God Closed the Door, Not My Heart

All growing up, family meant everything to me.

Not just casually either. I really loved it. I loved family gatherings, loved sitting around visiting, loved being together, loved the feeling of belonging somewhere. Even though my childhood was a painful one, family was never a small thing to me. It mattered deeply.

As an adult, I made it a point to show up, even if money was tight. If somebody in the family had something to celebrate, or they needed support, I wanted to be there. I tried to be present. I tried to be the kind of person who didn’t just say family mattered... but actually lived like it did. I wanted my family to know that I loved them.  My aunts, uncles, cousins, and everyone that was a part of it. 

So when things started shifting, it hurt in a way that’s hard to explain unless you’ve lived it.  It's so difficult to explain the intricacy of it, that knowing that my older children and my husband have witnessed it, makes me feel.... I don't know... like I wasn't losing my mind after all? 

Over time, it became clear that I was being treated like I wasn’t really wanted around. There was a distance, a coldness, a change in the atmosphere that didn’t come from nowhere... and eventually I found out why.

I was told that a sibling had gone around telling family that I blamed them for some very painful things that happened in our family. That I blamed them for tearing the family apart. At one point, they even stated that I said my sibling was lying about what had happened. 

And it certainly was NOT true.

That was the part that really hit me. Not just that something untrue was said... but that it was believed, spread, and carried without anybody simply coming to me and asking.

I still remember the moment I snapped back at the person that told me and said, “You believed all that and just ran with it!? All you had to do was ask me!”  I mean, this person was old enough to be my mother and they waited years to come to me about this! 

That wasn’t just anger talking. That was hurt, disbelief, the pain of realizing people who claimed to know you were willing to build an image of you out of somebody else’s words without ever giving you enough love or respect to hear your side.

And I think that was one of the moments where something in me started waking up.

Because the truth is... this wasn’t one isolated thing.

For most of my life, I had tolerated toxic patterns from people I loved. 

Months of silence. 

Passive-aggressive behavior. 

Weird tension. 

Unhealthy communication. 

Being shut out instead of talked to. 

Being expected to absorb everybody else’s immaturity while still somehow keeping the peace.

And the sad part is... I tolerated it all in the name of wanting the unity of a close-knit family.

I wanted that so badly, I was willing to overlook things I should have never overlooked. I was willing to excuse things that were not healthy, not loving, and not okay. I was willing to settle for being treated like dirt from time to time, just to hold onto the hope that maybe one day we could be what I had always wanted us to be.

But there comes a point where you have to admit that constantly being the one swallowing hurt, overlooking disrespect, and carrying the weight of everybody else’s dysfunction is not unity.

That’s not family and it definitely isn't love.
It's survival and it's wrapped up in false hope.

I started noticing how family members talked about other people when they weren’t around. 

The nasty gossip. 

The betrayal. 

The picking apart of people behind their backs... only to turn right around and smile in their faces when they walked into the room like they had never said a single ugly thing.

That kind of stuff changes you when you finally see it for what it is.

Once your eyes are opened to that sort of thing, you can’t unsee it.

And that’s exactly where I found myself.

I started realizing this wasn’t just a few isolated issues or misunderstandings. 

This ran deep!

The gossip, betrayal, and fake niceness ran deep. 

The backdoor conversations, the damage done behind people’s backs... it had been woven through my family for GENERATIONS.

And once I saw it clearly, something in me changed.

It sat heavily in my gut when I was around them. I couldn’t shake it. I couldn’t laugh with people the same way when I knew how easily they could tear somebody apart the minute they left the room. I couldn’t pretend that kind of character didn’t matter. I couldn’t act like it was just “how family is” and brush it off.  Because that is NOT family at all!  Not a healthy one anyway! 

Honestly... their character disgusted me!

And it wasn't because I thought I was better than anybody... but because I had finally seen how deep the rot really went. And after you see that kind of ugliness for what it is, it becomes really hard to keep craving closeness with people who operate that way.

I really did just want a normal family life. I wanted honesty. I wanted connection. I wanted healthy resolution. I wanted the kind of family where things could be worked through instead of buried under sarcasm, avoidance, gossip, and emotional games.

I think part of why I kept holding onto that hope for so long is because I was raised in a group home for most of my teenage years, and in that environment, I was taught how to communicate in healthier ways. I learned what emotional responsibility looked like. So for years, I made excuses for my family. I kept thinking maybe they just didn’t know how to do better. Maybe if I stayed patient enough, understanding enough, forgiving enough... things would change.

But wanting something healthy doesn’t make other people capable of giving it.

That’s a hard truth!

I think one of the things that opened my eyes the most was watching how conditional some of those relationships really were.

When my older sister stopped talking to my mother (which happened quite frequently among family members), she (my mother) called me daily, interacted with me on social media daily, and was present in the lives of her grandchildren. But when they started talking again, all of that went silent, and I was given the cold shoulder like I didn’t exist and neither did my children.

