HATE...

Hate.  This is a word I have been contemplating for a while now.  When you think of hate it is almost like the worst feeling you can project on yourself or someone else.  Imagine feeling so much hate for someone that you have no thought to his or her well-being.  You cannot feel anything positive towards them.  You would not shed a tear if they died.  You almost want to blame them for everything that has ever gone wrong in your life.  You want to make them suffer.  You think you are superior to them, as if they do not have the right to even be in your thoughts, your life, and your existence.  Your hate has consumed you.  This person that you feel so much contempt for could never do anything to change the way you feel.  There is no amount of time that could go by to heal any wounds; there are no words that could ever be spoken to change your all-consuming hatred of them. 

There was a time or two in my life when I felt that much hate that I just described.  I remember feeling in so much control over it, but in reality it had all the control over me.  I had my happy moments, but I could never be truly happy because I still allowed those hateful feelings to share the same space in my heart with the love.  In reality, when it came down to it, I was miserable.  I put on a good show when I had to.  I would post happy pictures on my social media.  I would re-post positive sayings that I would see on my friends pages.  I would post pictures of my kids, my grandkids, the places I would go, and the yummy food I would eat.  I would sometimes even convince myself that all was good even when I knew there was a dark place in my heart toward certain people.  One day, a very dark day that inner hate almost took my own life.  It almost convinced me that I would never truly be happy.  I blamed everyone, especially those that I hated.  It scared me.  I even wrote a letter on my computer so that those who I blamed for all the bad, would know it and would feel terrible for what I believed they did to get me to that place.  Some people say rock bottom is death, they are right, but not physical death but emotional death.  I gave up on myself, my family, society, and God. 

Obviously, it did not end there or I wouldn’t be here writing this.  Why am I still here? Because the very one that I gave up on who refused to ever give up on me was the one who saved me.  He saved me by changing my heart and filling it with Love, complete and unconditional Love for the first time in my life.  I began to have empathy for those who I hated so much.  I began to care whether they lived or died.  I was ready to put all that hurt behind me and make a difference from that day forward.  He saved me, never gave up on me, thought I was important enough to keep Loving me.  So why am I writing this, because I need Him everyday to remind me that He is still here, still protecting me, still loving me.  Recently, I felt that contempt again for a couple of people.  I wanted to hate them, to rid them of my life, my heart, and my memories.  I wanted to give up on them like I felt they gave up on me.  I wanted to lash out and to hurt them and make them suffer.  I wanted to shame them, embarrass them, and ruin them.  It scared me, I felt that darkness once again trying to consume me so I did the only thing I knew to do, I just asked God to please help me, don’t let hate win.  It was then that I realized I was incapable of hating them, no matter what.  I did care whether they lived or died.  I did not want them to suffer or be sad.  That was God’s gift to me.