Finding Strength Through a Window to the Past

"Why?" Rhyane called out as she wept, her tears mixing with the water cascading down her body. A shower usually made her feel better, like washing away all her disgrace, but it wasn't working this time. She stepped out of the shower and wrapped the towel around her, not bothering to dry off.

 She walked to her bed and stared at the scattered divorce papers. "How did I get here? I don't understand." She shoved the papers out of the way, climbed into bed with her towel wrapped around her, pulled her comforter up over her shoulders, and sobbed. As she muffled her sobs with her pillow, a gradual pressure came over her body, like an oversized blanket getting heavier, pushing her through the bed. 

When she opened her eyes, she was in a large room with dark gray cement walls and a large picture window on one side. A mist rose from the floor, and a figure appeared beside her. Her pulse pounded, and she grabbed for her comforter, suddenly very aware of her lack of clothing. The indistinguishable figure spoke to her, but its voice was inaudible, Do not be afraid, Rhyane. She looked down, her bed was gone, and she was fully clothed.

"Who—Who are you?" Rhyane's voice quivered, despite her efforts to calm herself.

I am a friend.

Through the window, two shadows caught her attention. She could barely make out a young woman walking hand in hand with a young man. She strained to get a better look. "Is that — me!?" 

She knew that place, but it was a place from a long time ago. Her heart raced faster. "What is happening?" Her eyes darted left and right as she stepped back to try to find her bed again.

Here's your chance, Rhyane. 

"My chance? For what?"

To stop yourself.

"From what?"

From making a mistake. How would you get your attention?

She watched as nineteen-year-old Rhyane walked up the path and into the house with Jake, and she called out, "NO! Don't do it!"

"She — I can't hear me! Oh, no! NO!"

Rhyane closed her eyes. She knew what was coming. When she opened her eyes, she was in her old apartment. She walked to the bathroom, knowing what she would find. There she was, curled up in the corner of the small square shower, weeping.

"Used goods. I wasn't good enough for Jake to stick around."

Did you want him to?

"Of course I did!"

Her new friend didn't say anything, but she could feel the implication.  

Her confidence shaken by the silence, she tried to stand firm, "I — I wouldn't have given myself to him if I didn't want him to stay."

But you were hoping he would stay because you gave yourself to him.

"Isn't that love?"

No, my dear.

"But, that's what he kept saying, 'If you love me, you would be with me…'"

That's not love. That's manipulation. True love asks for nothing in return.

"I don't know that I've ever known true love."

You haven't. Because you haven't known me.

Rhyane paused. Four words hung in her mind, "You haven't known me."

She turned to the figure beside her, eyes wide, "God?!"

Yes, my child. 

Heat rose in her chest, and her body trembled, "I didn't know you. I don’t know you!” Rhyane spoke through clenched teeth, "How could I? You weren't there when I needed you most! Where were you when Mom was sick? I called for you! You let her die!"

Unaffected by her harshness, God spoke gently. I was there, and I heard you. You wanted me to do something for you to show you I loved you.

"I thought we were supposed to ask you for help. Dad said, 'We need to pray for your mom.' That was the first time I ever even heard about praying."

If you only heard from someone when they wanted something, what would you think of that relationship? Isn't that what Jake did to you? 

The question hung in the air. Rhyane opened her mouth, but the words didn't come. The truth of God's words sunk in. Rhyane thought, "Jake was just the first of many." She couldn't bring herself to say it out loud, afraid to confess her offenses.

Your mother's body failed. Her physical healing is not what she needed or what you needed.

"What do you mean? What did I need more than my mother?" Rhyane snapped. Her eyes filled with tears.

Strength.

"Strength?" Her tone softened, hopeful for answers.

Through your mother's death, I gave you a new strength that protected you from much worse than what you have gone through.

“God, I don't know if I'm following… are you still trying to show me why I keep choosing men who don't love me?"

Yes, my dear. You choose what was demonstrated to you.

"Demonstrated? By whom?"

Your father.

"Pshh. Dad? He was hardly around after mom died." Memories flooded her mind of her dad always gone before four am and coming home late from work after killing a few hours at the bar on the way. 

As if God heard her thoughts, he responded gently, Yes. And through that, you felt abandoned again, so you chose men who would abandon you because that's what you knew.

Rhyane hung her head, "Even my father didn't want to be around me."

He did. But he was hurting, too, remember. The loss of your mother consumed him and took him away from you. So you've been seeking your father's love in the arms of other men.

"No one in our family was the same after Mom died. It was like we were empty and angry. I felt so alone."

Look again, Rhyane. Were you alone?

Rhyane gazed into the window to the past. She saw flashes of different times in her life following her mother’s death, and through them all, she saw a silhouette next to her.

"You were there? But, why couldn't I feel you?"

