One Heart at a Time

by Delilah

  It was Matt’s accident and the horrific pain that tore my heart out each day thereafter that led me on my spiritual journey. It was his passing that ultimately led me to West Seattle Free Methodist Church, and then to my faith in the Lord.

  Listening to this particular two-part sermon on God’s will, I went through a frustrating time. I tried to convince myself that Pastor Mike was mistaken. That there was no cosmic plan or design to the people I encountered each day. It was unthinkable that each person was placed in my path on purpose; even more impossible to grasp was this notion that I was to respond to them with real love. I’m a very friendly person, and I’ve always been affectionate and demonstrative—to the people I like. It was the notion that I was to love those I didn’t like that I couldn’t stop thinking about.

  Did God really want me to love my ex-husband, who had walked out of our lives as blithely as he had walked in? Did God really want me to love those who were just unlikable? The annoying kid who raised his hand in an obnoxious way, waving it around, hoping the teacher would call on him? “Shut up, Terry,” my internal voice would say each time he awkwardly thrust his fleshy hand upward, and mentally I would slap it down. He annoyed me; I have no clue why, but he did. So do a lot of people. Maybe you have people who annoy you, disappoint you, dislike you—neighbors who constantly fight and whose dog barks all night, people who pretend to care but stab you in the back the first chance they get. Ex-lovers who talk about you in disparaging ways, ex-friends who broke up with you and didn’t offer an explanation.

  People who listen to my show or meet me at an appearance, who write to me on social media or to the radio stations, think I’m always nice, always patient, always soft-spoken. I’m not. At all. I have a hard time forgiving people who have hurt me or wronged me, a hard time putting up with people who are ignorant or foolish. Who demand they be listened to and respected, but do not extend that courtesy to anyone who disagrees with them. I get annoyed and mentally slap their hand or the back of their head.

  But what if Pastor Mike was right? How do you love someone you hate? Someone who has harmed you to the core of your being? Someone who is just not likable?

  Well, to begin with, I had to learn what God means when He says to love our enemies. To forgive those who persecute us. It is impossible to love someone who has wounded you until you can forgive them. And it is impossible to forgive someone who has wronged you until you understand the nature of forgiveness in God’s eyes.

  First, you must get honest and define why someone is your enemy. And that means getting real about what happened. The saying “We are only as sick as our secrets” comes into play once again. Find someone safe, a pastor or a counselor or a best friend, and share the secrets. If you can’t speak them to anyone, write it down. Write what happened to you, and as you write, more will come to you. Do not write it down to hurt someone else, or to wound the person who wounded you. Write it down to get it out of your head. If you don’t get it out of your head, you will eventually go out of your head.

  As you write your story, own it, and eventually share it, the pain loses its power over you. You can stop being the victim and become the victorious. Through sharing, you will find others who have similar experiences, and together you can strengthen one another and learn to walk in the light instead of hiding in darkened shadows. I have heard that most addictions and many mental illnesses have their root in these hidden secrets from our past. That our addictive behaviors are often self-medicating to try to escape the pain of secrets we feel are too dark to share.

  Once the pain has lost its power over you, then you take the next step—to forgive the person or institution that wronged you. How? It’s simple, but not easy. Forgiveness does not mean you deny the abuse or the injustice, and it does not mean you accept the abuse or the injustice as acceptable behavior. To forgive doesn’t mean you accept some of what happened or compare your story to someone else’s story. A lot of people I know, when they begin the healing journey, they compare or contrast their experience to others’ and say, “Well, I guess my pain wasn’t so bad. You had it a lot worse.” You will always meet people who had it worse, and people who suffered much less than you did; it doesn’t matter. Your pain is your pain, your story is your story. Own it but don’t make excuses for the person who wronged you, and don’t convince yourself what you experienced was in any way acceptable or okay.

  When it comes to the actual act of forgiveness, what has worked for me is to envision a big basket full of pain, anger, and wounds in my arms. In my mind’s eye, I place this basket full of pain labeled “uncollected debts” into God’s lap. And any time I start to feel that rage rising up inside, I mentally and prayerfully place it back into God’s hands.

  When I first started doing this exercise, I would envision God pummeling those who had wronged me. I fantasized about God’s wrath being poured out like hot oil upon their heads. But as time passes and I see these same people suffering, I start to feel compassion, even sorrow, for them. The anger that once weighed me down turns to prayers that God will lift them up and heal them. That is how God works to redeem our pain and suffering into a miraculous shift of strength and compassion.

  Now that your arms have been emptied of the uncollected debts, anger, and pain, you are ready to use them for a greater purpose. You’ve made room to fill those arms with people who come into your life. Now that you have poured the bitterness out of your soul upon the ground of God’s mercy, you are ready to be filled with the purpose you were designed for.

  And you will indeed be on your way to answering those two questions Pastor Mike has set before us: What did you do with God, and what did you do with the people He placed in your life? The answer may simply be that you used one to love the other.

