The Faith Chronicles Part 5 – Favourites, preferring one child over another

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Hurt.

Anger.

Betrayal.

Faith felt a volcanic rush of pain pass through her. She was not her mother’s favourite. Though she was the freehanded one, the one who gave without thinking, the one who pitched in and made sure the bills were paid, the one who ensured her mother didn’t starve.

She was not the favourite.

The user was. The addict was. The mange was.

Her brother, who never paid a bill, who never returned a loan. The one who never contributed, the one who never bought a furniture or appliance to put in his mother’s house. The one who when her mother starved for months never gave her food, though he managed one of the largest wholesales in Jamaica.

In the story of the Prodigal Son, it was the one who sinned, who left, who neglected the family; it was he who was embraced, kissed and a feast kept in his honour. So why did she think it would be different for her.

The pain made her illogical, hard and unforgiving; but somehow, God was seeping logic in the cracks of her rationality. God left obvious clues that he was watching out for Faith, even if no one else was. He loved her, she was sure. The Holy Spirit in her gave her solace, but sometimes, the pain would shut him out.

As tears fell from her eyes, Faith felt more alone on this earth than she ever felt. For years, Faith never truly forgave her mother for choosing favourites, but God required it of her now. It was locked away in her subconscious never on the surface, but somehow never far from her mind.

Faith closed her eyes and prayed, “Oh God forgive me, and help me to release those who should be forgiven.” There might be hope for her yet.

What else could wreak more of a devastation on a child?

Nothing, absolutely nothing.

Copyright © 2015 · All Rights Reserved · Denise N. Fyffe

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The Faith Chronicles Part 4 – Denied, A brothers love

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People deceive themselves more than they deceive others.

She stood with an empty heart and a disenchanted spirit as her brother stood in front of her and lied to himself, more than he lied to her.

Faith knew what a brothers love should be like, but it wasn’t this. She had been robbed, cheated and disinherited.

All her life she lived as if she was alone and her only defender was herself. No one to protect her, except God. No true experience of unconditional love from a sibling. This, she thinks, must add to the explanation of why she kept people truly at arms distance.

She had suffered twenty years of neglect, robbery, disinterest and feigned reunions. Faith looked through him and only saw a rotten corpse, a user, an addict. For five years she lived her ‘Job experience’ and she was forced to orbit the same galaxy as he; hell was almost welcomed compared to this.

Christ dictated she love this corpse, but she could barely stand his presence. Years of him misusing their relationship had left her jaded.

God required forgiveness, begrudgingly Faith gave it. But everyday it was required and in some miraculous turn of events, it grew easier. She just didn’t have any expectations. She felt peace for her effort but the effort was required daily.

Every chance he got, he took from her food, money, stuff…mostly money, mostly food. He never gave back. He never invested in her. Only on her death bed did he begrudgingly assist and then required payment only weeks later. He invested more effort in Mr. Lotto than he did anything else.

Faith remember one morning sharing with her mother of how she dreamed about silver, a lot of old Jamaican silver coin. Off he went to Mr. Cashpot and Mr. Lotto; winning thousands of dollars but none ever made it home to his family by disassociation.

A user.

A mange.

An addict.

Faith looked to the heavens and craved a miracle from God, “God I asked you to come into my heart, my mind, my being; it seems that you are cleaning house. Forgive me father and I forgive and release my brother as well.”

Faith never knew brotherly love, but she had intimate knowledge of Christ’s love for her.

Copyright © 2015 · All Rights Reserved · Denise N. Fyffe

Poetess Denise N. Fyffe has worked as in Software Implementation for more than ten years and enjoys volunteering as a Counselor. She has transitioned to being a Jamaican blogger, ghostwriter, web content writer, internet writer, and researcher.