How many children do you have? It’s a pretty common and
simple question but I never know how to answer it. If I don’t want to go into
explanations, I simply say one. I do have one child, my daughter, but if I
answer “one” it always feels like I have just denied the existence (if past) of
my other child, my son. It gets further complicated when they ask if I have
grandchildren and, if yes, are they here in the area. I have one here and one
in Florida, and then it gets confusing. “If you only have one child here, with
a child, then how did you end up with one in Florida?” Lest someone think my poor daughter abandoned a
child in Florida, I then have to explain the grandson in Florida is the son of
my deceased son. Maybe it would be easier to just say I had two children but
one of them died, to deal with that awkward pause where no one knows what to
say, and then add “it was a long time ago,” as if that somehow meant it was
inconsequential or that it doesn’t hurt anymore. Neither is true. It is not inconsequential and it does still
hurt, a lot.
So I have decided
that in my heart and in my mind that I am the mother of two and I’ll deal with
awkward pauses because every once in a while there is someone out there whose
heart is still shredded over losing one of their children, still in pieces even
though the world has gone on and assumes they have also. It is the elephant in
the room no one wants to talk about. It is easier to get the elephant to move
outside, if never away, when you are free to acknowledge that it’s still there,
no matter how long it’s been. No one
knows that better than another parent whose child has died. People I’ve met for
the first time have opened their hearts and admitted their hurt simply because they
knew I would not tell them, “It’s time to get over it.”
My son was a lot of things; perfect was not among them. I
guess you could say he got that from me. We both seem to always find the
hardest way to do things when the easiest way was obvious to anyone but
us. He did not die from his addiction,
although it was a part of it. He died in a survivable car accident because he
wasn’t wearing a seatbelt and was thrown out of a car he was driving. Forgiving him for all the trials he put me
through was easy. Forgiving him for
leaving me has been a bit harder.
I went to a Women of Faith conference with a friend and a
bus full of ladies from her church. One
of the ladies, when learning my son had died, asked me, “Was he saved?” I could honestly say, “Yes, he was,” but did
not add “not because of me.” That might
not be true, but it was how I felt.
My kids went to Vacation Bible School and Sunday School, and
my son used to go to sleep listening to Bible story tapes my brother had given
us. When they got older, neither of my kids was interested in attending church
and I didn’t make them. It wasn’t until my son was going to AA/NA meetings at a
halfway house that he accepted Christ and took communion for the first time.
Even then, after hours of praying for him, I could not pray with him. A friend said
I could claim to have laid the foundation that the young men in his AA group
built upon. I hope that’s true, but I will not claim a victory that isn’t
completely mine.
Sometimes you get to put the angel on the top of the
Christmas tree and sometimes you’re just the one who cut it down and dragged it
out of the woods. The thing is, whichever one you are, you still play a part in
the beautiful result, even if a result you may never see.
My life has been messy.
I have made mistakes in raising my children, in my marriage, and in my
finances. I have not made a mistake in following Christ, and because of that I
do believe that I can become better than I have been every single day.
I’ve learned that if you are not wearing the mask of
perfection, the flaws and trials you have overcome will attract others who are
struggling. It is so much easier to accept help from someone who has not just
been there but come out stronger on the other side.
Who could you help if you weren’t trying so hard to appear
perfect?
Who out there is crying out for help with an issue you’ve
already overcome?
It’s time to be real not only about who you are but also
about who you were. We don’t brag about how “bad” we were we brag about what
God has done to bring us out of our past hurts and mistakes.
Deuteronomy 30:1 “And when all these things come upon
you, the blessing and the curse, which I have set before you, and you call them
to mind among all the nations where the Lord
your God has driven you
