It's almost like a death

I was seven years old when my sister, Linda, picked me up from school. I was in the first grade in Mrs. Parton's class. My father had died. Before I knew what was going on he was gone.

For years I've had dreams about my dad. In almost all of them I would see him and ask him where he's been all this time. I needed him and he was gone.

All through my childhood - especially my teenage years - I missed him terribly. Without him I floundered from one bad decision to another. I really missed him. I needed him. A son needs his dad.

It's a wonder I survived. Several of my friends did not.

No, it's not a wonder. It's the grace of God, the unmerited grace of God. There's simply no other way I could have been so blessed with such a great family.

That's why my son's leaving has been so hurtful. I didn't see it coming. Before I knew what was going on he was gone. It's almost like a death.

Before you think I'm being overly dramatic, try my shoes on for a while.

Raise a son. Nurse him through childhood diseases. Coach his Little League team. Homeschool him. Video tape him at seven years old giving a "sermon" at an event for the local home schoolers. Drive all over the state to watch him play basketball. Be a buddy to him. Watch him grow into a young man. Be proud of him for the man he is becoming, kind and gentle.

Then have him vanish in anger without so much as calling to let us know he's safe.

Watch his mother play and re-play his last message on the answering machine just so she can hear his voice.

Then tell me it's not almost like a death.

I know in all likelihood this is only a temporary situation. I have complete trust in God that Wes will be reconciled to his family.

But right now it's almost like a death.

Thank you all

I've had several friends and family members ask me how things are going with my son.

God bless you all and thank you for your concern and prayers. Please continue to pray.

It's a difficult situation for us. I will try to post more as I'm able. I had planned on using this blog as therapy for myself in this situation. I assumed, given the flood of thoughts and emotions I'm experiencing, it would be easy to fill up a blog with posts.

But it's the flood that's the problem. There are so many conflicting thoughts and feelings that it's difficult to harness it all into a coherent post. Anguish, despair, hope, faith, love, doubt, fear, and much more; I feel them all.

Thankfully though, I'm confident all things will be well. I serve a God that is able. I placed my family and all our hopes and desires in His hands long before this happened. I will not faulter. I will not faint. I believe, Lord, help Thou me in my unbelief.

Again, thank you all for your concern and especially for your prayers. Please continue.

Also, I encourage you to comment. That's one of the great things about a blog.

Reach 'n Grab, Children

"Reach 'n grab, children. Reach 'n grab. Make yourself at home."

Zellie Isaac would always say that with a smile while she was putting food on the table. She was happy to feed us. And feed us she did! Southern cooking at its best, for sure.

A typical meal would include pork chops, green beens, fried potatoes, corn, corn bread or maybe bisquits and fried apples. I'm telling you, I don't care what part of the world you come from. You could not sit still and eat that stuff. It was incredible. Zellie was a great cook and she loved to feed family and friends.

And Zellie was a great friend.

Who is Zellie? Zellie is my wife's 2nd or 3rd cousin or something like that. I'm not sure really. But to me she was like an aunt.

I was barely 22 years old when I moved to Kentucky. I was amazed at how close my new wife was to all her family. I would joke that she knew her 6th cousins better than I knew some of my 1st cousins.

And it's true. I have 1st cousins who still live within 20 miles of where I grew up and I can't tell you anything about them other than their name and how they are related to me. I know some better than others. But there's only a very few that I know well enough to know their spouses or children.

Things are different here, though. We would travel 40 or 50 miles to visit with Zellie and her children, Ray and Tiny, and their families. It was always fun. I'll never forget it. It has become a part of me. I look back on those days like I look back on my childhood. It was part of my growing up.

I was a young adult and already married when I met Zellie, her husband, Ed, and their children. But they were an important part of a life change that took place in me - a growing up. They were part of what made me come to realize just how important family is. You're grounded and settled when you belong to a family. You're somehow safe.

Zellie died yesterday morning. She will be sorely missed. But she will never be forgotten.

God bless you, Zellie, and your whole family!

I Apologize

I want to apologize for acting like an idiot last night. There is no excuse for my actions and attitude. I'm supposed to be an example of Christ-like behavior for my children and anyone else who might notice.

Last night that all went out the window. Rather than following Christ, I followed my own faulty heart. I let my natural emotions get the better of my spirit. The result is an insult to Christ and damaged feelings all around.

I pray that result will, by the Grace of God (it can only be by the grace of God), be reversed. I pray hearts are healed, minds are changed, and peace restored. Not only that peace be restored, but that a more blessed environment be established than before.

God can do that. It's what He does best.

My heart is broken. I'm so ashamed of myself.

Please forgive me.

I Never Imagined

I never imagined this would be my first "family" post. I assumed my first post on this blog would be a light, fluffy introductory posting.

Not so.

Last night, Wednesday, July 19, 2006, my 18 year old son decided in a fit of anger that he "would never sleep another night" in our house.

Of course his fit of anger was matched by my own. What a pathetic excuse of an example to a young man! There was even a bit of a wrestling match, which is pretty stupid on my part even if you ignore the "role model" aspect I was supposed to be displaying. I'm almost 5' 10" and beginning to feel my age. My son is almost 6' 4", athletic, and beginning to feel his age.

In response to his declaration of independence, I told him he would not be allowed back into the house until he cleared it with me first. Of course that was a lie, the implication anyway.

How did it ever come to this? I was supposed to be the "good cop" in our family environment. His mother has always been the worrier, concerned about this friend or that activity. Her sometimes accusatory probings often resulted in arguments between the two. I was the one who always tried to remind her that Wes is a genuinely good boy and that he was not lurching to the dark side.

I would also try to convince my son that he should respect his mother even if he disagreed with her and was upset with her. After all, she is his mother.

It's not that we have a brawling family. The vast majority of the time we truly enjoy one another's presence. We have fun together. But occasionally ...

I thought last night would be just like the other times. Mom was mad. Wes was mad. I would try to calm the situation. I only meant to plead to his hopefully still existent sense of respect for his mother. But I detected disrespect toward me.

For some reason that set me off. I have a temper, too! I've tried to work on that for years now. By God's grace I almost never lose my temper any more. I thank God for that. It's truly been a blessing to our family. But I'm not perfect in that area and there have been tantrums scattered through the years.

I shoved. He shoved back. We wrestled around on our feet a while. Then, thank God, we stopped as I think neither of us wanted to escalate the situation.

I'm so ashamed. I'm so sorry.

I'm going to let him do whatever he wants to do. He's 18. What else can I do? But I hope to see him this evening as I take some of his things to him at his friend's house. I pray that he will be willing to receive my apologies. I pray that I can communicate them well and with all humility.

I pray that he understands he is ALWAYS welcome in our home. It's his home, too.

If anyone reading this knows the Lord Jesus Christ, and if you are so inclined, please pray that healing comes to our home. This is not the way I imagined sending my son off into the great, wide world.