You chose a path of life without me. You believed you were alone, so you tried to do everything yourself. You tried to fill the void you felt with what you thought was love.

Rhyane shifted uncomfortably, "I thought if I were married, I would be happier. Mark actually committed to marriage, but he still left! Was divorce part of your plan?" 

Divorce is never part of my plans, my child. But you can only learn from your mistakes if you are allowed to experience the consequences. 

"Why didn't you stop him? Why didn't you change his heart?"

He never gave it to me.

"I guess he never gave it to me, either."

You have been seeking after what you didn't have as a child.

"What I didn't have as a child was a mother – or a father."

Rhyane slumped her back against the cold, gray wall and slid down to the floor. She hugged her knees to her chest and buried her face in her arms. Her mind was reeling. The pain of losing her mother buzzed like a freshly exposed nerve. 

"I didn't even get to say goodbye." 

Let's go there, then.

"Go where?"

To say goodbye.

"To Mom? Oh, that was so painful. Do I have a choice?"

You always have a choice, my child.

"I was so young. Will you stay with me?"

I'm always with you.

"Will it hurt?"

There's always some pain with healing, and I want to heal you.

"Oh, God. I don't know if I can go back. It still hurts."

How can you treat a wound if you don't look at it?

Rhyane closed her eyes. Tears spilled out and streamed down her face.

I will wait until you're ready, my child.

"Will you hold my hand?"

I will carry you.

Rhyane wrapped her arms around herself. Let me, my child. God lifted her into his arms like a groom lifts his bride on his wedding day. 

She wrapped her arms around his neck, took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and whispered, "I'm ready, God." She closed her eyes again and sighed, and her tears flowed freely. The pressure felt like a giant bear hug from her grandfather.

When she opened her eyes, she saw herself, twelve years old, waiting in the hospital lobby. She held the gift she'd picked out for her mom's birthday in one hand, and in the other was a white carnation, her mom's favorite flower. Her family surrounded her as they waited for the doctor to tell them they could visit.

"God, I can't do it."

Don't be afraid. I will not leave you.

"But I know what the doctor is going to say. She's dead. I can't see her; I'm too young. Oh, please, let me say goodbye."

A cool breeze swirled around her, and Rhyane was joined with her twelve-year-old self. She felt weightless and free. She closed her eyes and breathed in the peace. When she opened her eyes, she was at her mother's bedside. "Mommy?" Her mother didn't look sick at all. Instead, her cheeks were rosy, and her blue-gray eyes were bright and full of life. Her smile was just as radiant as Rhyane remembered.

Her mom took her hand, "Hello, my sweet one. I was hoping to see you before it was time to go." 

"Oh, Mommy. Please don't go.” 

"Oh, baby. Don't worry.” Her mother squeezed her hand.

“What will I do without you?"

“God is with you now. You just need to open your heart to him. You will do great things, sweetheart. Let him show you. I love you so much. Never forget that."

Rhyane pressed her mother's hand to her cheek, wet with tears. "Oh, Mommy! I love you, too!"

The breeze stirred again, lifting Rhyane and her mom, distorting their images to appear as spirits, and bringing them together for one last embrace. Rhyane detected the faint scent of her mother's perfume, and she breathed in deep, allowing her emotions to spill out.

Their images faded, and when Rhyane opened her eyes, she was in the empty hospital waiting room with God by her side.

Are you ready to let go? 

"Can I have another minute?"

Yes, my child. Take all the time you need.

They sat in silence for what seemed like hours to Rhyane. She finally took a deep breath and sighed, "I know you can't bring my mom back, but I have peace. Thank you for letting me say goodbye."

Rhyane, come and let me hold you. She crawled up into his lap like she used to crawl into her daddy's lap as a child. God took Rhyane in his arms, and dark shadows flowed from her heart to his, the guilt and shame of her mistakes seeping into him. Let me take these. You don't need to carry them.

"No, God. Please. They're too dirty."

You have been washed clean. I have forgiven you. I will work all things for your good because I love you. So you can walk in the freedom of forgiveness. 

Rhyane closed her eyes, rested her head on God's shoulder, and whispered, "Oh, God, thank you."

She woke up to the sound of her alarm. Still wrapped in her towel, she glanced at the divorce papers on her bed. Then, she made her way to the bathroom, looked in the mirror, and said, "He made his choice. You can't force him to love you any more than God forces us to love Him."

As she walked through her apartment. Her pain was replaced with peace. The emptiness that once seemed dark and lonely now seemed fresh and inviting, like a clean slate. She had a new resolve to make better choices in the future.

She looked out the window and saw the sun rising over the fog in the valley. She smiled and closed her eyes, then she whispered, "God? Thank you for helping me understand my choices. Please help me to love you and learn to love myself. Thank you for allowing me to say goodbye to my mother."