Of olive branches and chance encounters | Beverly Carroll

Of olive branches and chance encounters

I have bruises on both arms, one hand, and one wrist—souvenirs of recent IVs and blood draws. I’m home now, and the pain has lessened, but the marks remain.

I am covered in scars, flesh-and-blood reminders of all that follows a cancer diagnosis. I am currently in remission, but the scars remain.

I am riddled, too, with figurative scars—indelible reminders of wounds inflicted and losses compounded. Healing has been mine, but the effects remain.

My healing was both hard fought and incremental, but in the end, those figurative scars proved far more damaging than the literal ones.

On the heels of inconceivable loss—and already flattened by grief—I quickly realized there would be other deaths to mourn, deaths I never imagined I’d face: the death of trust, the death of decades-long relationships, the death of safety and security, the death of a reputation once pristine. No longer admired, I was reviled, labeled, and preemptively discredited.

I possessed the receipts to defend myself, but instead of trying to combat each attack with truth, like an unsustainable, frenzied game of Whac-A-Mole, I ultimately chose not to. Not because I lacked the will, but because I refused to fight the way they fought, to wound the way they wounded. God knew. He saw. And that was enough for me.

Four years have passed, now, with no communication, but I forgave long ago. It was the only real choice I had. Forgiveness became my lifeline—my offering to God—a refusal to allow bitterness to take hold and take root. Consistent forgiveness finally robbed bitterness of its power to become the taskmaster and architect of my future and set me free from the bondage that threatened to ensnare me.

I learned that the best way to live with my scars was not to lament them, but to consecrate them to the One who heals.

“Why is she bringing this up now? Why doesn’t she just move on? Why dredge up the past after all this time?”

Well…because this page is a chronicle of God’s activity in my life. Because every happening teaches and can be redeemed. Because what scars us also sanctifies us. Because the past informs the future. Because a lack of transparency leaves things murky and unresolved.

That is never God’s way.

Only one who has found the path home can point the way back, so I risk the ire of the few for the benefit of the many. I share my story, knowing that, in many ways, it will be your own. As kinship results from burdens shared, may solace and solidarity mitigate your pain and remind you that you are not alone.

For clarity’s sake, this post was prompted by one thing only: A completely unexpected encounter that occurred the very first night of the new year. It took a while for me to process what happened, but it was a pivotal moment in the pursuit of healing that has characterized my life since Jimmy’s loss.

A lovely dinner with a dear friend was interrupted by an emergency call which left me all alone, just as our meal was being served. Alone and already feeling vulnerable, my painful past collided with my patched-up present.

I found myself face-to-face with two people who directly contributed to the scars I now bear. Two people I had not seen in over four years. The chance meeting shook me.

Their approach was tentative, hesitant, unsure. There was obvious uncertainty as to how I would respond, but I immediately sensed humility emanating from them.

It was clear to me that time had softened their once-combative stance. And, as they spoke, an offering of their own began to take shape—an apology—an honest acknowledgment of the pain inflicted, devoid of excuses or justifications.

Tears flowed. Arms enfolded. Kindness was extended. And grace met us there, in that moment. It wasn’t a grace I needed in order to forgive; I already had. That work had long been done. Nor was it the missing piece to my healing; that had come slowly and steadily through constant surrender to God’s exacting claim on my life.

No, this was a grace that offered mutual peace—a gift freely given, not because it was demanded, but because it was needed.

I didn’t minimize the pain for which they were directly responsible, and I won’t with you. To diminish the hurt would have been to diminish the beauty of the grace that followed. Pain and betrayal are universal, but their effect on us is a choice. Do we succumb to them as they hold us captive to bitterness, or do we allow them to stretch us toward redemption and all that they are helping us to become?

Healing, without an apology, is difficult, yes, but it is healing, nonetheless. It is the quiet, courageous act of choosing freedom over bitterness and peace over resentment. Forgiveness without acknowledgment is still forgiveness. It is God’s mechanism for bondage-free living. And when the past meets the present, and honesty and sorrow converge, it becomes an irresistible invitation to peace.

That night, we all had a choice to make, and, to God’s great glory, we chose well. We chose to love, to receive the love offered, and to pitch our tents towards grace. Scars chronicle our stories. They do not, however, have the last say. They do not define our endings.

Beloved, don’t let what scarred you, harden you. No matter where you find yourself—still in the pain or stepping into the healing—grace awaits. So, help yourself to it. Do the hard and holy work required for your liberation, knowing that it won’t just benefit you, but all the others still languishing in their own woundedness.

Forgiveness may not erase the past, but it unlocks a future that won’t be yours any other way.

Remain humble, knowing that only one name matters, and it is not yours. There is glory at stake, and it is His. It has always been about God. His fame. His purposes. His glory. His plan.

So, walk worthy of the calling placed upon your life long before the wounds took hold. No matter what befalls you on this path from cradle to grave, offer it to the One whose glory trumps all. Submit to all His healing requires and thank Him for the privilege of bearing with honor what could have destroyed you, but only made you stronger and more usable in His hands.

“Forgiveness is the key which unlocks the door of resentment and the handcuffs of hatred. It breaks the chains of bitterness and the shackles of selfishness.”
~ 𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐦

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