3 Times I Have "Risen from the Dead" as a Stepmother
I have died many times but have risen a thousand times more.
Faith is personal, yet Easter is universal.
The season offers a powerful message of hope, joy and forgiveness. It is especially highlighted with the Resurrection symbolizing renewal and rebirth, forgiveness and redemption and the chance to begin again.
As a stepmother, I found myself in situations where it felt as if I have “risen from the dead.” From a dark or not-so-delighful place, I have experienced breakthrough moments to seize renewed strength.
Here are some instances.
My stepson wrote me a letter thanking me for loving him and his siblings, after a terrible stepmothering incident.
When my son was ten years old, I recall the single incident where I snapped at him angrily, breaking down in tears. And I did this in public! A guard had to restrain me from my anger. I was so ashamed of myself, feeling that whatever chance I had with him to foster a good relationship was gone, gone, gone! From then on, I never allowed myself to lose myself in anger with them, no matter what the reason.
Around a year later, I was surprised by a letter he wrote to me. The teacher gave me his recollection letter when the students were asked to write to one person of their choosing. He chose me! I could not get over it. I felt he had forgiven me after all.
I felt alive!
My husband held me close, supporting my parenting stand, after a painful experience of disciplining the children.
A major high school issue cropped up during the adolescent years of our girls. Since I was the parent mostly around, I bore all the crap that came with it. I was fooled once, twice, thrice. Lied to, answered back at. I had to search the town to find them. It was not a pretty story. Many times, I would vent my anger to my husband and cry. But often, he would just hold me close, listen to my pain, and assure me that he was by my side. Thankfully, we got through it and we saved the girls from harm.
I have risen.
I saw my father make time for my stepchildren, taught them to ride the bike, do the multiplication table and set up the rubber pool, after giving me a mouthful of marrying a man with children.
My husband and I had to endure hurtful words from my father before our wedding. My husband even said to me, “I was never talked down to like that in my entire life.” But he took it.
A few months after our wedding, the children met my parents. There was no drama. I could not even recall how they met each other. All I remember was that, every time I was at work, my father would transfer to our household to spend time with the children. I knew that he taught them math, played jackstones with them and read books to them. But it was when my grown up stepchildren talked fondly of my father and how he taught them to ride a bike that I realized how he loved them. When the children speak of him today, I know they love him too.
Every time I think of this, I come alive.
Easter is a symbol of new beginnings and a reminder that no matter what, forgiveness is at hand. I have died many times —- making mistakes, punishing myself, questioning hope at times. But as much as I have died, I have risen too, denying despair, choosing hope again and again.
Some Sakura blossoms, a furry, dog tail, tiny aster blooms —
love <3
Thank you for sharing.
We have all been there - regretting our actions, wishing to retract and redo - and being shown grace. I think it's called being human. Happy Easter!
So happy and blessed to find your home on Substack. I live in a melded home and I am the Oma of 5+3 children 🍃😳