From Victim to Victor

by Glenna Heller

Marianne had called me her best friend. When she married Don in our late 30s, I wasn’t invited to the wedding. "My mother and brothers hate you." Her explanation cut into my heart like a knife.

This communication was one among a long line of infractions that I had endured from her since we were kids. On Kauai, I was learning to love, beginning with a profound appreciation for Self. Back in California gain, I was suddenly caught off guard; Marianne's treacherous tentacles got me again -- reaching all the way across the Pacific. She referred to an article that interviewed my first husband as she told our friend, "John said his first marriage was a disaster."

John and I had married when I was just a kid and divorced 3 years later. Our marriage had been premature; I was young. I had a difficult time communicating with him, and our sex-life suffered. But a disaster? Hardly. I loved John then, and I had been sad to leave. His father and mother, his sister -- I loved as my own. I’d bumped into him only once since then with his new wife.

Marianne’s words stung, and it seemed that I was powerless, victimized again. I turned to Spirit, asking that this circumstance be turned, and used for purposes of healing and love somehow. The alternative -- using the circumstances for my purposes -- would lead to making her wrong, being angry, and having an investment in being right. Once having made that request, there was nothing to do but wait.

I didn’t have to wait long. That same week, I went to lunch with a friend. In the waiting area of the restaurant, there they were, of all people: Patty and Ron. Many Saturday nights, Patty and Ron, John and I played bridge through the night. I hadn’t seen them since. I knew immediately something was up... wondering what Spirit had in mind. I could smell a miracle!

After initial greetings, Ron’s second sentence to me was news-breaking, "Have you seen John since you've been back in town?"

No, I hadn’t.

Ron was delighted that it was he to share the news. "He’s now a beautiful woman!" As Ron spoke of his interaction with John, all I could do was mutter, "Wow". During lunch, memories came back to me. I had been so certain that our life together was one particular way and now, with this new information, I was seeing something quite different. My perception shifted, and memories took on a new hue. I was taking my entire life into question...

I went home that night and looked in the phone book. A female’s first name with my former surname -- the only one in the book. Could it be? I drafted my first letter. Ripped it up. I asked God for some guidance; I knew I was to make contact. For some reason, I just wasn’t ready. I waited.

Within two weeks, the letter flowed from my pen. I began by speaking to the comment I’d heard from Marianne. I conveyed the deep respect that I held for John and, male or female, the respect was intact. Love is sourced by God, not by the body. I mailed the letter.

Returning from work, I saw a tall, lovely blond, dressed in a tasteful jogging suit, standing at my door. With outreached arms and tears in her eyes, a familiar voice betrayed the disguise.

"Hi. I’m Melinda." She hugged me. We spent the next several hours sharing our lives.

The guilt I had carried with me for the 30 years since our divorce had been formidable, though I had become expert in suppressing it. As we talked that night, the guilt bobbed up from the muddy pool of my ego, and forgiveness began to flow. I saw that each relationship I had after John had been caste in the shadow of this guilt. Now, old experiences began to flow freely and clean.

I can’t say that I understand transgendered folks. I don’t know what it’s like, or why it occurs that some of us are so apparently misplaced in body. I do know this: All of the traits that I had so admired and respected in John are alive still. Melinda now is a best friend. I am reunited with my family that I so loved as a young woman.

The miracle occurred: Spirit used the words of one I considered an enemy -- Marianne -- for the purposes of love. Wow, indeed.

© Glenna Heller October 1999