I spoke with my grandmother today;
As a child I loved her.
As a teenager I became skeptical of her.
As an adult I'd grown to hate her.
Tonight as I spoke to my 80-something year old grandmother I was skeptical that she would still be in her mind long enough for me to tell her that I was sorry for the bitterness and resentment I had for her. I believe that skepticism was enough faith for me to go forward with my amends; it is quite a twist of fate.
"But, what is there to make amends for?" Of that i won't speak of; for because of it I have been tangled up on the inside for as long as I could remember.
"But, what are you sorry about, baby?" is what she said to me after I told her why I was calling. As this is not the first time that I've had a conversation like this with her, I wasn't hearing anything that I'd never heard before; however, this time I wasn't offended by her sweet ignorance.
I've come to realize that she really doesn't know why I would have any resentments towards her; she truly doesn't understand, and that it is not my place to make her realize that. The only thing I have to offer is my forgiveness, and then I can move on to the task of untangling the mess.
"I only tried to raise you up right, and you could become a good man: a God fearing man." she said to me in a typical Liberty County drawl that--since my return to the church in Patton Village--I've come to love. "And I think you turned out all right."
The Lord is a good God, and he's doing things that I never thought were possible. Also things that I would have never expected in times like these.