Her father wasn't her father

From Anonymous:

I was 28 years old when, during a ride to town my mother told me a secret she had kept for herself all those years. At that time, I had an 18 months boy and a 4 months old baby. Suffering from post partum depression I was sharing with my mom how afraid I was to be in depression for a long time and end my life as my dad who was in a nursing home suffering from a disease similar to Alzheimer. 

She answered me by saying that she had something to share and that it would be for my good. She said I didn't have to worry about being like my dad because he wasn't my real dad. I remember so well this event. As I was driving and thinking in the same time, I didn't know really what to think. 

She asked me if I wanted to knonw who my real dad was, and sure I wanted to know. He was actually my neighboor who had 7 children of his own and who had died 18 years before. My mother made me promise that I would never share this secret with anyone. Maybe, if I wanted I was able to tell my husband, but none others (and especially not her other children). 

She had never told anyone about it, not the man who was my real dad nor the man I used to call Dad. After this talk she never came back to this subject again, even though I tried to come back on it. She shortly after that adopted a muslim young man who was my age.

Growing up, I never felt very close to my dad, and I did like very much my neighboor, and his family, playing with his children and being close to them. One of his daughter even made my hairstyle on my wedding day.

I was afraid of my mother, and growing up, I don't remember having gone against her will. But as time passed after the secret was unfolded to me, I started feeling angry at every one, even those I loved the most : my husband and children. 

As christians we wanted to do the best, yet something was hindering me from being the wife and the mother God wanted me to be. I finally shared with others my secret, and I wrote to my mother two years ago, asking her to open her heart to her other children - who are my brother and sister as well. I told her all about my heartache, and how I, in my teen years, was always feeling guilty and impure though I didn't know why. 

She didn't take it very well. I wanted a true relationship with her and not a shallow one as it was at that time. I asked her if we could write to each other instead of calling, not mentioning that when she called I was feeling tied up and not able to open my heart for fear of rejection. She didn't aggree with that. I assured her of my love, and told her that if she didn't want to share her secret I would do it, as kindly and respectfully as possible. She didn't aggree with that either. 

So I shared, because it was very difficult for me to live with this secret in my heart. It was the secret of my identity, and I couldn’t keep it for myself. I wanted to be who I truly am, and not trying to hide again a secret that almost destroyed my marriage and my life.

The Lord was good to us, and through this freeing process - at least for me- our couple is doing much better, and I am learning to give my anger and my feeling of guilt, my fears of rejection to God, and this is a wonderful thing. 

Yet, the sad part is that my mother doesn't want to correspond with me. I sent her a gift for her birthday, and my love as well. But for my own birthday in december last year, I received a card. She used to call me her little girl, and there it was only Hello. She started her card with sharing with me the questions a mother asked herself while looking at her baby girl 34 years ago. "How will she be? Will she love God? How will she face life? How will be her husband and children? And she finished by writing those two questions? Will she be willing to be close to her mother when she will grow older? and If disease would appear, would she be a help to her mother? Then she answered her own questions: "34 years after her mother has the answer, Happy birthday, mother"

That was a hard blow on me, but Praise God, He gave me His peace. And I was able, only by God's grace, to remain calm, as before I would have been mad, and again struggling with feeling of unworthyness, or anger. I am not any more in contact with my mom for the moment, but I do love her dearly, and pray for her, because I know she is hurting and she needs healing and true freedom. 

Though she is well recognized in her church, I fear she is not really experiencing freedom in Jesus. What happened 34+ years ago is history, and I am part of this history. I don’t judge my mother for what she did, even though I am sad that she, a commited christian, did commit « adultery ». God forgives, and we sure are called to forgive as well. I am here, and my husband is happy that I am here too ! But only the truth can really set us free.

This story is a story of a family secret, but also of victory in Jesus.