The Chains of Bitterness Part 1

Many years ago, before
my days as a Christian, I had a man that literally, wanted to take my life. On
a dark road in my little barrio Arenas in Puerto Rico, this man furiously came
after me with a long piece of metal. He swung over and over yet, by the grace
of God, I was able to avoid him hitting me. There was no justifiable reason for
him wanting to kill me, but the hate of his family and mine was jumping from
generation to generation. At the time when this man wanted to take my life, I
was severely injured from playing basketball a few days before this encounter.
My left ankle was painfully twisted and swollen; I was unable to place any
weight on it to even balance myself properly. This man wanted to take advantage
of that injury as he knew that I was not going to be able to properly defend


A young man that was coming down the street yelled my
name as he saw what was to taking place; to this day, I thank God for this kid.
I was getting tired of balancing my body with one leg and avoiding contact with
this metal; I was in a very difficult and dangerous situation. As the young man
yelled my name, this attacker ran to his car and left. I went back to my house
furious and already planned my revenge. The young man’s dad came to my house
inquiring about what happened; he was a former police officer who knew the man
that attacked me very well. This former police officer gave me a good advice;
he said: “Angel, you are younger and stronger than
this guy; if you go after him after you get well, he will be able to get you in
jail. You should call the police and make a formal accusation, that way you
have something on record when the time comes to confront this guy.” I took the advice;
later, this man was fined by the court. However I still had a great desire to
hurt him.


For the next few months,
after my ankle was healed, I looked for ways to fight this guy. I would yell at
him, physically push him, etc. But, this man was terrified of me! The hate that
I carried in my heart for this man was very deep. Years later, as I moved to
Jacksonville, I still remember finding myself happy among a group of friends
and then the mention of his name would anger me in such a way that my mood
would change. I still verbalized threats against this man. This man was, by the
way, one of my late wife’s maternal uncles.


This man, many years prior to our confrontation,
publically humiliated my paternal grandfather, by slapping him. That did not go
well with my uncles, who took care of business very quickly in defense of their
dad. The hate grew; then, it was me and my little brother hating the man.
Bitterness was spreading like a deadly tumor…


To be continued…


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