Every year on Mother's Day my son would honor me with love,
He would buy me a pretty hanging flower and give me a hug.
But over the years some unresolved issues festered in his soul;
He asked for forgiveness but for some reason he never let it go.
Justification and rationalization built up inside until it erupted:
He angrily laid out reason after reason why he was disgruntled.
He blamed me for all the dysfunction he felt his life was in:
If he could have that day he would've blamed me for his sin.
In the days and months and years following those arguments,
I cried and prayed and fasted and asked my son for forgiveness.
Oftentimes I would push my palm into my face in disbelief:
"Why is this happening?" "I don't understand!?!" And weep.
As I stare at the empty flowerpot hanger shining in the sun,
I cannot help myself as I recall the love and hugs from my son.
It's not the missing flower that makes me break down and cry:
It's his dishonorable anger and attitude that has me horrified.
Great memories rewind in my mind as I look at the hanger;
Then I realize more and more how much my son is in danger:
My Christian son is going the wrong way on life's course;
And-after all this time-I finally understand: we're "divorced".
In the end, I gave the whole situation to God and now I wait:
Some day, I believe and trust he will return to me, by faith.
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