As a preface .. I will tell you that this is not an exposé about
my mom … instead it’s my hope that you see yourself as you read about her. This is about a magnificent transformation. In order to do that I must reopen some old
wounds .. but I am trusting that God will use that to minister to someone who
needs hope and assurance.
I should start at the beginning. But there are really 2
beginnings. The first one is natural and the second supernatural. My mom was certainly not perfect. Well perhaps
she is today in the presence of our Lord, but in the first beginning while
walking this earth she was lost and bound for hell just like the rest of the
world. And after she was born again by faith, she was a cracked and chipped jar of clay,
just like the rest of those who call Jesus Lord and have experienced their own
second beginning. Not perfect by any means but sanctified and being conformed
into the image of the Son. I am getting ahead of myself, so let’s go back to
the first beginning.
My mom was one of 15 children. Her mother was from Ireland – staunch in her
Catholic faith. Her father was from
Germany – with respect to faith .. not so much.
My grandfather worked for the railroad.
The family was poor. I recall a story about the first time mom was
asked to recite the alphabet in first grade.
She stood and recited the alphabet and the whole class laughed at
her. You see, her father had taught her
the German alphabet. Mom didn’t finish
the 8th grade. Not that she
couldn’t have, she was very intelligent, but duties at home demanded that
she leave school in favor of caring for brothers and sisters.
When she was 18, she met a man and got married. She was desperate
to escape her life. To get out of that house.
Like so many before and after her, she did not choose marriage for love
or commitment but to escape a life that she resented. Doing the right thing for the wrong reason
typically does not end well. The man she
married, my biological father. Dad was drafted into the Army during WW2 and
fought in Europe in Pattton’s 3rd Army. (An interesting aside. I served on 3rd
Army Staff – Aviation Operations in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia during Desert Shield/Desert
Storm.) When my dad returned from the
war, he used alcohol to deal with his PTSD.
That eventually resulted in my mom divorcing him, but not until they had
three girls and a boy (that would be me).
She had a miscarriage or there would have been five of us. I remember mom visiting a grave but was too
young to understand that was my sister.
After the divorce, Mom, with four kids in tow, moved into
subsidized/welfare housing – it was called “the Housing” on the southwest side of town. Although my dad never stopped drinking he got
it under control. He was very bright, a hard worker and worked his way through an engineering
program. He was a design engineer for Caterpillar until he had a stroke
at 42 years old. I am taking a moment to
focus on this because broken marriages are the norm today. Don’t deceive yourself in thinking that “the
kids will be OK”. Divorce may be
necessary for a number of reasons , but that does not mean that the children
are not emotionally scarred because of it.
God ordained that the man and woman should be one. But because of sin, the relationship is corrupted.
Although vows are said in the ceremony, very often obedience and
commitment to God has nothing to do with it.
The result? Well, just take a look
around.
My mom carried a lot of guilt because of the divorce. I can remember talking to her one day, I
think I was in high school. I wanted to share how I felt about their divorce. (
I think that most children hope that one day their parents will get back
together. Unfortunately, it seems that hope is almost always an impossibility) She became angry and
told me to stop trying to make her feel guilty.
Strong message .. don’t tell people how you feel .. they don’t want to
hear it. Be careful how you respond to your children and others.
Mom remarried when I was four. She met a guy in a bar. They married and had three children . .so
that made seven all told. He did a great
job of taking care of us. Making sure we had food, clothes and a roof over our
heads. He got us out of the housing into
a home. 1200 square feet with three
bedrooms and one bathroom. With three older sisters occupying the bathroom before school, outside the bathroom door is where I first learned to dance! I will write
more about my second dad later. Mom had a
temper. It seemed there was always a lot of yelling, mom
and my older sisters. Door slamming. Face slapping. Crying. Profanity. The blend of Irish and
German makes for an interesting concoction.
When we were living in the Housing – we lived there until I was 6 years
old, I can remember sitting on the porch chewing on soap. That was because I had used
some words that little boys should not be using. Words that I am fairly certain
I learned from my mom. The same mom who gave me the soap to eat. Parents your children are watching you. Their values are caught not taught.
In my recollection, my mom was not affectionate toward the four older children
while we were living at home. I can
remember the ritual before we went to bed … we would all go to mom to say good
night. She would kiss the three younger
ones. When it was my turn, she turned
her cheek so I could kiss her on her cheek.
I don’t ever remember my mom kissing me.
What I do remember is her telling me “Stop that – you remind me of your
father.” The message was clear … you are
not like the other three .. I don’t love you as much … don’t be like your
father … he was no good and you are acting just like him. Pastor Rick Warren said “Hurt people hurt
people.” It’s true … but he also said “God
never wastes a hurt” and that is likewise true.
I know my mom loved me but the hurt from her first marriage was like a dark
cloud that kept her from expressing it.
And now, like Paul Harvey would say … "now for the rest of the
story" … Good News! There is a second beginning.
Next: Mom After Jesus - Her Second Beginning
Next: Mom After Jesus - Her Second Beginning
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