  This book is my story. Just a handful of stories, actually. There are plenty more where these came from. But I handpicked a few that illustrate a bit of my journey to now, how I got where I am, who influenced me (whether for bad or good, but always for growth), and how my faith in God was made stronger through it all. When I look back, I can see the divine knitting together of these moments in my life, people in my life, lessons in my life. And if you listen to me on air, hearing a bit of wisdom come from my lips, well, now you know where it comes from. It comes from living, it comes from loving and learning; it comes from failing and falling, and it often has come from picking myself up off the ground.

  I’ve lost a great deal in my life. I’ve lost the lives of people I cherished, and I’ve lost the lives of people with whom I didn’t get to bind old wounds. I’ve lost husbands, I’ve lost friends, I’ve lost wayward children. I’ve lost job after job after job. I’ve seen addiction destroy lives, rip families apart. I’ve seen children die of hunger. I’ve seen people die from painful, horrible diseases in third-world countries. I’ve seen children torn from abusive family situations and put into other abusive homes. I’ve been witness to some pretty harsh things in life. It’s enough to question how a God of the universe can exist. With all this trouble in the world, what’s the point?

  I want you to know this: the God of the universe is why you are here on this earth at this moment. The things of this world may pass away, but He is forever. Your loved ones may pass away like mine have, but they pass right back into the arms of their Creator, and only we are left to grieve. Those beautiful African children I cry for and pray over, when they die in my arms, I know their perfect souls go on to dance in heaven.

  There may not be a win to counter every loss or hardship we experience in life, but there is always a comeback. Don’t count your losses in life—count your comebacks. There is a verse in the Bible that says, “The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you.” By this alone, you can take comfort in knowing your path has already been paved and your comebacks have already been designed. We were not created for failure… let that sink into your heart for a minute. Every life, short as it may be, has a purpose on this planet. And every person you encounter on this planet probably has
a purpose in your life.

  As long as you’re living and breathing, let’s amend Pastor Mike’s second question to ask, “What can you do with the people God has placed in your life going forward?” You can’t change the past, but you can take hold of your future. You can love people, you can forgive them—we’ve gone over that. Have you also considered that God places people in your life to do something for you? Perhaps to love you, to teach you something… perhaps to grow your patience. Not everyone we meet is meant to be someone we adore, let’s get real. Perhaps some people are meant to help us learn a lesson, albeit a painful one. I learned several hard lessons from my marriage to my ex-husband George, but I also got the gift of my amazing firstborn son, and a seed of faith in the divine planted in my heart on the day of his birth. Beauty for ashes.

  CONCLUSION

  A lot has changed since I was that little girl who begged my mom to sew a coat for Kathy at the bus stop, since I was that fourth-grade girl who wanted to help orphans in Vietnam. My world has gotten a lot bigger since then. I’ve made a lot of foolish choices, and I’ve been the victim of other people’s foolish choices, too. But in reality, those choices all led me down a path of understanding the human frailties that God puts in front of me each day. It’s allowed me to find the good in people, even when they’ve done bad things. It’s allowed me to be a sounding board for people in all different walks of life. I’ve come to accept who I am, what I’ve done; I’ve owned my mistakes and know for a fact I’ll have to own more mistakes yet to be made.

  I have been in radio making connections with people for the better part of my life. I’ve shared bits and pieces of my story on air, and much more off the air. But the blessing for me has been hearing the stories from people who call in. I hear their hearts, and it changes mine. I’ve been fortunate enough to let some of their words sink in and shift my perspective. It’s been a healing therapy for me to listen to stories and reciprocate by sharing my own experiences. Unfortunately, most of these extended caller conversations happen later on and never get broadcast.

  My point is these circular conversations and stories are healthy; the connections that are made, even during a brief call with a stranger, in my case, can be life-changing. Have you ever had an aha moment when someone says something so simple but so profound? It’s kind of like that. You only get those moments when you share your story with someone who can share back.

  This life is hard. There is a lot going on in the world today that makes it even harder. And I believe that’s why now, more than ever, we need to be sounding boards for each other. Maybe that looks like joining or organizing a parents’ group, a support group, a church group, a book club, a walking club, a volunteer organization… Maybe that looks like inviting a friend who may be down and out for coffee and a vent session. My heart is for making connections with people, because as you’ve read in my stories, you never know how far one of those connections might take you.

  It’s all planned, my friends. Your stories, your comebacks, and your connections with people. What it comes down to now is simply opening your heart to all of the possibilities God has in store for you. I believe in you. I believe I would like to give you a great big hug and say, “You got this.” I believe your journey, your stories, your battle scars, and your enduring love are uniquely appointed to help change this world for good, one heart at a time. It starts with yours…

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I’d like to express my gratitude to the many people who saw me through this book, to all those who provided support, talked things over, read, wrote, offered comments, allowed me to use their stories, and assisted in the editing, proofreading, and design.

