How Many Children Do You Have?

 

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