I Forgave You Anyway

by B S Steele

  She knew way before she met me that I didn’t exactly see eye to eye with my Mother. She knew I had a soft spot for Eric, and she was prepared to make the most of that knowledge to get a ride away from my parents, who were fully aware of their deceptive ways.

  My Mom had been trying to send Alex back to her parents in another state, and have my brother stay on their property to help them fix it up for the following spring. Their cabin needed a complete overhaul and the land needed clearing. She had tried to warn me about them, to tell me how they’d lured people into a yard sale, only to steal money out of the unattended cars.

  How Alex had lied and faked an attack on one of the trails on the property after getting into a fight with my Mom, how she’d slipped jam from a farmer’s stand into my Mom’s purse, and how Eric had found a drug dealer within the first few days of settling in.

  But I didn’t want to listen. All the resentment I’d held against my Mother for the past, for not having the capacity to be the Mother I felt I deserved, were all used to bait me into taking Alex and Eric into my home.

  The first few days with them had been fun, even though it was costing me a lot of extra money to feed and transport them, I was happy to do it. I loved my brother, and the eight years we’d been estranged seemed to all come rushing back. Eric had always been my sidekick, my fellow adventurer as children. He didn’t cry in fear like my sister, or tease like my older brother. He’d just watch me pack the peanut butter and jelly, and happily follow me into the woods, hunting for fairies and rabbits.

  We’d even drank our first beer together, holed up in my bedroom, taking swallows of it in the dark, making faces at the bitter taste. He’d watched me sneak it from my Mom’s trunk from the upstairs window of our house, impressed that I’d been clever enough to notice it.

  Now, I didn’t know what would happen. Maybe he’d hate me, blaming me for putting him in jail with a possible felony riding on his record. Alex told me the day they left, that whatever happened to him would be my fault, and while I knew that wasn’t true, I was sleeping like shit, thinking about my ding-bat brother trying to swindle a dangerous drug dealer, getting shot when they smelled a rat.

  I knew it would be his eyes that gave him away. Eric has never been a man of many words, but his eyes are like deep ocean pools. They are emotional and say everything his mouth does not.

  My only comfort was Hope. The Hope that somehow, I might have gotten through to him, tough love and all. I’d think about what kind of Karma I’d created lately. I gave a lot of mercy the first time, and I showed every ounce of compassion I could towards both Alex and my brother. I tried my best to be fair and diplomatic, even when we found a cut cocaine straw in my bathroom.

  When they both broke out in sore-like acne, I believed them that it wasn’t because of the heroine that I was tipped off they were doing, but instead I believed whatever excuse they told me. I wanted to see the best, not the worst. I didn’t want to believe that Alex was at work, telling people I’ve known for years how I’m a dirty person and had roaches in my kitchen.

  I was never cruel to her, even though I sometimes wondered why I’d never seen her wash her hair, or even take it out of her handkerchief in the two months she’d been living with me. I thought she’d seen how I had long days of work, making costumes for my son, planning dentist, doctor and vet appointments for my family, on top of cooking and working late nights to help provide for us all.

  I thought she, as a woman, would understand that sometimes the dishes got left so I could finish homework with Michael, or help bathe the dog. But she didn’t care, she didn’t really love me the same way I’d grown to love her. That is what drugs do. They steal from you. They take the very soul out of your loved ones. They take away everything you build and leave you with nothing. Now all I had left of my brother was a lot of painful memories and a phone call I wasn’t sure would ever come.

  As I sat in my car, holding the little baggie of rings, I clutched them to my chest, squeezing my eyes shut and praying he’d kept the letter I’d written him days before he left.

  Dear Eric,

  Tonight was a crazy night, but it was an honest night. When Ericka approached me, the last thing I expected to be told was that my brother had stolen from me. It hurts, and all I can do is hope for the better. Right now, you are outside talking to Alex, telling the woman you love a scary and messy secret, and I can only imagine the things you must be feeling. I respect you for that, for being brave enough to tell the truth.

  Earlier, when I first found out, I told Jae to take my last gold necklace, and hide it somewhere. I’ve never been a materialistic person on a large scale. Many of the more valuable things I have carry sentimental value more than monetary value.

  After our talk, I could see how horrible you felt, and everything we said remains. You will always be valued beyond any measure of money to me, and aside from that, you as a person are so much better than your demons.

  I wanted to share with you why the things you stole from me mean so much to me, so that you can understand what I have to say next.

  The gold ring with the sapphire middle was given to me by David. He did so many things wrong in my marriage to him, but one thing he did right was that ring. He bought it just after he’d gotten out of the Air Force boot camp. He was on leave, and he surprised me when we stopped by a jeweler.

  He came out with a tiny box. He was beaming, and I mean literally beaming. His eyes were bright and full of love and kindness and a giving spirit. It was the first time he had ever bought me (or any woman for that matter) a ring all on his own.

  He’d picked it out, and secretly gotten my ring size as well. Even though we are getting divorced and many bitter feelings remain, when I look at that ring; when I hold it, it reminds me of that day. The day when David loved me as a woman ought to be loved.

