Sowing Love Or Hatred

‘Give him a chance to love you.’

Image by Annelise Lords

“Your father wasn’t a good man. He wasn’t there for you and me. I had to provide everything for you. He was not a good father either,” Annette spewed out after hitting Denise in her face.

Her hatred continues as Denise backs away in fear, wiping tears away.

“He doesn’t remember us because he wanted me to have an abortion. I saved your miserable life!”

For the first 17 years of her life, that was all that Denise heard about her father. A man she had never met but was told that she was a mirror image of him every time her mother verbally, physically, and emotionally abused her. It was a payment for him breaking her mother’s heart. She prayed for God’s mercy and a way to escape the wrath, hatred, and rage Annette, her mother, carried in her heart for Donte, her father.

“God,” Denise prayed. “Forgive me for not loving a mother who couldn’t love her only child. Forgive me for hating her, but I need to release the hate she put in my heart.”

A voice in her heart said, “Find your own way. You might not like God’s way.”

Annette died on Denise’s 17th birthday.

She attends her mother’s funeral without tears, glancing around at all of the mourners. Many of whom she did not know. Checking herself for any emotion or remorse. She felt nothing, fighting to release tears that weren’t there. Denise prayed.

After the funeral, she went for a walk and returned home to hear her Aunt Helen accusing someone of killing her mother.

‘Where is my daughter?” A voice asked.

Her Aunt Helen snickered and taunted, “She hates you, Don. Annette and all of us made sure of that!”

Denise walked in to see a male photocopy of herself. He stared at her joyfully, walked over, and hugged her, saying, “I am happy to meet you, finally. Let’s escape this place of hatred to a home where happiness never leaves.”

Eager to get away and regain her sanity, Denise accompanied her father, convincing herself she had one year before independence at 18.

Life with him was the opposite of her mother’s. He didn’t say a bad word about her mother, as he showered her with love without questions.

He was a beloved high school Art Teacher. Everyone was kind to her. She became afraid and withdrew.

“Are you ok?” her father asked. “You haven’t been doing or saying much lately.”

For the first time in years, Denise smiled and shared, “I just need time to adjust.”

“Ok,” her father said, hugging her. “You are loved; never forget that.”

“Thank you, Sir,” she said.

“I am your father, “ he said, touching her cheek. “Not your teacher or your boss.”

“Ok, Dad,” she said for the first time.

Six months later, her father collapsed in the staffroom and had to be taken by ambulance to the hospital nearby. The entire community unites to take care of him and her.

“Why are you doing this for us?” She asked as one of the teachers, Mrs. Ruben, came to check on her.

Mrs. Ruben entered her father’s basement office, returned with a shoebox, handed it to her, and said, “He said if anything happens to him, I should give you this.”

Denise opened the shoe box. On the top was an envelope addressed to her. Her eyes caught her mother’s signature, which read, ‘Return to sender, person unknown.’

Seventeen postcards were addressed to her and returned to the sender with her mother’s signature. There were also many pictures of her accepting awards at school throughout the years. Pictures of her at various games she played. One shot stopped her heart, pulling the memories back. One night, while walking home late from the library, she was attacked, and someone knocked out her attacker.

She fled the scene, but she remembered seeing him lying on the pavement, his face bloodied. Other postcards with Christmas stamps that her mother also returned. Tears came down quickly, and she stared at Mrs. Ruben.

She took Denise’s hands and shared, “A husband was already chosen for your mother. When her family found out that she was pregnant for Donte’ they took her to the doctor to abort the pregnancy,” she paused briefly, letting go of Denise’s hands.

Clasp her hand as if in prayer, she continued, “It was too late. He offered to marry her, but they threatened to harm him if he didn't leave. And they told her that your father refused to accept paternity. She and her family sow hatred, and they have reaped discord,” she said, turning away for a second. Turning back around, she complimented, “Your father has a heart of Gold. He sows love every chance he gets, and when you sow love, you will Reap Kindness and Gratitude. He loves you and watches over you a lot.”

Through the tears, Denise asks, “Is he dying?”

“No,” she quickly said. “Thanks to God, he will be fine. Give him a chance to love you. Let him try to undo some of the cruelty your mother and her family have done to you.”

“I intend to,” Denise vows as the pain in her heart melts away.

When we sow hatred, we reap discord that destroys.

When we sow love, we reap kindness, gratitude, forgiveness, understanding, all good things that build and create.

Thank you for reading this piece. I hope you enjoyed it.