coming out of my fog.

Disappointed and inconsolable, I cleaned myself up, changed my clothes, and never spoke of this incident again until now. No one except someone who has been through this before could understand how much this whole ordeal hurts. You can change everything. It can slowly devour your soul if you let it.
After this, how was she going to trust another man again? How could she ever have intimate feelings again? How could I even trust my own judgement?

The destructive actions of the abuse and its messages threatened to bind me. The guilt and shame I felt engulfed me like a flame. I struggled not to internalize the destructive messages so that I would not end up in a place that God did not have for my life. The internalization of violence caused self-blame instead of the ability to see myself in the process of becoming. Every day you fight to keep a little piece of your soul from completely slipping away. My children were a big part of that.

It may sound strange now, but I thank God every day for my ex-husband (he became my ex-husband many years later when I filed for divorce myself) because he taught me many things. Not the kind of lessons you can learn in a classroom or Sunday school, but lessons that can only come from experience, wisdom, and maturity. Without it, you may never have learned just how resilient you could really be. I would not know the true meaning of forgiveness.

How does one come back from such trauma and forgive? It’s not easy, but I’ve heard someone say that not being able to forgive is like drinking poison and expecting someone else to die. Not forgiving only hurts you. Usually the perpetrator is long gone. You, the victim, are left bitter, vindictive, and resentful. If you’re not careful, you’ll find yourself all alone as people slowly drift away due to your constant inability to maintain healthy relationships.

For me, forgiveness was a conscious decision. It was a choice I made. Even now, some people don’t get it. If I hadn’t chosen to forgive, my life would be on a downward spiral.
Let it be clear, I did not forget what my husband did to me, nor did I deny his responsibility. I simply chose to get rid of the thoughts and feelings that linked me to the offense. I did not minimize what they had done to me. Instead, I gave the pain, shame, disappointment, and humiliation to God. I allowed the Holy Spirit to help me forgive my ex-husband and myself. Forgiving him enriched my life in ways no one could imagine. I had to learn to release all the guilt, anger, and fear of God before I could move on. Forgiveness, however, was not the most important lesson my “ex” taught me. The most important lesson he taught me was knowing the kind of man I didn’t want in my life.