Fighting Hatred

I’m not sure I can face this journey for my granddaughter; the hatred from the step-parents is heavy, and my family doesn’t always rally behind me. Betrayal is common, and I’ve had enough of that poison.

Since my sister let her bitterness take over and spread ugly lies about me, claiming I’ve stolen from our mom, the family’s turned against me. If those rumors were true, they'd have every reason to be angry, but it's not like I’m the first one in this family to take from a parent.

I can’t forget what my sister and niece are capable of. They’ll feed a girl lies disguised as sweetness, bury a boy because a priest thought he was guilty, and she watched Martin Tremblay murder my nieces while she did his drugs. These memories, these truths, justify my mistrust of family.

My niece can handle the step-parents on her own; I know that stepdad has a soft spot for her anyway...

Breathe...

Breathe...

I can feel the pain flooding in when I talk to Diversity, hearing every hateful word her step-parents hurl at me. She waits for my words, eager to pass them on like a bitter messenger.

She’s a child, raised to spread this darkness. My granddaughter despises herself and is battling thoughts that want to pull her deep into shadows.

Yet, I still believe the Creator calls me to help her. I don’t feel strong—I’m often anxious, drowning in troubling thoughts, torn between fight and flight from old wounds.

Lord, grant me strength.

Everything doesn’t seem as grim as I think when I’m in that dark flood.

I love my family dearly.

We’ve all faced trauma, some of us still struggling to survive. We've all felt the sting of racism, the weight of colonization, and the scars left by Indian Residential Schools.

Lord, help me find strength in my mind and heart.

Send your healing spirits to surround my granddaughter.

I must do this; I must return to court for her.

Lord, guide me.   
Amen.


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