You are a redemptive story ….

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“It’s been a long time since we’ve been alone,” my sister said to me as we got into her car. “Too long,” I agreed and fastened my seatbelt. Despite the grim reason for our road trip, our movements and demeanor were light.

We were headed to our hometown to pay our last respects to our biological father. I guess I frame it as “biological” because unfortunately, he was not a consistent presence in our lives. Our connection was at best was … biological. I’ve written about my life without him before. I wished for more, but it didn’t happen the way I hoped.

Join the conversation online #worthliving and follow @marydemuth on Twitter and Instagram

Join the conversation online #worthliving and follow @marydemuth on Twitter and Instagram

During the 2-hour ride, we caught up with each other’s lives, laughed a little and even found ourselves at one point listening to an audio book I started. I looked at my sister with great admiration. Next to me was a woman who was beautiful, resilient, and a creative soul with a family of her own. A far cry from the chubby little girl whom I played jump rope, chased seagulls and drank Pepsi in the hot Carolina sun with.

And then it happened.

The conversation we both managed to avoid from the onset of everything that happened.  We talked about what his death meant to us. More importantly, we talked about what his life meant to us. While we managed to make it to the ceremony and back home to our respective families, I felt that the conversation was far from over. I still had a need to explore my feelings about this. Around that time I received an email from the author Mary DeMuth who was developing a launch team for her newest book “Worth Living: How God’s Wild Love For You Makes You Worthy.”

Without thinking, I replied to her email and asked to sign up. I received an advanced copy of the book, and as I began reading, I found myself stuck on this sentence for days:

“I lived all those years of my childhood believing I was unworthy of protection, unworthy of affection, unworthy of attention, unworthy of applause, unworthy of nice things.”

– Mary DeMuth

Picture of Mary DeMuth's Book: Worth Living

Mary’s Book along with my FAVORITE mug.

I think I re-read that sentence well over a dozen times. Probably two dozen, if I’m completely honest. I highlighted the text. I rewrote it in my journal and stared at the words as if they were the beginning and end of everything for me. I never knew anyone else could feel that sense of worthlessness I did as a kid. There was always something in the back of my mind that made me believe I wasn’t worthy. It’s the thought by which I hinged everything and how I lived my life.

I revealed this to my dad in an intense conversation one day. I hesitantly explained that his lack of trying to be in my life made me feel like I wasn’t worth the effort — to which he responded with a weary, “I’m sorry, baby.”

But here’s my truth, I didn’t have the type of relationship I wanted with my dad on earth, but I have a heavenly Father, who took care of all of my needs. Every. Single. One. If I told you where I came from to how I live now … it’s only God. This I believe.

“Worth Living” helped me during this grieving period. The lies that we all believe about ourselves should be overshadowed by the ten truths she talks about in her book:

  • You are wildly loved.
  • You are more than a to-do list.
  • You are uncaged.
  • You are weakly strong.
  • You are secure.
  • You are beautiful.
  • You are chosen.
  • You are destined for impact
  • You are worth more than a paycheck.
  • You are a redemptive story.

My connection to Mary was a divine connection. I’m convinced of that. I wanted to endorse her book in this way because I believe with all my heart that God gives you what you need when you need it. Worth Living was a beautiful reminder to me that I am a redemptive story. I am worthy of God’s love, and so are you.

Mary’s also planning on hosting a conference this fall called, The Re-story Conference, go here to learn all about it.

33 thoughts on “You are a redemptive story ….

  1. What a beautiful story. I’m so sorry your father didn’t choose to be in your life. It’s clearly his loss. But I also know the pain that comes when a parent dies and there isn’t quite the resolution you longed for. Praying blessings over you today.

  2. Dorthula Green

    Thanks…again! This blog is so enriching. As I think of my own ‘father’ journey, I struggled with many of the same issues. Like you, it was my relationship with the Lord that built my sense of ‘me’. “I will praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made” – Psalm. 139:14. So many of us have ‘untold stories of missing fathers. Thanks for sharing yours. Peace & Blessings.

  3. I love this. I’m going through this with my dad and he’s sick and I’ve forgiven his lack of consistency, but my siblings are choosing not too. This is a great post! I’m sharing.

    • It takes real courage to forgive, Tikeetha. I applaud you. I get not forgiving right away. It may just take your siblings a little longer to come to it for themselves. I have come to realize that it’s a choice, not for the person but for me. Thanks for reading and sharing! ☺️

      • Yep, there choice. My dad wants me to help but I told him that he created this problem and he needs to solve it. God helped me to forgive him and my life has been so much better since then. You’re welcome.

  4. This is a very touching story. I can relate to what it feels like not to have your biological father in your life. Mine was gone for almost thirty years before I had the courage to look for him. One of the main driving forces behind that was that I never wanted to learn of his passing away before I had tried to reconnect. Not to have a parent around really leaves a hole in your heart, no matter why they left

    • I really like what you said here. It seems, unfortunately, that our experience is not uncommon. You know exactly how I feel. I can remember being 5 or 6 thinking that I’d go on this quest to look of him. To bring him home. LOL! I’m in awe that you looked for your dad. Did you find him? Were you able to reconnect?

  5. Thank you, it was one of the scariest things I have ever done. I also wouldn’t have recognized him. He had aged so much. Very weirdly though, when we hugged each other and my head rested on his chest/shoulder, I recognized his smell, you know, that smell from childhood, and the way his chest felt. I had not forgotten. It was like time travel, really, really, weird, that’s how I reconnected.

  6. What a touching and moving post. I’m sorry you didn’t have a close relationship with your biological father. It must have been rough, but l’m glad that you have found peace with it with the help of a higher being :-).

    • It’s definitely worth checking out. I read your blog entry and knew you understood. There’s another blogger who also wrote about this, she’s at myonelifetodayme.wordpress, the post is called Do what scares you most. She left a link in one of the messages above, please read it. She is a sister in this, she gets it.

  7. “wildly loved.” I’m seeing that now. Things were going badly with my family, and each day that I’d get some bad news or something unpleasant happened, I’d get a little reminder that God loved me with a little win that kept me going. It is still happening daily, and I definitely feel loved by God.

  8. This sounds like a great book, that would be very helpful to those who have/had strained relationships with a parent. And you’re so right about God giving you what you need, when you need it. He’s amazing!

  9. Cece, this made me cry. You’re an amazing storyteller, but what moved me was your story. I didn’t experience this growing up, but I’m afraid that my son will. I am so glad that you have a strong relationship with God because you are so very worthy of love and all you desire. Thank you so much for sharing your story. God bless you.

    PS: I need this book!

    • Awe. You know I had people who constantly reminded me to whom I belonged. Sometimes (okay, many times) I didn’t listen or didn’t believe them but I look back and know that it wasn’t nothing but grace. It sounds like you’re son is very lucky, mom.

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