Have you ever met someone who is so blinded by jealousy that they
have done awful things to their supposed loved ones because they felt that they
were being used? It is not a good to be around people who are insanely jealous;
it depletes you of your joy and causes too much stress. I know I have been
jealous several times in my life because I allowed the chatter in my head get
the best of me. In fact, I was raised with a mother who was jealous of everyone
including her own daughters. One time my mother became aware that people she
and dad knew would take their pictures to be developed at the Five & Dime
corner store so mother would methodically look through every name she
recognized and opened their envelopes to look through everyone’s pictures to
see if she could find evidence that dad is being unfaithful.
Unfortunately, back in the day, pictures were not as secured as
they are today. Well, one specific day, mother hit the jackpot when she found
one incriminating picture of my dad leaning over and talking to a young lady (I
can still remember who was in the picture) because she took me with her on one
of her spying journey. Immediately, mother
questioned me about the young lady in the picture to see if I knew her or not.
She asked me if I have ever seen this young lady visit grandma’s house, and I
said no. Apparently, mother thought that this picture must have been taken at grandma’s
house when dad was staying there. Mother had all the ammo that she needed to
prove his unfaithfulness.
Finding this picture was the straw that broke the camel’s back.
She asked me again, “do you know who this
girl is?” and again, I said no. “Do
you see lots of girls going to your grandmother’s house?” I said yes (I did
not know any better). All I knew was that grandmas house was a place that
everyone went to after church to have meals, sing and fellowship. Every weekend
grandmother’s house was busy with activities. It was the norm. Then she said, “Don’t tell your father about this picture,
I will speak to him later. You will do what I tell you when I need you.” This
took place around the middle of the week and all was real quiet.
The following Sunday, dad was scheduled to pick me up, and my
mother made sure that I was bathed, fed, and dressed. Once I was prepared,
mother then told me what I was to do for her. I was to sit down on the couch,
face the door, and I was to ask dad to enter when he knocked. That was all I
thought at the time. Simple! The scene was propped and the hour was at hand. Suddenly
I heard footsteps coming up the marble staircase and then there was a knock at
the door. Everything was going well up to that moment. I was sitting in place,
except that there was an added part to the equation that I was not aware of. Mother had a butcher knife in her hand and as I looked at her, she gave me a
look of evil (one of her evil characters was about to emerge). My heart
pounded, my stomach sank into my knees, and my nerves were uncontrollable, but
with a soft, yet shaky voice, I told dad to come in. The doorknob turned and
with each second my heart raced. I looked at mother, and she glared at me with
pure evil. The doorknob finally clicked and my father opened the door. Every
fiber of my being wanted to tell him to run but I could not. I was only 6 years
of age.
He looked at me, but I could not move or say anything else. He
must have seen the look of panic on my face. Dad then realized that I was
looking at something behind the door. He jumped to the right, away from the door,
when, the door slammed. Mother jumped at my father with the butcher knife. They
fell to the ground and began to roll around. I could not move. My heart was
pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears.
Mother was like a screaming banshee. Dad was trying to get her off
of him but she had the strength of several men put together. The struggle for
the butcher knife seemed like an eternity. In the peak of the struggle, dad
realized that I was sitting in my place and watching all of this. He yelled for me to leave the room, but
mother wanted me to stay and watch. I listened to dad and I ran to another room
and covered my ears. Afterwards, what appeared to take forever ended, and
silence entered the room.
Dad had left the building and I was left behind. For many years
that scene haunted me. I was wounded and brokenhearted for many years until I
returned to my first Love Jesus Christ. Whatever your story, if you have not
resolved your issues from your past and still are brokenhearted and struggling
with your wounds, know this…you are not alone. In 1996 I began my healing
journey and by 1998, I no longer had haunting dreams and was no longer
brokenhearted because of this specific incident. The Bible says “He heals the brokenhearted and binds up
their wounds.” Psalms 147:3
Healing does happen and if you desire healing from your past, seek
help and support. Your broken heart and your wounds can be healed by the Master
Healer. Trust Him today! He is waiting for you.
To get a copy of my book Awaken The Silence, please visit vivionnekeli.com
or amazon.com
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