Yesterday was a strange day. I said goodbye for a while to some important people.
I had a wonderful visit with my grandma, but in the background my grandpa ignored me. He acted like a child and yelled at us to leave the room because he didn’t want to hear us.
My grandma said he was sad I was leaving. But I don’t feel like I’m leaving. I’ll be back in October and at Christmas. I don’t even see most people here in CT that often. Maybe once a month.
We’ll fast forward to me getting into my car to leave.
My grandpa: why are you advertising that $h!th@l€ country?
Me: excuse me?
And he went on a rant cursing and swearing about how Malta ruined me (and how it was run by the mafia which was keeping immigrants when it should send them back to where they came from. Then yelled at me for advertising the mafia and I lost track how many times he cursed me and Malta) and how I never should have left CT. Then he yelled at me and called me an idiot. Said I didn’t learn anything in college and I should probably go back so I can get a real job. Called me a whole bunch of nasty stuff that thank God I know are ridiculous!
Now I have grown up with the kindest father ever. Never ever in a million years would my dad ever call me an idiot or swear at me or complain about my past decisions. I was dumbfounded. Told him goodbye and left.
Then I had a thought. He is 90 years old and completely childish and overreacting. So I put myself in his shoes.
To him, leaving town means you couldn’t make it where you grew up. To him you stay near family til you die. To him you don’t leave your parents til you’re married. To him you’re only a success if you marry, buy a house, have kids, and save for retirement. And it’s not just my grandpa who thinks like this. I even had a first date where the guy, who clearly didn’t get me, told me I needed all that. There was no second date because I know that’s what the world says I need. But it just is not how God has led my life at the moment. Maybe someday But not now. To them being a nanny is a job for and yes I quote. “A job for immigrants.”
But I was raised to believe that none of it matters. None of those things are important in the long run.
Experiences are important to me. Traveling and seeing the world. Learning cultures. Meeting people. Making friends who become like family. People are what is important to me and to God.
You can’t take your house or spouse with you when you die. But how you treat others can live on.
What’s important is did I love everyone put in my path the way God does?
Did I make a difference in someone’s life?
Did I encourage someone today?
Did I make someone feel seen and heard?
Was I patient? Was I kind?
Did I carry peace into that conflict?
To my grandpa none of that is important and it breaks my heart. I cry because I don’t know how he got so angry and bitter. Everyone says he’s always been like that. He’s a hard worker and always provided for his family. But No one can stand the things that come out of his mouth. It’s ridiculous and I obviously know everything he said about me is ridiculous.
I know I’m not an idiot.
I know I’m not wasting my life.
I know I’ve done a lot of amazing stuff with my life.
I am who God says I am not who my grandpa says I am.
That means I’m a much loved child of God. I’m forgiven. Not forsaken. I am free. Nothing I can do can ever make God love me less. Nothing I can do can ever make him love me more.
This encounter had me thinking. There are people who hear stuff like this from loved ones all the time. They feel like they’ll never measure up because they believe the lies people tell them.
I guess I’m writing this because I want people to know that when they hear things like this they need to know they are lies. Malta did not ruin me. Florida did not ruin me. I ruined myself. I ignored signs of illness. I got stressed. Had much too high expectations. Lost patience. And I gave up. I lost my will to fight. Until the seizure. But I snapped out of it. It took a long time to get rid of the negative self talk. A long time to believe God has good plans for my life. A long time to physically heal. But I am healed. I know the signs of low electrolytes. I can eat salt and drink water and take care of myself. I can deal with stress differently now. I truly feel called to return to Florida. I feel peace. I’m a little scared, but mostly I know this is the right thing to do. Im trusting God will take care of me and continue to guide my steps. Im trusting God has plans I can’t see. Florida has been a dream since I was 14 years old. Doesn’t God give us the desires of our hearts?
But it’s hard to explain to family who doesn’t trust God will take care of me.
I can cling to the truth. But for all the doubters. Isn’t God big enough? Won’t He take care of me?
I’m praying they see God the way I see him. Big enough to trust.
God is the God of second chances, the healer, and the God of redemption.
I believe there is a reason God is bringing me back to Florida. He needs to finish what he started. He has plans to prosper me and not to harm me. He has promises to be fulfilled.
I wish my grandpa could understand all of that. I wish he believed God could do all that. I wish he wasn’t so negative and skeptical. I wish he tried to be a better person.
I didn’t know what else to do so after I called my dad and vented and thanked him for being a kind father I prayed for him and I laughed at his ridiculous lies. What else is there to do?