This Awkward Forgiveness

Seven years and it’s still awkward. Another night of dropping off my daughter at the house of her mother, talking facts with my ex, exchanging pleasantries with the man that slept with her while she was still my wife. They are nice enough people on the whole. We’ve moved on. The whole picture, in my mind anyway, is still tinged with the act of violence that cast me onto the doorstep of the house I shared and the life I now lead.


I remarried to an awesome woman. Time has passed so the bone jarring emotion doesn’t exist. It’s just strange. Driving down the street toward my house I shrugged my shoulders and thanked the Father for His sons’ example. There is no way I could have moved on if I hadn’t forgiven. No way I could have forgiven but that I knew the violence and betrayal Christ suffered. As the blood of Christ forever changed the wood it touched so single events in our lives color our days and years.

I still don’t get out of the car when I drop my daughter off. I allow some invisible wall, some mental disconnect to continue. Knocking on the door that was mine is weird. The drive up and the drop off all possible because I gave up control and gave over anger. It’s complicated, strange and awkward-true. Over all of it though there is a peace that covers the past violence and questions and lets me move forward in wholeness. So I do.