OPINION:
In 2020, seven years after I stopped speaking with my 81-year-old father, I decided to forgive him. I was about to enter my dad’s house and have dinner with him.
Though I never thought it possible, seven years after I’d “disowned” him, I forgave my father for what he did to me, my mother, and my seven siblings. It was an unlikely series of events that allowed me to visit this man’s life celebration and sing Happy Birthday, grateful for the gifts he did impart and able to forgive the mental agony he helped create that made me want to kill myself.
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I made sure I wasn’t alone, in part for my own physical safety. My youngest brother, John, now a strapping, muscular U.S. Army captain, joined me.
My parents lived in Jackson County, Missouri in a small apartment in a white-siding triplex bought with Grandpa Sheffield’s inheritance. They’d mainly been living off Social Security and government disability payments for my brothers, who cannot work. I have no shame or judgment for their poverty. People from impoverished areas, including Third World countries, are often the happiest because they have joyful, unconditional love. In our home, we were both poor and without healthy, unconditional, life-sustaining love.
John knocked and my parents answered the door. Mom and Dad both looked older and frail and were starting to hunch over. Mom was 71, dressed in one of her practical, sturdy outfits: usually black sweatpants, black hoodie and black or red turtleneck. Her hair had long turned gray, but she kept it as close to her natural auburn using drugstore DIY hair dye.
Dad, his thinning hair and mustache practically snow white now, usually favored collared shirts and denim cargo pants – he loved the multiple pockets to stash his handheld Book of Mormon, day planner and Swiss army knife.
We sat down in the tiny kitchen, crowded around the table with Mom, Dad, and my two schizophrenic brothers, Peter and Jonah. We sat at the small, cream-colored, tiled, rectangular table and ate a modest meal of defrosted frozen Mexican food and iceberg lettuce salad while two cute little dogs and a cat scampered underfoot.
By this time, my parents were proud I was appearing on national television. I was photoshopped back into the family bookmarks after I’d been erased during college. Peter and Jonah, who years ago had both demonstrated bizarre sexual inclinations toward me, were calm and non-confrontational. Their medication regimes seemed to have stabilized them, and I didn’t feel physically unsafe, though I’m sure it helped that John was there.
Dad was on his best behavior, but Mom told me he’d also developed Alzheimer’s and he seemed much more relaxed and placid than I’d ever seen him.
Most of my five non-schizophrenic siblings were also in various stages of estrangement with Dad, though one “golden boy,” brother remained the “Nephi” of the family. Nephi is a Book of Mormon prophet considered to be the most righteous of six brothers who stood in stark contrast with their rebellious firstborn brothers, Laman and Lemuel. For years, Dad called my sister Sophie and me “Laman and Lemuel,” since we were the first to escape The Mission.
Aside from our Nephi who lived near my parents, none of the other five siblings at that time were on good terms with Dad. I’d pushed him furthest away, though my siblings and I had a mutual understanding about why. Only Mom consistently pleaded for me to forgive Dad for what she called “rough edges.” To me, they were sins far more grievous than ill manners to be softened through etiquette training at finishing school. Mom, who believed wholeheartedly in her husband’s prophetic calling, prayed for nearly 20 years for this day to arrive – when both parties would reconcile.
Until then, Mom’s pleas fell on my figuratively deaf ears, and now Dad was facing near physical deafness. Despite his hearing aids, Dad pulled his signature move of cupping his hand around his ear as an impromptu gramophone to help him hear.
He was still coherent and able to hold a conversation, though there were moments when he seemed to drift off and his sky-blue eyes glazed over. There were no recriminations, fire and brimstone accusations, no hateful sermons.
The whole thing was surprisingly, blissfully, anticlimactic. In some respects, these family members felt like strangers, yet there was a feeling of peace.
I had released my visceral hatred of the man who’d brought me endless shame and regret. The man who spoke curses over me, who had abandoned me, and likely drove my two sweet brothers to insanity, stealing any possibility of a normal life. God will hold Dad accountable for his sins, just as He will hold me accountable for mine.
We often get our view of God from our fathers. That’s why our crisis of fatherlessness hits society so hard. Numerous studies show fatherlessness and paternal child abuse as crucial factors in whether a child drops out of high school, falls into drugs and gangs, commits crimes, or becomes a single teenage mother. Whether we suffer the trauma of abuse or abandonment, this often leads us to forget who our real father is – God, our infinite source of love, joy, and purpose.
Reverend Billy Graham said, “A child who is allowed to be disrespectful to his parents will not have true respect for anyone.”
