The Shack

I love to read. I like to read mystery, fantasy, suspense, love, comedy, and even a romance novel now and then. After Dan died, I stopped doing many of the things I loved. I stopped watching football for a while, I stopped listening to music, I stopped watching any shows that we loved together. I did not, however, stop reading. During that "first year" without him, I actively sought knowledge about grief. Really what I was doing was assuring myself that other people had endured this pain, and survived. I read many books like, "I Wasn't Ready to Say Goodbye", "A Grief Observed", "Widows Wear Stillettos", "The Tender Scar", "Waking up Alone", and "Getting to the Other Side of Grief"; to name a few. Most of the books I read, made me feel stronger, but at times, I read words that would have been discouraging to even non-widows. I swore to never read another Nicholas Sparks novel, or Jodi Picoult, because I didn't need their reasons and words to make me cry, I had my own.

I'm slowly easing back into the reading scene of non-grief books, (currently infatuated with C.J. Box's novels that include the character Joe Pickett.) Before I began the Joe Pickett series, I read a book lent to me by my mom. She didn't really give me any background on the book except that it was a Must Read. I would like to say that my mom had no idea how right she was, but something tells me, yes, in fact she knew exactly what she was handing me as she carelessly put it in my purse one day after a visit.

I took "The Shack" by WM. Paul Young out of my purse when I got home. I read the book jacket, and thought, "Wow, Mom....Do you want me to kill myself?" It sounded depressing, and not at all like the uplifting words I needed to read.

I layed the book on my nightstand amidst the stacks of other to-read books. I don't remember how or why it popped out at me recently, but it did, and I am better because of it. I would love to tell you all about this book, and give my opinions, my views, thoughts, feelings, but I really want you to read it for yourself. I am going to write this:

For about a year and a half (since Dan's passing) there has been hate brewing inside of me. Hate for certain people who care more about themselves than the memory and beautiful life lived by my husband. Hate of being wronged, hate for lies told, and promises broken. Hate for harsh words, and stabs to the back and heart. My favorite phrase to those I spoke about this with was, "At least I'm not the one that has to judge them." I smiled believing and playing like a movie what their judgement would look like. Hoping it would be the hand of God smacking them all down into eternal hell, which is what I feel they have done to me. Would you believe me if I told you this book has turned my hate? Don't get me wrong, you are not going to see me embracing any of these people in a heartfelt hug, or let alone making eye contact, however I do not hate.

What I walked away with from this book is that God loves all his children. Even the ones that make our stomach turn in disguist, he loves them as much as he loves the ones that dedicate their lives to being good. Just like any parent loves their doctor or lawyer daughter as much as they love their addicted/jailed son.

I don't believe that I have to love these people as God loves them, but I do need to forgive them. Not for their benefit, but for mine. I need to release the hate that bonds me to them, and with that, they will forver be let go.

As young girls our mother told my sister and I, "Never say hate." "You can say, dislike, but hate is ugly." And just like the many lessons, she taught me so diligently throughout my life...

She knew exactly what she was doing when she slipped THE SHACK into my purse.