  My sister, friend, and digital content director, DeAnna Luke, for her insights, memories, and creative input. Her sleuthing skills and passion for the historical truth of our family tree and her sense of humor are always spot-on. Although we have the same DNA, our experiences and relationships within our family were and are vastly different. I know that it was challenging for her to read many of these stories, as she is fiercely protective of not only the family tree, but the nuts that have fallen from it!

  Melissa Cudworth and Francine LaSala for their valuable input, and for reading, rereading, probing, and asking good questions, helping me to dig deeper and share more from the heart. Melissa, especially, for her superior organizational skills, which helped to turn my many stories into something that resembles a book!

  Kraig Kitchin for being consistent, diligent, and kind when he harps at me to get stories and chapters completed, even if the project was two years over the original deadline!

  My thanks to RosettaBooks CEO Arthur Klebanoff, for his tremendous support, as well as Editorial Director Roger Cooper, whose creative spirit greeted me and showed me how welcome authors are at RosettaBooks. As well, my thanks to Hannah Bennett, associate publisher, who shepherded this book through many iterations, and to Chuck Lisberger for introducing me to so many nice people at RosettaBooks.

  The people of Africa, my village in Ghana, where I really learned what matters in life, and what is just stuff. My thanks to the Point Hope, Ghana, team; Adam, Tutu, Ida, and all others who have accepted this obruni as part of their tribe. To Executive Director Jan Haynes and all Point Hope volunteers for your selfless giving, inexhaustible energies, and lending your voices to the voiceless.

  My village here in America, the people who work with me, live with me, care for my kids and my animals, and eat at my table. Kimmy, Joni, Wendi, Dee Dee, Ryan, AlHassan, Joy, Chip, Tim, and dozens of others who bring me such laughter and joy.

  To my children, bio, adopted, step, foster, grand, and all who have found their way to my life and stayed for weeks or months… the ones who have grown and are now sharing their own stories and memories with their children, and the ones who are still in the mama bear’s den, finding their strengths, talents, and voices. And especially my son Sammy, who now soars and flies with the angels.

  Paul, my wonderful husband, who is happy to stand in the shadow and watch me soar, who has glued back all the broken pieces from my past failed marriages and allowed me to be who I am without trying to change, control or diminish my passions.

  To God. My Savior, my redeemer, my everything. For Your unfailing love and Your mercies, which are new every morning!

  My arrival—February 15, 1960. Held by my father.

  An early family portrait with my parents and brother, Matthew—sixteen months older than me.

  Matt and me with my grandmother, Eula McGowne (Gramma Mac). She was a huge influence in my life.

  Our pet sheep, Robie Dobie, who used to pull me around in a cart. I have always LOVED animals!

  This is the old rented farmhouse we lived in until I was ten. My parents repaired the old lathe and plaster walls by mixing oatmeal into paint. They also painted the outside. I have such fond memories of this house.

  A birthday gathering for my grandfather, Bud McGowne (Grammpa Mac). It’s a rare photo with my mom in it, as she was usually taking the pictures. Gramma and my siblings, Matt, DeAnna, and Timothy too.

  Another birthday celebration. Gramma Mac always brought a gift for everyone.

  Me on “Old Joe.” My equine love started at a young age.

  KDUN, the voice of Dune Country. My first radio job, in Reedsport, Oregon.

  The only family portrait we have, from a free sitting I won in 1978, the year I graduated high school. DeAnna, Matthew, and me in back; Timothy and Dad second row; Mom in front.

  My parents in June of 1982.

  Our last sibling gathering before we lost Matt and Anne in the plane crash. Everyone came to Seattle to visit in August 1984. I was eight months pregnant with Isaiah (Sonny). Tim, me, DeAnna, Anne, and Matt.

  Gramma Mac, me, and Mom holding her first grandchild, Isaiah, who was almost immediately known as Sonny, a nickname his dad gave him.

  Hosting the New Year’s Eve celebration at the Space Needle, Seattle—December 31, 1985.

  Robin Hood and Ma
id Marian (Sonny and me). At this point I was a single mother living in Boston.

  Sonny and me in Boston in 1991, spending time with friends.

  Now a single mother of eight! Isaiah, Emmanuelle, and Trey in back. Zachariah, me, Shaylah, and Tanginique in front. Thomas K on my lap.

  Mercy and Willette in Buduburam, Ghana, who became my daughters, Angel and Blessing, in the US.

  Sonny’s graduation from the Police Academy. Fortunately his father, George Harris, was able to attend.

  The snow adventure that preceded the invitation to The African Children’s Choir to join us for lunch at the farm. Shaylah, me, Thomas, my granddaughter Jayla, and our host, Zachariah.

  My Bridget and Sammy in Ghana, before I brought them home to their forever family.

  Sammy at home with me, Mama Bear, and his forever family in the US.

  Gathering water with the children in Ghana.

  Jan (“Mama Jan”) Haynes, our executive director of Point Hope.

  Children being fed in the Point Hope Nutrition Project.