That Which the Locust Has Eaten

~More Memories...Receding Thunder, Gathering Perspective~

While my mother’s anger was not as dangerous as my father’s, her temper displayed itself more regularly. This was partially the result of personality, partially a by-product of her career as a stay-at-home mom. (We had more opportunities to witness her anger; and, in all fairness, any stay-at-home parent endures a great deal of frustration.) Often, in the face of her rising aggravation toward my younger sister and myself, I remember deliberately choosing to provoke my mother’s anger. Looking back now, I’m sure there was an element of attention-seeking in my ploy. Yet on many occasions I made a very conscious choice to draw my mother’s anger toward myself, and away from my sister. If I provoked her enough, our mother would storm into her bedroom, slam the door, and remain there for a while. And that was usually the end of it.

But over the years, my attempts to divert negative attention from my younger sister lessened substantially. Even during the period of time I sought to protect her from others, I tormented her myself. Before she was even out of diapers I did many unkind—sometimes downright cruel—things to my little sister.

I recently gave my sister a letter that included the following excerpt:

“At the age of three, I deliberately cracked a windshield with my forehead, simply because I didn’t want to leave Grandma’s house; you weren’t even born then. For years, everything angered me. But you know that better than most: nothing fueled my rage as well as you did. You still bear scars from where I’ve clawed at you, dug into you [both physically and emotionally]. I learned at a young age that it was unacceptable to spit on you, and the consequences of slapping and punching you were not generally worth the momentary satisfaction. But I could yell at you. Oh, how I could yell at you… I know you dreaded being left alone with me.

‘Don’t you ever lock me out of a room again! You can’t begin to imagine how bad I’ll hurt you the next time. I’ll kill you!’

I screamed down onto your face for fully ten minutes on that occasion, savoring every moment. I remember the cold doorknob I had dismantled to reach you, now clenched in my hand with heavy power; I probably brandished the screwdriver like a dagger at your belly. I can’t recall all the words I spewed at you—nothing inventive, I’m sure. But I didn’t need creative threats; I just needed to bear down on you with my malice. I lusted for the sight of fear crawling white across your eight-year-old face, watching your nose and lips grow thickly flush as tears built flimsy shields across your eyes. I craved the thrill, the rushing roar a predator feels in the fresh victim’s dying throbs. Vampires do exist: I have been one.”

My sister had not provoked me. With both of our parents gone that particular afternoon, she hoped for a little space, a little freedom…from me. So after school she took her pink backpack into our parents’ bedroom (the only room with locking doorknobs) to do her homework in peace. My rage was not justified. Yet I pounded on the door, screaming at her to unlock it, wrapped in a fury that convinced me her quiet actions were a challenge or a threat, and finally dismantled a doorknob to give vent to my rage and secure my authority. Once certain that my little sister would never consider such a ploy again, I calmly reassembled the doorknob and returned to my own homework. I had slaked my thirst. So I left the freshly mauled carcass bleeding in the corner of our parents’ bedroom.

In many ways, I was not my own. Whether I was born heir to the sins of my parents (generational sin), or had made my own pact, I don’t know. But I participated willingly in this hellish partnership from a very young age. The sin curse of anger that rode me demanded life; my younger sister’s life was easy and sweet. I paid what seemed to be the necessary price to receive the power of escape, of freedom. But I gained only bondage. And I inflicted great pain. Tremendous pain.

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I need you to have a balanced picture of my character as we move forward, dear reader. I am no saint; I am a fallen human being. If you find anything Good in me, remember that it is entirely the work of my Savior and Lord. My merits are not my own. My righteousness is entirely His grace. We serve such a beautiful God!

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My mother repented of her anger. She hated the way she found herself behaving. I still remember her opening her bedroom door time and time again with sad eyes, and often with tears still streaming down her face. She apologized each time. She fervently sought the Lord’s healing. And she has changed. My mother is a beautiful example of the redemptive power of Jesus Christ. I am honored and privileged to learn from her, to grow with her.

I have repented of my own anger. This does not mean I don’t find myself struggling with this emotion at times. The Holy Spirit has been walking me through my Lord’s “Anger-holics Anonymous program” ever since I first surrendered to him in 1997. It’s been a long journey—often slow and seemingly unfruitful. But those who have walked with me can see the enormous transformation God has done in this area of my life. I’m honored that his name can be glorified through my weakness, my choices. He is healing me! And he is healing my sister.

I have asked my younger sister’s forgiveness; she has forgiven me. But the road to building a healthy relationship is still long and painful. She is just now beginning to believe that I truly won’t fly into a rage over the slightest things. After seeking change and healing in this relationship for several years, I am finally beginning to become a big sister—in the way I could not be for such a very long time. (I look forward to sharing more about what I have learned from younger sisters later in our journey.) I cannot thank my Lord often enough for the precious gift of little sisters! I treasure those relationships more than I myself possibly could if I had never abused them so horribly.

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• My dear reader, have you yourself struggled with this same unholy pact? There are many, many reasons for anger…but when we allow that anger to consume us, our thoughts, words, and actions are never justified. And they always cause such deep wounds. As the Lord prompts you, and grants you the strength to do so, you can and should ask forgiveness of your Redeemer who loves you, and of those you have hurt (if possible). And DO NOT allow self-condemnation to overtake you, my friend. This is a process—often a long, and seemingly unfruitful one. Don’t worry: those who love you will forgive you. In whatever capacity the Lord allows, they will walk beside you through this process. With a loving smile, I joyfully welcome you to “Anger-holics Anonymous.” Let’s keep pressing in, shall we?

• My dear reader, do you carry wounds inflicted by the unholy pact of another? If so, please allow me to apologize here and now—on behalf of the one who hurt you, and on behalf of myself. I truly hope those who may have hurt you have asked for your forgiveness. We all want to hear a sincere “I’m sorry.” It means so much to know that someone realizes the damage of his or her actions. But sometimes the damage is accidental. And in the case of people who struggle with rage, often those who cause damage are too damaged themselves to see or acknowledge their guilt. So if you have not heard the words you need to hear, dear reader, please accept them from me. With tears in my eyes, please believe me when I say, “I am truly sorry for the pain that has been caused in your heart. I’m so sorry. To my sisters: please forgive me for any deliberate or accidental pain I have caused you. To everyone: please accept this apology in lieu of an apology from the one who has hurt you, and please forgive him or her.”

It’s often easier to forgive and move forward once someone asks for our forgiveness. But what happens if the ones who have hurt us most deeply never acknowledge the wrong of their words and actions? What if the repentant petition for forgiveness never comes?

Well, that requires a new level of forgiveness, my dear reader. We’ll explore that together next.

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As always, feel free to ask questions or discuss reactions. You are most welcome! I am continuing to pray for you.