  The small diamond ring that you took belonged to your Dad. He gave it to my Mom the day they got engaged, and it was the first piece of nice jewelry my Mom had ever received. She told me she had cried tears of joy, and asked Dad in disbelief if it was a real diamond. It was a moment of happiness shared between our parents. A fleeting moment held in time by a symbol; by that ring.

  Years later, David would stand in his parent’s driveway and hold it in the sun, it’s tiny diamond glinting brightly. It wasn’t a giant expensive rock, but he held it out towards me with a giant heart. He told me how he promised to love me, and our child that was on the way.

  He promised to do better than the man who had given the ring before him. He told me everything he loved about me; my gentleness that I show in private, my giving side, my intelligence, my patience, and most of all, my understanding. No one had ever told me those things. When I wear that ring, I am reminded that I am lovable, and that others are capable of love.

  The physical form of a gift can make us remember that we are loved. . . a memory where in that one moment, everything was perfect. It can be easy to forget those memories with our fallible human brains. So, as you can see, the jewelry carries much more value to me than the $80 you got for it at the pawn shop.

  To put things into perspective, you mean so much more to me than even the jewelry does. I have the memories, and yes, I’d like to have the physical rings back as well, but I should tell you there was one thing you missed.

  Hanging from a hook was my gold heart necklace and chain. It’s light, and not worth much at all, and maybe that was the reason you didn’t take it. Or maybe it was too obviously hanging there, and you assumed I’d miss it.

  Either way, that necklace means more to me than any of my rings, even though its value is less.

  Aunt Jesse bought it for me the Christmas I was 9 years old. She has always been someone I looked up to, a comfort to me in many ways. However, children aren’t really the best recipients for fine jewelry, and over the years it would often become misplaced.

  Ironically, it has always come back to me. When I felt alone, afraid, or sad, I’d take it from whatever hiding sp
ot I had it in, and hold it, sometimes putting it on, like a protective amulet.

  You see, some items are worth more than money, because they are given in love. That love can bind to that object and give a person comfort when they need it the most, and as fate would have it, this necklace is in the shape of a heart.

  As I got older, it only grew in sentiment to me, especially when Aunt Jesse took me in when I could no longer stand living in the hell our parent’s home had become. It has been with me through the abuse, and through the growing pains of becoming a woman.

  It often has glittered on my neck through church services and hung there on a few of my first dates. It was there when I fell in love for the first time, and there when I got cheated on, when I lost my home, and when I got it back again.

  It was there when I gave birth to my son and wondered if he’d be strong enough to survive under all those tubes and wires in the NICU. It was even there when Leslie died, when my Dad died, and when Grandpa Blue’s cancer stole his last breath, taking the only man I ever truly trusted.

  And now it’s here through this. You might be wondering what the point of all this is.

  Well, the point is, it won’t be here much longer. It won’t be around to see me get married again, or to watch me finally divorce David, or to see Michael graduate from school, or any of the other milestones I may reach in the future.

  You may be confused, since you didn’t steal the little heart pendant, and it was the one thing you left. Well, when Jae asked me what she should do with it, where to hide it from you, I thought a while, a small voice telling me that the journey the pendant has taken with me has come to an end, because the pendant has a new person to protect.

  A new person to remind that love is the greatest force of all. To shine its little gold heart into yours, and to remind you every day that you can always overcome, and to reconnect you to your humanity. To remind you that you are loved unconditionally, and that change is only a choice away.

  Now, you can imagine when I told this to Jae, she looked shocked, and said I should give you something less meaningful to me, and it would still have the same effect.

  But you remember how I told you that items of sentiment can collect love? As I’ve told you, this necklace holds the longest amount of love, hope, and overcoming hardship of all my possessions. So, I am giving it to you. It is yours, forever and always. And yes, you could lose your way again.

  You could pawn it, or sell it, or leave it lost and forgotten in the bottom of a drawer. . . but something tells me you won’t. And if you do, I have faith that the little golden heart will always find its way, and show up right where it’s meant to be, just like it always has.

  It took 20 years for it to travel to you, and maybe that’s where it was meant to go from the start. Who knows? All I know is that this feels right, and maybe someday, you will have someone who will need it just as much as you do now.

  May it give you the comfort and hope it has always given me.

  All My Love, Anna.

  Chapter 42: The Revelation

  Change happens in ways we don’t expect, in retrospect, I can finally answer the question, “. . . is evil born? Or is it made?” Personally, I don’t think it’s either. Evil is chosen, just as Love is chosen.

  Love brings us back from the depths of despair. Hope shining before us like a small glimmer in the darkness. The smallest shimmer can lead us into a path of self-truth, freeing us from what once seemed inescapable.

  My own life path is still just beginning. The early years of my life were often filled with sorrow, loneliness, and harsh moments that made me feel like I didn’t want to live to see the next sunrise.

  I, like many, considered losing hope, considered letting the darkness take me in whatever form it might. Addiction, depression, suicide, self-loathing, bitterness, anger.

