Alright; here goes nothing. I know you are saying, right about now something like, you were a horrible kid. You had no reason to hate your dad just for that. Well, I didnít tell you the whole story. I wanted to tell you that it was as much my fault and tell you about my wonderful mother before I got to the rest of my childhood; particularly the years of mid to late teens. I told you that I began to question why some things were the way they were. I actually first started to question when I was about eleven years old. My mom always told me stories of when she was a young girl; especially her high school years. She was valedictorian of her class and got a full college scholarship. She wasnít able to go as she broke her back at age eighteen. She was riding in an old coupe that didnít have a back seat. She was where the back seat was supposed to be. The driver went over some railroad tracks real fast and it threw her up against the roof of the coupe and broke her back. She had a long recovery and when she did recover, the college would not honor her scholarship. So, she never went. The family could not afford to send both her and her brother to college.
Did I mention she was quite a beautiful young woman. She used to show me pictures of herself at eighteen, nineteen, and twenty-one. She was gorgeous! I used to ask her; what happened! She didnít like that very much, so I quit asking that question. Imagine that! Well, the point was, I began to question what happened to her. Not that she got older, put on a few pounds, or the years took a toll on you kind of thing. What I mean is, I could tell from the pictures, that she really took great care and concern how she presented herself and how she looked. She wore make-up and jewelry.
The mom I knew wore the same clothes for twenty years. Never updated her wardrobe, didnít wear make-up, rarely wore earrings or jewelry; didnít care! To me it seemed like two different people. Was it the wreck or was it not going to college? What changed her? She used to also tell me stories about working for a Doctor in town. She worked for him as sort of a receptionist and Doctorís helper. She worked in a soda shop practically running it and eventually worked in the post office. This was back in the 40ís. Women werenít allowed to work in post offices. She told stories like she practically ran it herself. Point is; she was a very self-confident, intelligent, good looking young woman any man would think was a prize to catch.
The mother I knew was very lacking in self-confidence, worried about everything, and was sick a lot. As a child; I learned very early on how to do things in the kitchen because she often would be in bed sick. I learned also how to play quietly by myself so as not to bother her. Donít get me wrong now. Despite these issues, she was always there for me, at every ballgame, my best friend, and never failed to see I had everything that I ever needed. I just saw two different women. The woman she was then and the one I saw now. I wanted to know what happened. She never explained it.
At age eleven, something happened that began to show me what happened to her. Or at least for the first time in my memory, I understood what was happening. My mom did something my dad thought was wrong or annoying. He began to put her down and berate her with his words making her cry and retreat to her bed. I was angry! I started yelling at him to stop and leave her alone and why was he doing that to her? He told me to stay out of it; and told me to take out the trash and donít come back in the house.
I took him at his word. I took the trash out and kept on going; I ran away. As I left the yard and I was crying, I could hear him yelling at her and putting her down some more. I just started walking. I didnít know where I was going. Three times I saw him driving around looking for me. Once, I could even see that he was crying too! I hid from him and kept on walking. I know that I walked for hours. I actually walked almost every area of the town of about 25,000 people.
About half-way through my journey, a little white Maltese dog started following me. I tried to get him to go away, but I finally gave up and let him follow me. I thought it was strange then and even stranger now how friendly and attached to me that dog seemed to be. He wouldnít leave me. He licked my face, jumped into my arms, and acted like he had known me all of my life. He was a real comfort to me though; I know that much. I was scared. I had never been away from home before where my parents did not know where I was or who I was with. I hadnít felt this scared since I pranced into a room meeting two people who said they wanted to be my parents and wondering what kind of people these two would be.
I didnít question it then, but later I had some ideas on the matter. That dog comforted me like I had never been comforted before, except by my mother. He and I finally ended up asleep behind one of the grade schools. I donít know how long I had been walking, but I was so tired and fell asleep with this white Maltese curled-up against my stomach. I would later get a white Maltese male dog for my greatest gift from the pound. I told him I thought they looked like little angels!!! Get the hint.
This dog and I were awakened at five AM in the morning by a spot light and a gentle touch from a cop who said ďson, what are you doing out here this time of nightĒ? My mother always taught me to be honest. I wanted to lie to him, but I told him that I ran away. I did not tell him why. He put me in the front seat of the cop car. Before he closed the door, he asked me another question ďis this your little dogĒ? Again, my mother always taught me to tell the truth. I was trying to say ďyes officer; that is my dogĒ, but it came out ďno sir, he just followed meĒ. He said, it probably belongs to someone around here, we better leave it here. I donít know why to this day, but I did not argue with him or say anything. Also, when we pulled away you would think the dog would run after us for a while or he would look all sad to be left behind. I was struck by how happy he looked and he just looked at me and turned away. He then walked the opposite way.
I was to think about that dog a lot for a very long time and even to this day I think about him. For two weeks, I went walking around the town looking for him and asking everyone if they knew anybody who had a male white Maltese. No one knew of anyone and I never found him. I cried for two days feeling guilty that I left him behind like that after what he did for me; comforting me the way he did when I was very lonely and hurting. I want to say that I donít really believe too much in appearances by angels, but I got to tell you. After searching for him for two weeks in a small town and not finding him; I believe God sent him to me to comfort me. Whether it was truly an angel or just a dog I never found, I prefer to believe my guardian angel asked God for permission to come to me for just a little while. Also, the way he let me go with that policeman was odd to me. He did not try to protect me or try to get in the car with me. He just watched like none of it was a surprise to him.
I was saved by grace on the last day of a revival when I was nine years old; two years before this event took place. I took seriously my decision. For an eleven year old boy, I was quite serious about God. I had read a little about angels. I believe it was an angel and still do today! Godís been watching over this rebellious sinner for quite a long time. I too have always felt my motherís prayers wherever I went. I am convinced her prayers covered me many times. What a God I serve! One who cares for me that much to comfort a eleven year old boy trying to teach his dad a lesson. I wish I had learned the lesson when I was a dad. I learned it too late for my greatest gift. God is not surprised by what happens to us. He is not overwhelmed, shocked, and nothing is too big for Him. Even to send an angel down from Heaven to an eleven year old boy to comfort him or to help you out of any problem you might be in.
He is the source of every mercy.
The God who comforts us.
He comforts us in all our troubles,
So others will be comforted by us.
Everything that is good comes from him.
He will generously provide for our needs.
In our suffering, we find his comfort.
As we groan for our pain to be released .
We will not be crushed or broken,
By our pain and suffering.
He will never abandon us,
Heís not surprised by our need.
What we suffer now cannot compare,
To the later glory he has prepared.
Even the powers of Hell,
Canít keep his love from our despair.