I was born in a small Texas town the same year that Israel became a
nation again. There were six children, and we were poor. I didn't know
that back then because I never ventured out of my neighborhood. I
thought the way I lived my life was the way everyone lived their lives.
One day I learned that was not the case. I had gone across the street
to visit my young friend and I happened to walk in at a very
inopportune time. She was being punished for something wrong she had
said and her father took her to her room with belt in hand and closed
the door. I never heard a sound. She came out moments later with red,
teary eyes and we went off to play. That scene was astonishing to me.

It was never like that in my house. It was never quiet, and punishments
came hard. There was always lots of yelling and screaming. Sometimes
the wounds and scars that take the longest to heal are those that are
within. Sometimes I was hit with a belt, sometimes with a fist. A
couple times I was quite nearly strangled. I knew that there were times
when my father told me he would kill me, that he meant it. It was
during those times that I would go to stay with an older sister who had
married and moved away, or visit an aunt in another town. I grew up in
fear. All of us did. But what he did to some of the others is not even
proper to mention. It is shameful. We all grew up trying to cope with
the scars in our own way, some denying anything ever even happened;
others unable to cope much at all; especially in the area of close
relationships.

As an adult, I found myself full of rage. Even though I had married
(several times), and was no longer at home with "daddy", still I was
filled with an uncontrollable rage that poisoned everything I did and
everyone I touched. My life was a mess. Finally, when I was in my
twenties, I surrendered my life to the Lord. My life began to change; I
became a different person. One Sunday morning in a strange church, the
pastor called me out and asked me to come see him afterwards - - that
God had given him a message just for me! Just for me! How could he have
possibly known that very morning 1 had asked God to give me a message,
that rather than talk to the entire congregation, He would talk just to
me! Afterwards, I could hardly get to the front fast enough. What that
pastor told me changed my life, because what he said made me know that
God is real and God had heard my cries. He said,"1 don't know you, and
1 don't know what you have been through in your life, but God says if
you will just forgive your father, you will have peace." That was all.
One sentence and my whole life was summed up, the issue laid out on the
table - - and I had a decision to make.

I resolved that day to forgive all that my father had done to me; all
the names he had called me, all the beatings,all the inappropriate behavior that a
father should not have with his little girl. That pastor was right. I
found the most incredible peace 1 have ever known. I began to pray for
my father - - daily. One year turned into two, two turned into three.
Decades went by and no matter who approached my father about Christ, he
would forcefully, defiantly, angrily proclaim, "No!" He would have none
of it! After all, he would say, Christ preferred the Jews! Over the
years, I came to understand that daddy was tormented, even demonized.
One night when I was visiting and sleeping at home, I got up in the
middle of the night and noticed his bathroom light was on. Hours later
when I awakened again, it was still on. So he had not been up earlier but
rather was sleeping with the bathroom light on, just like a little
child! The next morning when I asked Mother about it she told me he
often had nightmares. I began to question other family members about
his childhood and found that he had been beaten just the same as he had
beaten me! I found that remarkable! I realized that the same devil that
had used his daddy to torment him had done the same to me.

Somehow I felt a strong kinship with him and began to take pity on him.
I knew exactly how he felt! My prayers for him intensified and. I would
always picture him on his knees with his hands raised in surrender to
God. But the years passed and sometimes I would finally resolve to pray
no more for him. Sometimes I was so frustrated with him that I would
actually ask God to just do with him as He pleased. In the end, daddy
was in the hospital nearing the end of his life. He was 90 years old
and so ill that no one was expecting him to live. I looked at him
wrapped up in a sheet and thought he looked as though he was in a
shroud and I was sure he now only weighed less than 100 pounds. Still,
his anger raged on and even the doctors and nurses began to avoid going
to his room. What could this frail little man who could not even get out of bed do to anyone,
and yet he was still able to provoke such fear! I was at work one
afternoon when a sister had called to tell me they had finished their
visit with him and once again approached him about Christ. One last
time he refused. They were traveling back home.

As I hung up the phone, I was so disheartened I wanted to cry. And then
I heard a still small voice, "Today is the day of salvation!" There was
no mistake about it, that was God's voice; that was my Lord speaking! I
cleared my desk and left work early and drove to the hospital. For 30
years I had prayed and waited for this moment. The weather was
beautiful and I could clearly hear Him all the way, "today is the day
of salvation!" Then I heard Him say one more thing that was rather
funny, "Tell him to put his teeth in!" I didn't realize how important
that was until later. I arrived at the hospital and walked into his
room. I asked him to put his teeth in and that I wanted to talk with
him about something. I began by telling him that me, Mother and several
of his other children had all given our lives to Christ and that we
weren't going to heaven without him! That's right, I wasn't giving him
any choice in the matter. "We simply could not go without him and I
wasn't leaving until he said yes." I then asked him if he wanted to
accept Jesus Christ as his Lord and Savior. But instead of fighting me,
he simply replied "Yes." Yes? Did daddy just say 'yes'?

"Okay daddy, I'm going to lead you in a simple prayer and I want you to
pray it with all your heart." After we prayed and he accepted Jesus,
the Lord caused me to remember all the pain he had suffered as a child.
Then I led him in another prayer to forgive all those who had ever hurt
him. Afterwards, he said that he had never known such peace as he felt
that moment. Now I understood why I had to ask him to put his teeth in!
I would never have been able to understand a word he said had God not
instructed me as He did. For some reason, I felt all that was still not
enough. I told daddy there was more. I told him that God was also a
healing God and that He wanted him to be well. I prayed again, this
time for an infilling of the Holy Spirit and the healing anointing of
God to make him whole. Moments later a relative brought my mother into
the room. He grabbed her hand and sweetly said, "Mamie, I want to say
that I'm sorry for all the years of hurt that I have caused." There are
no words to express what I felt at that moment. Daddy was never one to
apologize for anything! Such words and such behavior were totally
foreign to him! I did not think there was a sweeter moment on earth.

Days later, I went back to the hospital to visit him but his room was
empty! I panicked! Where was he?!!! Did he die? I ran to the nurse's
station and learned that the doctors could not find anything wrong with
him and had released him to go back to the nursing home. I raced to the
nursing home to find that. he was no longer there! When he returned
from the hospital, after examining him, they could imd no reason to
keep him and so they sent him home! My car could not go fast enough as
I raced home. I entered the house and found daddy sitting at the dining
room table, dressed to a tee, with his golf cap and argyle socks and
sweater to match. He told me how they could find nothing wrong with him
and I stared at him with my mouth gaping open and eyes as wide as
saucers! After we talked for a while, he got up and pushing his little
walker with tennis balls attached to the bottom for easy scooting, he
walked me to my car. Never give up. It does not matter how hardened
their heart is, it does not matter how much time passes, God is still
able.

Never give up. Who knows, one day maybe it will be that broken little
boy whose heart got fixed up and put back together again who will usher
.me into the-presence  of the King. And that will the sweetest moment
ever!