It was the same way with my brother.

When they stopped talking, he texted me, called me, we were over at his house, there was connection. But when there was no beef with anyone, I was the target for the sarcasm, the blatant disregard for boundaries in my own home, and the overall attitude that made it very clear where I stood.

And after a while, you start seeing the pattern for what it is.

You start realizing you were never really being valued... you were being used to fill gaps.

You were convenient when there was distance somewhere else.
You were welcome when someone needed a place to land.
You were included when it benefited them emotionally.
But when things smoothed out for them, you were easy to overlook again.

That kind of realization does something to a person.

For years, I prayed that God would bring my family back to me. I prayed for restoration. I prayed for what I felt had been stolen. I prayed for closeness, healing, reconciliation... all of it.

And God answered that prayer... just not in the way I thought He would.

He allowed some of those doors to open again just long enough for me to finally see clearly why He had allowed them to close in the first place.

That part really does matter, even though it doesn't sound like a big deal.

Because sometimes we think every closed door is the enemy.
Sometimes we beg God to restore things that He actually removed to protect us.

And THAT was a painful realization for me.

But......it was also freeing.

Because I could finally see that God was not keeping good things from me.
He was shielding me from things that would have continued damaging me.

He knew.....that I would keep hoping.
He knew....that I would keep trying.
He knew....that I would keep extending, explaining, waiting, enduring... all because I loved deeply and wanted it to be different.

So in His mercy, He let me see it for what it was.

He opened my eyes so I would close the door, with His gentle guidance and instruction.  And honestly?  It was the FIRST TIME I HAVE EVER shut the door on my family.  THE ONLY TIME I had ever done it!

But it was't out of bitterness, or revenge, or pride.

It was out of obedience.
It was out of wisdom.
It was out of healing.
It was out of finally understanding that access to my life is not something everybody gets to have just because they share my bloodline.

If those doors would've stayed open the way I wanted them to, I would not have grown the way I needed to.  I wouldn't have stepped into my calling so freely.  

In all of that, though, God didn’t leave me with empty space.

He gave me a church family. He gave me people who have loved me, prayed for me, and helped heal deep wounds from my past. He used them to show me what healthy love can look like. What safe people can look like. What family can look like when Christ is actually at the center of it. I’m so grateful for that... because it helped heal places in me that had been hurting for a very long time. 

I would have still been under the weight of constant criticism, still second-guessing myself because of other people’s wounds, still trying to earn peace from people committed to dysfunction, still allowing unhealthy voices to speak into places in me that God was trying to heal.

Sometimes God will separate you from people not because you don’t love them...but because He loves you enough to not let what is broken in them keep stunting what He is growing in you.

That doesn’t make it easy, I know.  And it doesn’t mean there aren’t still moments where it hurts. Because, well, there are.

There are still moments where the younger part of me wants what I always wanted... just a normal family, honest love, safe connection, people who communicate, people who don’t make belonging feel like something that can be turned on and off depending on the mood or alliance of the week.

Healing teaches you that grieving what should have been is not the same as going back to what was.

And that’s a painful lesson that I’ve had to learn deeply.

I can love people and still step back.
I can pray for them even with closed doors between us.
I can wish things were different and still accept the truth of what they are.
I can stop calling dysfunction “family” just because it came from family.

And even with all of that being true... I STILL believe God is a restorer.

But He has been very clear that it's not on MY timeline, nor is it through forced reconciliation, or pretending things are healthy when they’re not.

But in His time... in His way... through truth, humility, healing, and real change.

Because He already promised restoration.

So while I may choose not to surround myself with toxicity, that does not mean I stopped loving them.

It doesn't mean that I turned my heart off and it does not mean I don’t care.

I pray for them daily.
I pray for their healing.
I pray for their hearts.
I pray blessings over them.

I pray that God would deal with the deep wounds, the deep roots, and the generations of brokenness that have kept so many things bound up in dysfunction. And I also pray that truth would rise where deception, gossip, and betrayal have lived for far too long.

I love them.
I really do... with all that I am.

But I've learned that love does not always mean closeness.
Sometimes it's prayer from a distance. Sometimes it's releasing people into the hands of God and trusting Him to do what you cannot. Sometimes it's even refusing to keep participating in cycles that are unhealthy, while still believing God is able to redeem what seems too far gone.

THIS is my mental space right now.  

I have made peace with the fact that I do not need to force what God told me to lay down.
And I have also made peace with the fact that when restoration comes, it will be because He did it... not because I kept sacrificing my peace trying to hold together something that was breaking me.

So I sit in the waiting room.
And while I sit, I pray, I trust, and I love... from a place that is no longer blind.

Because if God promised restoration, then I know He will do it.

And when He does, it will be right.
It will be clean.
It will not be built on pretending.
It will not be held together by silence, sarcasm, denial, or pain.

It will be something only He could have put back together.

And until then...
I will keep walking in peace, keep honoring His direction, and keep trusting that what He restores, He restores well.