What can heal our yesterdays?

Everything seems to be going well during my ten-minute drive home after dropping my daughter Tracy off at her house—until Anne Murray begins to sing on the radio, “Could I have this dance for the rest of my life?”

Suddenly I feel a flood of old familiar pain, from 40 years ago, when Dad left us in the middle of the night. He had made lots of promises to me that were never kept. And I had wanted him with me for “the rest of my life,” as this song is now reminding me.

I was 15 when he left. With so much water gone under the bridge, I feel anguish that this scar is resurfacing. Why can’t I let go of the longing to see Dad’s beautiful face? When will I find complete forgiveness? With tears now running down my face and my heart reaching out to God for a deeply needed hug, I pray, What do I need to see, Father, to get over this?

Tracy and I had just returned from a trip to Seattle, enjoying a closeness we’ve long cherished, buzz-ing down Interstate 5, laughing and singing at the top of our lungs. Joy poured into my thoughts as we sang together. When Tracy and I sing, our tone is so similar that we both feel a bit weird—as if we’re hearing our own voices coming from each other. It has even caused us to laugh—or try not to—when we sing hymns in church.

Now my laughter has turned to tears. But I’m not going to beat myself up over that, because I know I have a right to feel the deep-down love of God. I know well that this love doesn’t take us part way when it heals us; His healing love brings a complete renewal of our thoughts and our experiences. The wonderful joy I was feeling while singing with my daughter stands in sharp contrast with the deep pain still lurking undetected in my heart. I know I need to be grateful it has been discovered, because now, by praying, I can be free of its influence in my life.

I’ve found that the cleansing of old hurts can require persistent effort—sometimes even downright courage —to continue the battle against discouragement or self-condemnation. Deep sorrows are often easier to ignore than to face. They sometimes go accommodated, like a pair of slightly too-tight shoes. But you can never walk quite as freely until they are removed.

OK, I pray, Help me again, God.

And I know He will. I am hugely grateful to God for the progress I’ve made toward forgiving my dad. And I’ve felt much healing of suffering from abuse. When my prayer had shown to me that because my dad was God’s child he had never really been an alcoholic, he quit drinking completely—after years of addiction. My fear of men, which grew out of the abuse I’d experienced, vanished. As a result, I’ve had 35 wonderful years of marriage. Frequent episodes of a painful pressure in my head had lifted when I accepted the spiritual fact that God’s fathering love was always with me. These were giant steps forward for me.

My study of the Bible and Mary Baker Eddy’s writings, especially Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures, has brought such new views of God into my life that the ongoing transformation of my thought has become the most freeing and wonderful reason I have for living. Nothing the world has to offer has felt as deeply satisfying to me as the growing understanding that I’m a loved daughter of God.

So there in the car I begin to go deeper to find out the truth about the times in my life that had seemed so lost. For a number of years after Dad left, I had lived out my anger and feelings of defeat with a devil-may-care attitude. Betrayal and lost love had led me into relationships that were unfulfilling and shortsighted. I pray: If there is even a tiny place in my heart that needs comforting, then I must be willing to let the love and joy that moved me to sing with my daughter enter that sad place and heal it. This is just another opportunity to give the moments of my life back to God.

A wonderful passage from Science and Health comes to mind, and I gladly shine its patina as I use it one more time to surrender my sad yesterdays and let the love of God lift my history into His infinite vision: “. . . to all mankind and in every hour, divine Love supplies all good.”

Again those words of truth reassure me that there has never been a moment when He, who is Love itself, was less than Love. Every single minute of each day is full of God’s powerful love waiting to be understood and experienced. Understanding God as Love is a healing force that is able to adjust our lives and heal the ills of both mind and body. My prayer goes on: Each one of my 24 hours of every day belongs to God alone, and I have the right to know what that means.

Suffering dissolves when I understand that it is not the reality of being but merely a side effect of my ignorance that God and His goodness are always present. The presence of eternal Love is seen through spiritual sense, not the material senses. Prayer and spiritual growth are mind-openers that bring our thoughts (even our thoughts of the past, which we carry with us today) into accord with spiritual reality. In that reality I discover that I am, and always was, cherished and whole and free.

As I drive, my prayer brings fresh realizations: Today, I’m discovering that Love was never really lost at all. That each moment of God’s eternal goodness has always filled all space. That Dad didn’t walk out with any of the love I needed to be the child of God. It stayed with both me and him.

As I drop more of my limited material view of what God’s love is, I see with a wider vision. Today I see more clearly what was really there yesterday. I understand better that my Father was always with me, loving and caring for me. I was loved then, and no love was lost to me. Ever.

I end my prayer: Thank you, Father. In this understanding, today, I feel new and closer to You. OK, I’m ready for some more singing. Even Anne Murray would be fun right now.

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