Steps

Danielle King, Web Administrator

My parents have been separated since I was a small child, and my father remarried the summer before I turned 6 years old. I have always felt that my situation was a pretty good one as far as blended families go, with my parents mostly getting along and both living in town. But at the end of the day, it was still a complicated situation and at times very painful for me.

My weekends visiting with my dad changed dramatically. No longer was I the main focus of my dad's attention each Saturday and Sunday; he was a husband now, and also a stepfather to three sons.

We were all struggling to figure out this new normal and there was little grace or patience going around in the midst of it. As an adult looking back, I can understand the changes and challenges. As a child going through them, it felt like I lost my second home and was truly only a visitor who didn't really belong there. I felt unwelcome and unwanted, specifically by my stepmom.

Over the next decade, relationships were strained to the point where my weekend visits with my dad consisted of him picking me up to each lunch together sitting at the Niagara River, then taking me back home. Not long after that season of lunches at the river, my stepmom's health had deteriorated to the point that she couldn't be home alone while my dad was at work. She had Multiple Sclerosis and had fallen a few times without being able to call for help. She moved to the southern tier to live with a friend who could stay with her during the day. She and my dad were legally divorced, my dad truly believing it was best for her health.

At 18 years old, I officially moved into my dad's house. I had my childhood room back; in fact, my aunts and uncles pitched in to remodel and decorate it as a surprise. It was just me and my dad again for almost a year. Then my stepmom came to visit... and there was talk of her staying. But she wanted to ask for my permission.

I felt years of emotions rise in me, and the fear of losing the home I'd finally reclaimed. I wasn't a child anymore, and was ready to quit being a victim. Well, I thought I was ready to quit being a victim, but really I wanted to capitalize on it and use it as a source of retribution. I contemplated the power I had to deny her request to move in. For the first time in my life, I confronted her with how she made me feel as a child. To my surprise, she immediately started crying and asked for forgiveness. The angry, villainous stepmother I imagined was not who sat in front of me.

In a message at Passion 2018, one of the main speakers, Christine Caine, said there's a point where we have to "show what Christ did FOR me is bigger than what they did TO me... Jesus sets us free." At that moment, God offered me the true path to healing, not that I recognized it. Mostly because I was dumbfounded, I said I forgave her and told her it was okay with me if she rejoined our family and home. Honestly, my faith was not very deep at that time in my life and I wasn't consciously exercising the power of Christ, but I can see the truth of Christine Caine's statement by reflecting on that moment. It took a lot longer for forgiveness to fully bloom, but it surely sprouted that day.

She moved back home. She and my dad remarried. She passed away in 2013. We were not a Hallmark movie of mother and daughter love, but we watched a lot of those together. And laughed together. And prayed. And cried. And celebrated my first pregnancy. And she held my daughter in her arms when she could barely hold her arms up herself. I never could have imagined this kind of relationship with her if I had held onto my anger and bitterness. Praise God that His plans are beyond our own imagination, and that He graciously works things together for good. He took those small steps of surrender, hers and mine, and brought about healing in leaps and bounds. I only wish we had started sooner.