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Two Hearts Are Now One
By Rebecca Hanson, Fri Dec 9th
© Copyright 1997 - 2005 Rebecca Hanson Please ask permission toreproduce this article. Rebecca@YouCanHaveItAll.com February 14, 1997 It is fitting that I should write this story on Valentines Day,for this is a story of two broken hearts; healed and mended,then melted together as one--in an instant. This is a story ofTrue Love.
Anyone who comes from a broken family understands the pain ofdivorce. I was twenty-seven years old when my parents divorced,and while some people think that a person shouldn't be"affected" by such things once they are adults, I can assureyou--I WAS! I was shocked when my parents divorced. I had noforewarning in the natural. But, on the day that my dad told mymom that he was moving out, I felt a great anxiety in myspirit--so great that I told my husband, "Something is terriblywrong in California. I want to phone home." Considering the factthat I was three thousand miles away, on a remote island inNorthern Canada, when I felt this anxiety, you can appreciatethat I was deeply affected. Pain and confusion became constant companions as I tried to"understand" what had happened--what right did he have to leavemy mother? Whose standard was he using to exercise his right toleave her? What had she done that was so terrible that he couldnot live with her? I had questions and I asked them of nearlyeveryone around me. I asked God the same questions, and in sodoing, I realized that my own life was in quite a mess. As Icame into a better alignment with God, I searched the Bible for"the answer" to all my questions about my dad. Since he had beena Baptist minister at one time, I felt certain that he wouldknow and obey what the Bible said about such an important issue. About two years after the divorce, the whole family gathered inCalifornia--for one of those BIG attempts to bringreconciliation--I felt certain that dad would listen to God'sWord. I reached for my Bible and said, "Dad, look at what Godhas to say about what you are doing." Before I could find thecarefully selected passage of scripture that would straightenthis mess out, he stood up and loudly cursed me, the Bible andthe whole family. Then he walked out. Needless to say we wereall in shock. The shock of that cursing lasted a longtime--eighteen years for myself, and twenty years for my brotherand sister. Eighteen years is a long time. Think about it. It generallytakes eighteen years to graduate from high school. A whole"lifetime" of events takes place in eighteen years. During thoseyears, contact with my dad was minimal. A card from him on mybirthday, Christmas cards, the odd phone call which alwaysstirred up the pain. Someone would hear about something that hewas doing and he would again become the topic of ourconversation for weeks. My mother never stopped talking abouthim. She never let him go. My mom maintained her relationship with God throughout this longpainful separation. She read her Bible, went to church, caredabout us kids and loved her grandkids. She worked as a secretaryand saved her money so she wouldn't be a burden on anyone whenshe retired. But, always, she was obsessed with talking about mydad. I would say that most of our conversations about him werejudgemental. After all, we read our Bibles; we knew that what hehad done was wrong. She had done nothing that the Biblesanctioned as reason for divorce. By the time of his thirdmarriage, we knew he wasn't coming back to her. Still, hisactions and their effect on our lives were frequent topics ofour conversations. After many years, I gave up hope for my dad to ever bereconciled to his family. I doubted he was even a Christian. Ifelt he was a totally lost, immoral, unstable, unsavory person.That was a very dark time for me. Gradually, I got used to thedarkness in my own soul--it seemed normal. Mother did retire and she moved from California to Canada to benear my family. She had missed out on much of the growing up ofmy five children, and she wanted to get to know them. She boughta condominium two blocks from my house and the kids enjoyedhaving "Gran" live so close. One year after moving here, she wasdiagnosed with Lou Gehrig's disease. Lou Gehrig's disease was a death sentence. There was no cure.There was no treatment. I spent four months pryaing and askingGod to heal my mother. Finally, the answer came: "Help her die."I accepted her diagnosis and did all I could to help her. I wish I could tell you that
I was a "good little Christian" whopraised and thanked God every day for His righteousjudgements--but, the truth is that I questioned God. I reallyfelt that it was unfair of Him to let my dad go free, when hewas the one who had done this great wrong to his family, and toallow my mother to die this cruel death. Finally, I asked God,"How do You see this situation?" The answer He spoke to my heartwould one day transform all our lives. About a year after my mother died, I felt something stirringinside of me--a desire to see my dad. In the long eighteen yearsof separation, I had only invited him once to visit my home andduring that visit I had tried again--and unsuccessfully,again--to confront him with the Bible. I had no reason to expectthat another visit would end differently, but I honored thatdesire anyway and invited him for a long weekend. My dad came armed with his own arsenal of justifications. Heknew what to expect from me. I hadn't planned anything specificto confront him on--I didn't need to, I had a whole list ofoffenses that I could whip out at any given moment. So, theweekend progressed--awkwardly, but quietly. I had no idea that Spirit was about to move in on us in apowerful way. I simply invited two gentlemen friends over forlunch. They lead a prayer group I attended and I suppose I hopedthey would "say something" important to my dad. If not, it was away to let others meet my dad and see the man who had so woundedme. We were sitting around my dining room table, when onegentleman began telling the story of a young soldier inNapoleon's army who had gone A.W.O.L., been caught and was nowabout to face the firing squad. This young man's mother came toNapoleon and pleaded for mercy for her son. Napoleon replied,"He doesn't deserve mercy." To which the mother implored, "But,Sir, if he deserved it, it wouldn't be mercy!" At that, Napoleonallowed the boy to live. After telling this story, the gentlemansaid, "I have no idea why I told that story. It just came intomy head." As he has been speaking, I felt the strangest sensation of heatcome over my head and into my chest. Without wavering, I said,"I know why you told that story." I turned toward my dad andgently said, "Dad, when mom was dying, I felt that God was beingvery unfair. So I asked Him what He had to say about thesituation. Would you like to hear what God had to say about youand mom?" The room was very quiet. I could tell that my dad wasafraid to know. But, after a few moments he indicated that hewould. I felt the heat increasing as I reached deep into my soul forthose words, "He said, ‘I could not heal your mother, becauseshe would not forgive. But I see the wounds upon your father'sheart, and I have pity on him.'" In the moment I spoke thosewords, the power of Spirit hit both of us "like lightening." Westood up, pushed our chairs back from the table and fell intoeach others arms, sobbing. After quite a while of crying andkissing, we sat down again--even the two gentlemen present werecrying--and I realized that I could not remember even one ofthose offenses on my "list." The whole list was erased from mymemory--and five years later, it is still gone! From that day on, my dad and I have had a relationship that isfar beyond mere "reconciliation" or "recovery." We never had arelationship like this before--ever! This is a totally newrelationship! We talk on the phone every weekend, we plan visitsaround special holidays, we go to conferences together. Wherebefore my dad had been closed to the "things of the Spirit," dueto the wounding caused by my own judgementalism and legalism,now he is hungry for more of the Spirit. Right away my dad beganhaving powerful dreams which he KNEW were from God. He sharesthese dreams with me and we discuss their possible meanings. Two years after this momentous day, my dad was reconciled to mybrother and sister. My family traveled to California where wehad a true "family reunion." It had been twenty years since thedivorce. Whenever my dad and I are together, we look for an opportunityto share our story. It is a story that brings hope to hopelesslybroken relationships. It is a True Love story. Do you have asecret dream, desire or hope? Contact Rebecca to learn how YOUcan live your dream! About the author:Rebecca is a clear, articulate, strong visionary with anabundance of knowledge and the skills required to initiate andsustain any enterprise. Rebecca's leadership is a blend ofspiritual gifts and practical application. She has touched andhelped transform the lives of hundreds of individuals.
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