I AM THAT GIRL...
I am the girl who was robbed of her childhood and was shackled well into her adulthood.
I am the daughter of a man who sometimes disappeared for days without a phone call... without a trace.
Alcoholism is no respecter of Christmas or birthdays... regret or heart-break.
Each day just is. Drunk or not.
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I AM THAT GIRL...
I'm the little girl tucked away fragile under her pink blanket in the back seat of the rusty old Dodge Dart.
Many nights of my childhood, the hum of the tires laid its path from dirty country roads to the county jailhouse where we would collect my father, sometimes black-eyed, busted lipped, and blood-soaked... always speech slurred with excuses.
I am the small girl who hid alone in the backseat mingled in the odor of cigarette smoke, stale alcohol and fresh vomit. I covered my nose and mouth with my pink blanket so I wouldn't have to breathe his air. The multi-colored neon lights of the bail bonds building pulsated and robbed my sleep. The school bus would come for me in a few short hours.
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I AM THAT GIRL...
I am the girl who lived in the reality of fear.
A MAN CAN'T SINK MUCH LOWER.
To elevate himself, he dominated me with his power, manipulated me with his anger, and controlled me with his terror.
I am the girl who had nightmares about him well into my thirties, and I will never fully escape the mess he created.
I am the girl whose father broke her...drunk or sober...on purpose.
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I AM THAT GIRL...
I am the girl who believes in restoration.
I went to my father in my mid-twenties to express forgiveness. He didn't think there was anything that needed forgiveness.
I walked away for good leaving my grace in his lap while I carried his debt and mine home...with me.
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I AM THAT GIRL...
I am the girl who discovered she was rejected publicly. Her father declared no heirs, no children, no daughter... to him, I don't exist.
I am the damaged daughter who nearly drowned in his wake. Pain and baggage SCREAM that I am here.
Whether he writes me off or not, it doesn't change the fact that...
I am here... *sigh*
HE OWNS NOTHING... NOT EVEN ME.
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I AM THAT GIRL...
I am the girl who began to read the memoir of one of her favorite authors last Christmas... and wept.
This man changed my life, my heart, and my thinking, yet I discovered that he is not unlike my father.
I knew his story before, but in the memoir, he fleshed it out differently. I couldn't hide from the details. They haunted me. In a way, they still do.
NO MAN COULD HAVE BEEN ANY LOWER THAN BRENNAN... JUST LIKE MY FATHER.
BRENNAN MANNING WAS AN ALCOHOLIC JUST LIKE MY... *sigh*
FATHER...
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I AM THAT GIRL...
I am the girl entangled in the paradox that a man whose writing helped change my whole being, is in effect, like the man who nearly destroyed my whole being.
HOW CAN THIS BE?
Brennan and my father, both, were imprisoned by alcohol's ruthless demands, and both have lived with the consequences of its doom.
Brennan, however, was completely humbled, broken, and transparent about his enslavement to the disease of alcoholism. He owned every failure, every filth, every sorrow, every anguish, every battle, and every set-back. Brennan's life-story is etched on the pages of his final book, and...
HE COMES CLEAN...AS CLEAN AS ANY MAN POSSIBLY COULD.
Brennan transparently shares of the hell he was in and the hell he put others through (particularaly his ex-wife and step-daughters).
I felt every word I read, because I have lived them. I felt the anguish his loved ones experienced. I know what he did to them, because it's been done to me. I know they will never be the same, because I am not.
BUT THERE IS A DIFFERENCE WITH BRENNAN.
Brennan devoted his last published work to owning the hurt, the ugly, and the lowest of the lows. The pain of his remorse oozes from the pages.
BRENNAN OWNS EVERYTHING...
IT'S THE DIFFERENCE WITH BRENNAN.
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I AM THAT GIRL...
I am the girl who is wracked with utter failure and brokenness herself, and the barbaric message of grace penned by a man whose life resembles that of her father has been imprinted on her soul.
Brennan knew he needed grace, and he had no where else to go, but to accept it.
I know I need grace, and Brennan, ironically, was the avenue God used to sink the message of His scandalous grace into the marrow of my soul.
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I AM THAT GIRL...
I am the girl forever changed by the message of a ragamuffin-alcoholic fully humbled, and fully surrendered to outrageous grace.
I am eternally grateful for the beauty God made from Brennan's ashes, so that I know God can make something beautiful from mine.
THANK YOU, BRENNAN...
Because of you, I get it.
ALL IS GRACE,
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I would like to share with you one of the most meaningful things I personally believe Brennan has ever said.
"Do you believe that the God of Jesus loves you beyond worthiness and unworthiness...beyond fidelity and infidelity... that He loves you in the morning sun and in the evening rain... that He loves you when your intellect denies it, your emotions refuse it, your whole being rejects it? Do you believe that God loves without condition or reservation and loves *YOU* this moment AS YOU ARE and NOT AS YOU SHOULD BE?"
Click HERE for the link to Brennan's obituary. Our hearts are sad, but we are so glad you are home, at peace, and FREE, dear ragamuffin.
Brennan Manning's final book and memoir is entitled All is Grace... and friends, it really is.
