When I am angry it seems that God's presence evaporates, my delicate hold left grasping churning, throbbing emotions. But it felt righteous, this anger at my youngest son's father, and so I let myself feel it without letting it encompass me.
What mother wouldn't ache...for a child whose father says he'll call next week and make plans for Christmas Eve and take his son to see the grandparents he hasn't seen in years - and then doesn't call. What mother wouldn't ache...for a child who calls his father on Christmas Day and is told that the trip wasn't made after all, and then accidentally finds out that her child's father and half brothers went without him. What mother wouldn't feel anger...when her child's father says he'll call his son the day after Christmas and celebrate belatedly, but doesn't call. Again. He hasn't called in years, but he keeps saying he will, and my son keeps hoping.
Carman knew I was angry and hurt for him. Just as I decided to pick up the phone at work and apologize for my anger - an apology I knew he wouldn't think I should make -I had voice mail from my son.
"I've been thinking all morning about my dad," he said. "And I decided that it really doesn't matter to me now. I have other really good men in my life, like the men from Threads. Brian just called and he wants to take me out to breakfast and then come over and play guitar together."
No one would blame my 16-year-old son for feeling angry, or hurt or rejected. And yet he shows more wisdom then his mother. He lets go what he can't change. He turns his face towards what light he has been given in this world, the men who have shown him Christ in their kind words, the coffeehouse outings, testing the $150 car I bought him, stopping over and playing guitar for awhile.
So I will not give his father too much of my energy either, but focus instead on those who have brought such grace and love into my son's life. To all you men who say a few kind words and exchange a laugh or a hug with a fatherless boy, you have no idea how precious those brief encounters can be, or how grateful this mother is for you all.
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7 comments:
And apparently he has more wisdom than I. I wish I could learn to let the things go that I can not change, instead of letting them eat at me and hurt me again and again. You have raised a wise son, Anne;
xoxo
Karen, sometimes I think I've let things go, only to find that the scar is still there, and occasionally burns again. We are so very human...
I used to call Carman my little buddha. He was born with this old kind of soul. But I hope one day he allows himself to mourn what could have been, what should have been.
Anne,
My situation was very similar to Carman's. Being a father now, I don't understand how my father could have chosen to be so separate from me all my life. I can't imagine knowing my sons are growing up somewhere without me. I've come to the conclusion that Johnny (my dad) is just not equipped to deal well with the situation, and so to let it go and move on. I, too, had men from church who played an important role in my life. It's not the same, but it's something I'm very thankful for.
Blessings to you and Carman. It says somewhere that God takes care of the husbandless and the fatherless. I've seen it, experienced it, as I'm sure you have.
okay... now i know why we all seem so connected with one another... anne, carman's story is michael's story too.... david, your story is michael's story too... he also is fatherless... after years of trying to connect with his father, he has now settled into not having that relationship... all you can do is try, but you can't make someone else love you back... it's totally crappy, but it's true. the last contact michael had with his dad is when his dad called him after years of no contact and begged him for money. i could not believe it... i was physically ill. i ached for michael that day... it was some of the worst pain i've felt. the girls were there when it happened, and they wanted to know why i was crying... i told them, and they too, cried and hugged me and prayed for michael... they can't imagine a "father" doing that, when all they've seen from their father (michael) is LOVE, LOVE, LOVE. it's amazing to me that those that have no example at all can turn out to be the BEST fathers... michael is one of them, as i'm sure david is! :) and carman will be too! :) love to you, anne... you're a beautiful mother.
Darla, what heartache in all these stories, like Michael's, David's and Carman's, and yet what solace in being together, even in this venue. (And on the phone sometimes, which is a blessing!) Michael's story reminded me of one of my own. My dad was rather estranged from his own father. His mother had been institutionalized in a state hospital when he was in his young 20's. I wrote my granddad lots of letters after we moved out of state and one weekend he came and visited us. I was so happy! A short while after he left my mother said rather smugly to me, "You think he came because of you and your letters, don't you? He only came because he wanted to borrow money from your father." I think my mother thought I should know the truth, but it was crushing. But more than anything, my heart hurt for my dad. They did end up having contact later on, but always alone, never with family. And that's another story, and more to do with my mother. Michael is blessed to have a wife and children who cry for his pain. You are a beautiful woman yourself, Darla. God bless us all.
thank you for sharing that part of your story... i can feel the pain in that for sure... us mothers say some awful, hurtful things, don't we? i hope that in this new year, i can really be mindful of the spirit-crushing things that sometimes come out of my mouth... even the slightest things that so easily slip out... yes, God bless us all! :)
Darla, I hate when I say hurtful things. I hate even more when I know for a split second that I could not say it, but I say it anyway. I did that the other day under stress, and then had to go to my son repentant and ask his forgiveness. He always forgives me, which leads me to prayers that I will guard my mouth even more carefully. Sigh. Motherhood.
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