From Here To There | Previous Challenge Entry

how it works

TITLE: From Here To There | Previous Challenge Entry
By Linda Lawrence
08/04/21
LEAVE COMMENT ON ARTICLE
SEND A PRIVATE COMMENT
ADD TO MY FAVORITES

“You don’t affirm me. . .” My son’s words stuck in my mind like a poisoned arrow. “Dad was always there for me.” His memories of his dead father had morphed into ‘the greatest man I ever knew.’

I had tried. Often. Emails, texts. But never a response.

Realizing he was still mourning, I opened my mouth to console, but he shut me out: “Don’t say anything!”

I extended my hand to rub his back or pat his shoulder, but he flinched? I thought he wanted my comfort? How was I to give ‘affirmation’? Which of us was the most confused?

We lived in separate states and Covid-19 squashed our family’s plans for summer and Christmas reunions. I continued occasional attempts to give words of encouragement over the phone even though they were met with unbelief or sarcasm.

Finally, a reunion was possible. The physical miles between us had not troubled me like the emotional distance. How I prayed that we could bridge the chasm between us.

I woke early and paced and prayed, rehearsing with the Lord what approach to take to humbly acknowledge my failure to give him what he needed from me. But what was ‘that’?

My mind was full of anecdotes that would explain why I valued humility and why it was hard for me to lavishly praise. I felt God was giving me an outline that would help me explain myself succinctly. My son has about 30 seconds of patience with my detailed, rabbit-trailed storytelling. Hopeful that my outline was inspired and God was with me, I grabbed my son as soon as he emerged from the bedroom. As he poured his coffee, I began pouring out my explanation. Never breaking contact with his widening eyes, words rushed forth unstoppable as I nervously talked a mile-a-minute. Suddenly my manic outburst was matched with his.

“Stop! Stop!” he pleaded, palms extended toward me. “What are you talking about? Where is this going?”

I slumped back, completely deflated. “I . . . I’m trying . . .” Choking back tears, I tried again. “I . . . Oh, I’m sorry. I can see this is hopeless.”

“No, Mom! But you have to tell me what you’re talking about? I have no idea. You’ve taken me from something that happened 20 years ago, to 10 years, to 30 years—from Hong Kong to Whittier to . . . ? Assertiveness? Humility? What are you talking about? I’m so confused! What’s your point?”

There it was, the question he always asked me? “What is your point?” My wordiness almost always became the point for him, distracting from the point I thought I was making. I expected the outline would keep me on track. I thought it was God’s gift to me. But God had something different in mind.

“I just want to know how you want me to affirm you,” I sadly sighed. I was ready to give up. My son would always be disappointed in me and I would always ache at my inability to make myself understood by him.

But my son, instead of running from me as I saw he wanted to do, stayed. He not only stayed but he was the one who pushed through our mutual confusion and talked to me. Miraculously, I simply listened.

“Mom, I don’t expect you to take Dad’s place. You and Dad—completely different! He supported me in his way and you support me in your way. I know you are always praying for me. Look at this visit! You anticipated what we wanted and needed. You show your affirmation in so many ways. I don’t need your anecdotes.”

What I mistook as arrows of accusation were actually cries of pain—pain at missing the special encouragement he received from his father’s confidence in him. He had no expectation of me filling his dad’s role.

“Your lifestyle, your peace, your contentment speak loudly. And I don’t need you to try to fix anything for me. You, just being you, is a steady unmoving rock for me and my family. So just relax!”

He is affirming me? What just happened? Was I the one desperately seeking affirmation? Honestly, I’m not quite sure. But what I do know is that God gave me what I most wanted from this reunion with my son—genuine joy through my son’s presence. For me, ‘presence’ is significant conversation--even if it is uncomfortable. The words are a blur but the warm hug and the lump in my throat affirm we both know we are loved.

PREVIOUS ENTRY | NEXT ENTRY
SUBMIT YOUR ENTRY FOR THIS WEEK'S CHALLENGE

The opinions expressed by authors may not necessarily reflect the opinion of FaithWriters.com.

Accept Jesus as Your Lord and Savior Right Now - CLICK HERE
JOIN US at FaithWriters for Free. Grow as a Writer and Spread the Gospel.