  It was me who had to decide that wasn’t my path. From a very young age, I was given the gift of Hope. I wasn’t sent here, born into this world alone. None of us are, though at times it may feel that way.

  We each have an inner compass, the all-encompassing love that is the very spark of our breath. The God spark if you will. Some of my first teachers were my parents, my siblings, my schoolteachers, church leaders, and even strangers I have interacted with. They have been the people, who in one form or another, have shaped the message I was meant to bring.

  As a little girl, I heard a story about a boy who sat beneath his Mother as she embroidered a cloth, rocking and humming in her chair, while he played at her feet with his toys. Looking up, he was amazed to see what a mess she appeared to be making of her work.

  “Mother!” He exclaimed, “What a mess you are making! There are threads going every which-way! I thought you were making a beautiful picture, not all those horrid threads, knotted up in a mess!”

  He was very upset, because she’d promised to make him a beautiful forest scene to hang on his bedroom wall. His Mother could see how upset he was, and slowed her rocking, smiling gently at him.

  “Son, if only you would get up from the floor, and come and see from my point of view, you would understand.”

  So, the boy got up, and peered over his Mother’s shoulder. Sure enough, a beautiful forest was taking shape. Pine trees deep and green, swallows of the brightest blue, and yellow sunflowers were beginning to take shape on the cloth stretched on her loom.

  The boy smiled at his Mother, understanding for the first time, that perspective is everything.

  Like the boy, I too often have looked around at the messes in my life and allowed my own blindness to hold me in a place I was so desperately trying to escape.

  Many lessons later, I’m learning to look within myself, peering over the shoulder of God, to see what He sees through Spiritual eyes, rather than what is visible to my human eyes. Even the ancient Scriptures tell us that our ways are not His ways.

  I truly believe that coming closer to the Light is a choice. God never moves, the Light never changes. It is we who change, who learn, and who must choose to grow outside of our own reality.

  I think the most poignant lesson that I have taken from my experiences is that there will be many teachers. Some who teach us who we are, and others who will teach us who we are not.

  The lessons that sting are no less valuable than the lessons that make us smile. Cracking the code to this Earth experience is unique for each of us. Like snowflakes, no two of us are alike. Being made of the same substance, our connections and intricate path of decision are aligned with who we choose to be.

  Some people might scoff at that statement and say: “You’re crazy! We are given the life we are given, some of us are bad, some good, some of us are lucky, others are cursed, and that’s that.”

  I don’t believe it. I reject the idea of unchangeable fate. As the prophet Jeremiah said: “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you . . .” (KJV Jeremiah 1:5)

  Pointing to the glaring truth that we are not here by accident, but rather sent here on purpose to navigate Earthly experiences. Be it sickness, health, abuse, love, and everything in-between.

  The experiences are meant to test us. Catalysts to propel us towards a greater mission of expressing who we are.

  As in 1 Corinthians 13:12: (KJV) “For now we see through a glass, darkly; . . .”

  Life is a mixed bag of experiences and we are blessed with free will that allows us to choose how we will react. Will we be filled with bitterness, or will we be filled with kindness? Will we see Love in our darkest hours, or will we see hopelessness? Will we overcome, or will we fail?

  The choice is up to each of us. There is no such thing as a curse that can’t be broken and you needn’t look anywhere but inside yourself to find that perfect spark, to find everything you need.

  Recently, I’ve read a copy of Dr. Wayne Dyer’s book, Wishes Fulfilled.

  After years of my own Spiritual Awakening, it hit me all over again. I’d missed a message that had been so clearly screaming my name since I was old enough to que
stion the ideas that were impressed upon me by the souls in my reality.

  I’d missed understanding the wisdom that was held in the phrase, I Am what I Am. I’d missed that all along I’d had the power to be whoever I chose, because of the infinite love that resided within me.

  I let others squash my Light with their oppression and fear, but in truth, it was ME who chose to adapt to their ideas, feed their fears, and develop my own fear in recompense.

  Now, I finally get the message. Seeds that were planted by love, that showed me it is MYSELF who has the power to shape my world, good or bad. I cannot control the path of others. I don’t have a say so in what happens to the people around me, even the people I love. I only have the power to change myself. To change my reactions to the events that I encounter.

  I may not be able to control that the person in line behind me at the grocery store shoves me out of their way, but in that moment, I have a choice of how I will allow that experience to shape me. I can’t control if some large corporation dumps garbage into the water supply, poisons my drinking water and in turn I develop a terminal illness. I can only control how I choose to see the events that transpire because I became ill.

  Will I allow myself to inspire love, advancement of healing, and possibly touch the lives of hundreds? Or will I die bitter and hateful, pissed off that I was “unlucky,” to have drank that stupid water?

  The beautiful thing is that the choice is mine, just as the choices in your own life are your own. Did you ever want to be more confident? So be it. Have you ever wanted to be better at sports, or understand quantum theory? So be it. Have you ever wanted to just be happy, working your nine to five, enjoying your babies, loving your modest home and enjoying a hobby on the weekend? So be it.

  You have the power; you have the choice.