Through the Lens of a 12-year Old

...I really hate it when you do that" mum finished off in an exasperated tone as she marched upstairs. "What now my dear?" Dad followed swiftly behind her in an attempt to pacify her. It was too late, mum had gotten to her room, slammed the door and locked it. Dad was about to yell, but then he turned around and saw me, tears rolling down my cheeks. He ran to me, hugged me tightly and kept apologising.

See, this had been the scene in my house for as long as I could remember. My parents were always at each other's throats. My mum always seemed to complain about everything, dad could never do right as far as she was concerned, she would even tell me hurtful stories about dad, just to get me on her side. But the 12 year old me, knew better. The problem wasn't dad. It was her.


How do I know this, you ask? Well, I could base my judgement on one of the occasions I found dad crying on the sofa when he thought no one was listening. This was almost 2 years ago, but I remember vividly. I heard him mumble words like 'Lord, I still love Sandra so much...forgive me...forgive her...need your peace in our home..." I couldn't really hear him as I watched from the doorway, but I understood what he was saying. Although, this wasn't the first time I had seen him cry, that particular incident shattered me. I could see the desperation in his eyes, I could hear the passion with which he prayed. I couldn't hold it any more, so I ran to him and gave him the tightest hug my skinny 12-year old frame could give. We cried together for a while and then he let me wipe his tears. In that moment, it felt like I was his mum, a role I was more than happy to play. My dad is what outsiders would call 'macho', but inside, he's such a 'softie'. The type of man I pray to get married to, if I get married that is. Look, this isn't even the only incident that has brought me to this conclusion, but hey, I wouldn't bore you with those details.

I'm just so confused right now, my class teacher called my parents in for a meeting last week. She told him (oh, I forgot to mention, only my dad attended...as usual) my grades are getting worse and I always look so disinterested, that's when I'm not sleeping. Well, we all sleep in Mr. Martins class, who wouldn't? He keeps telling us about his boring life rather than teach science, what he is paid to do. Anyway, back to my point. I do try to concentrate, I honestly do. but I just don't have a long attention span. My mind always seems to dwell on our family problems, it makes me question the existence of God. Truth be told, I only believe the existence of this supreme being called God because my dad told me. He has never lied to me. I love that man! But where is this God? Does he not know what we're going through at home? Can't he change my mum? Can't he make her stop cheating on my dad with her manager at work? My dad knows this, but I think he's in denial. If there really is a God, he can work on my mum's heart, right? That's what our Sunday School teacher said last Sunday- "God can change anybody's heart, He can soften it or even harden it, like the case of Pharoah. You can pray to God for a change of heart for yourself and even your loved one". Hearing those words from her gave me a glimmer of hope. So I'll try that, I'll talk to God about it tonight, He has to change my mum's heart. I'll let you know how it goes. I have to go now, my private tutor is here, let's see if she can help get my grades back up.