An excerpt from an old art journal I was writing in at age 20.
“Here’s a little story about three people: a mother, a father, and their daughter. The daughter loved them both dearly, but the mother didn’t love the father, so in return the father refused to love the daughter. The pain and bitterness that rooted its way around the chambers of his heart were too great to break free of. Hate grew exponentially in his heart and flowed from his lips and out of his fingertips as easy as the wind on a Fall day. He thought their daughter would hurt him the way her mother had, and he couldn’t bring himself to face that kind of pain again; ruining their daughter’s life became his method of coping and healing instead. He ruined their daughter’s life the way her mother had ruined his…or at least he tried to. He couldn’t though, despite his attempts, because although she was broken and her eyes never seemed to be rid of tears, she triumphed by forgiving both her mother and her father. She forgave them for the mistakes they made in their youthful haste to play grown ups. She chose to forgive because she loved them in spite of the history they had written for each other. She forgave them because if it wasn’t for them, she wouldn’t be here and she wouldn’t know of a God who redeems all and loved her when they could not. So she won. She lived. She loved. Because love conquers all. “