He’s right. My rage against my father manifested itself in how I disrespected myself, my romantic partners, and others in my life. I needed to forgive everyone in my life (including toxic coworkers, various LDS and other church leaders, cheating exes) and ask God to forgive me. There were LDS church leaders who hurt me, but many others who cared and helped me. I needed to forgive all the hurt and release my anger.
Rev. Graham also wrote: “The Bible clearly says, ’Honor thy father and thy mother’ (Exodus 20:12, KJV). This passage sets no age limit on such honor. It does not say they must be honorable to be honored. This does not necessarily mean that we must ’obey’ parents who may be dishonorable. We must honor them. Honor has many shapes and affections.”
In many ways, my father lived a dishonorable life, but that doesn’t mean I should retaliate and dishonor him. It means I must live a life in a way that brings him honor, both to him as a person and to my family name. The more I study about the effects of childhood sexual and emotional abuse, the more my heart grieves for his childhood pain.
The more I also see that we both became “worksaholics” – Christian workaholics who think they must prove God’s grace and prove themselves to Him and the world that we are valid and that we are “special.” But while God is no respecter of persons, e.g. He tells us not to live in boastful pride, He also gives us unconditional love. We are always worthy to Him.
The song, “Jireh” by Elevation Worship explains how we should view God:
I’ll never be more loved than I am right now
Wasn’t holding You up
So, there’s nothing I can do to let You down
We have no need to ever be insecure. God is not insecure and doesn’t need us to “hold Him up.” Our parents should not be insecure but instill stability in their children. Instead, my father was deeply insecure. I “let him down” by running away from The Mission. I was “holding him up” when I told the social workers everything was fine when it wasn’t when I shielded him from his stalker. I was “holding him up” during the years I played music on street corners to fulfill his false motorhome prophecies.
Jesus says in Matthew 7:9-11, “Is there anyone among you who, if your child asked for bread, would give a stone? Or if the child asked for a fish, would give a snake? If you, then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good things to those who ask him!”
My father gave me stones and serpents. I went out and bought myself baskets of my own rocks and snakes, too. If you’ve been hurt by someone you love or trust, the worst thing you can do is go out and hurt yourself more through self-destructive behavior. It only gives your abuser more power over your life.
Many know Jesus’ parable of the Prodigal Son. But there’s also the story of Joseph, a story of a Prodigal Father and Prodigal Brothers. Joseph’s dad attacks his spiritual abilities and his brothers kidnap him, consider murdering him, and sell him into slavery.
My dad was like Joseph’s family members, and while I’m not an adviser to Pharaoh, I praise God I could forgive and embrace Dad, just as Joseph could forgive his family. Joseph’s own weeping upon his family reunion in the palace of Pharaoh was so loud that it reverberated across the palace and Joseph’s attempts at secrecy failed. I wonder if God’s reunion in heaven when a prodigal child returns has a similar sound. We know Jesus weeps.
Enormous blessings happened because of his family but also in spite of his family. “Even though you intended to do harm to me, God intended it for good, in order to preserve a numerous people, as he is doing today,” Joseph tells his brothers in Genesis 50:20 when they unknowingly come to beg for food from him during a famine that he masterfully defeats, saving untold thousands or millions of lives.
I’ll spend the rest of my life discerning how my abuse can be used for good, in service of God. And I’ll be praying for all others facing a similar journey.
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Excerpt taken from “Motorhome Prophecies: A Journey of Healing and Forgiveness,” by Carrie Sheffield
Carrie Sheffield is a columnist and broadcaster in Washington, DC. She earned a full-tuition Harvard scholarship, managed billions of dollars in risk at Wall Street firms, and competed in a Miss USA system beauty pageant. A journalist and former White House correspondent, she challenged the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt and testified as an economic expert before the U.S. Congress. Carrie achieved all this while overcoming a life of extreme poverty and psychological, spiritual, and sexual abuse. A recovered agnostic, Carrie eventually found peace and anchoring in Christianity. Carrie shares insights on networks like CNN, MSNBC, Fox News, CBS News, CNBC, BBC, and more. From ABC’s Good Morning America to HBO’s Real Time with Bill Maher, PBS, and C-SPAN, she uses her dynamic voice to resonate with audiences of millions. A traveling enthusiast, Carrie visited every continent—including Antarctica—before age 30. She ran the Marine Corps Marathon and won the National Press Club 5K three times. Named a “Most Inspiring New Yorker” by the popular connection app Bumble, Carrie is passionate about instilling resilience and joy in others.
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