This original poem by our friend, Janet Blessing, addresses the dilemma of whether to talk with our children, our pastors, our church friends about the abuse, the pain, the hurt, the sin infesting our home.
STILL GRIEVING
of all I’d put my children through; of all I’d done to me–
but worst of all, the despite, Lord, that I had done to Thee
while trying to submit to him (as I’d been trained to do)
Not grasping that to do so, Lord, was disobeying YOU.
Alone at 67 now, my “marriage” dead and gone,
My children cool and distant, blaming me for what went wrong;
(just the way their daddy did so often all those years
While You, Lord, were the only one to see my pain and tears…)
Today that is the one thing I can say has never changed.
My tears still fill Your bottle, though all life’s been re-arranged.
It’s so hard not to blame myself for holding on so long,
for living out that awful lie, for hiding all the wrong.
I really thought that it was “love” to cover and protect
my children from reality, so they’d learn to respect
their father. But I blew it. I enabled him SO well,
that when at last, Truth surfaced, they were ill-equipped to tell
who was the bigger liar! For in truth, we both had lied….
He in feigning love for God, me holding fast the lie
that YOU oh Lord, would change his heart if I’d “submit” enough.
Guess I just had to learn the hard way that “enabling” sin ain’t “love.”