Nothing beats coffee with a friend

I finally got the courage to talk to one of my friends, face-to-face.

And she told me that if my son were to knock on her door, she’d welcome him with open arms. And she’d invite him in, and sit him down at her table and eat a meal with him.

Those were words that I needed to hear – that someone who has known my son for many, many years would still welcome him, would not turn her back on him.

And that night, another friend called and we went to coffee together. It was good. I talked to her, and was able to share some of my pain. She listened, without judging, to me express my anger, my disappointment, my hurt.

And she told me, bluntly, that I could not take any blame for my son’s lifestyle.

But…when I know that my son is looking for his soulmate, for the person who completes him, for the person he wants to share his life with, and he’s looking for that in another man, and not in a woman…how can I not wonder what it was that I did that makes him not want to seek love with a woman??? 

It’s  a rhetorical question – but an honest one. It’s what is going on inside me right now.

A hurricane of a different sort

I moved for my 30 minutes today – that is, if you count working in the yard. Actually it was over an hour of hauling limbs and branches. My arms ache!

We are still in Ike-recovery. The hurricane was a little over 6 months ago, and we are still trying to take care of storm damage. It is a shock to my spirit to see so many trees broken at the top. I am curious to see what it is going to look like when the trees are fully clothed.

I feel as if I have experienced another hurricane – an emotional one.

Not only has our son told us he is homosexual – but he is an activist. We live near the 4th largest city in the nation.  And our son is president of that city’s gay-lesbian-bi-transexual political caucus. Our TV news and the ‘big’ newspaper are based in that city. He has been on the news twice recently, and was interviewed in the paper. We know people have seen it.

I feel like I’ve been punched in the stomach.

Lord, I know you are still here. I know you care about Kris. I know you love him even more than we do. Lord, my heart cries out to you. I don’t know what to say. You know the anger I feel. You know how I hurt. I am anguished, Lord and I am crying. I just want you to take all this pain away. But even more than that, I want Your will to be done. I want You to be glorified in this. So help me to bear this pain, help me to resolve the anger and let it go, help me to be brave and full of grace. Help me to love him as You do.

Heartbroken and hurting

For the past few months, my heart has been heavy. I am trying to deal with something I never thought I’d be called to do as a mother.

I listened as my son told me “I’m gay.”

I did not even want to listen to him. It was very difficult for me to reconcile the words coming from his mouth with the image of him – as a young man, as MY SON. But no matter how much I want to deny it, to close my ears and not hear, to pretend he never said those words…I can’t. It is a reality we are having to muddle through. 

The truth is—he is still my son. I still love him. Those were the first words out of my mouth to him, and also the first words his dad – my husband – said to him when he was told. 

I know we’re not in this alone. I know that God is walking right here with us. And I know that while my husband cannot understand my anger, my hurt, my tears…God does.

I know God is faithful.

I know God is sovereign.

I know God still loves my son.

I know that, somehow, God will be glorified. Even if it’s just by the way we depend on Him.

And I know that that same young man who sat and told me he is gay is the same person who, as a child of 8 years, invited Christ to live in him. 

God is not going to abandon my son, and neither am I.

Praying with all my might…

Victory!!!

Not only did I do my 30×5 yesterday – 20 on Wii Fit, 10 playing with the dog…but…are you ready?

As you can see, I managed to (after ump-teen times of trying, a few choice words, and even some tears) get the button on my blog!!!

Thanks, Linda, for sending me to Blogging Basics 101.

I feel a sense of victory…which I am going to hang on to as long as I can, because I have a very difficult post to write and relish even the whiff of a victory.

I’m in for the 30×5 challenge

But, because I am a blog neophyte and cannot figure out how to put the button here, I’m going to link to 2nd Cup of Coffee’s site and you can see what the button looks like. Sorry! Thanks, blog, for making me feel like an idiot. At 6:30 AM.  Great way to start the day.

Yesterday I did Wii tennis for 15 minutes, then played soccer with our dog, Crayola Box, for 20 – so, 35 minutes in all.

Still my child

One of the most difficult things about being an empty-nester is watching your adult children make choices with their life that you do not agree with.

Not only might you not agree, but you  know…you KNOW…that their choice is wrong, and against everything you believe.

We are going through that now with one of our children. This child has made a stand that goes against our spiritual and moral beliefs.

But…this is still our child, the one I gave birth to, the one we diapered, the one we disciplined, the one we watched walk through the doors of elementary, intermediate, and high school, the one who brought tears to my eyes when we dropped this child off at college, the one we cheered at graduations.  This is the same child who has brought so much pride to my life and who gave their own heart to Christ at 8 years.

I cannot change the mind of my child, and I cannot make their decisions. I have to accept…not approve, but accept…this choice.  I have to let God be the one who convicts my child their choice is wrong.

But my heart is breaking.

She’s gonna kill me if she reads this.

A blog entry I read here reminded me of something that happened when my own daughter was in high school, the spring of her junior year.

She’d been getting all sorts of college catalogs and brochures in the mail, and would be excited about the possibilities of each one.

Well, most of them.

I found a packet on the table, unopened, from Oral Roberts University.

I asked her why she hadn’t opened it.

She said…

“Mom, I don’t want to go to a dental school.”

And all is well…

…sort of. We’re talking again, and apologies have been exchanged. The relationship seems to be where it was before.

In fact, we’re getting to spend time together this weekend, at my aunt’s house. Not looking forward to the 3+ hour drive, but I’ll have my iPod going loud.  I usually don’t like music or the radio on in the car when I’m driving locally.

But on trips, when I’m alone?

Lord, have mercy.

If you see a woman driving down I-10 across Texas singing her heart out, that’s me.

Trouble in Paradise

This afternoon, I had to have a conversation with one of my children about a very volatile topic.

This child is now very upset with me.

And I am not handling it well.

As my children have grown, they have become more of a contemporary, a friend, someone to have adult conversations with, rather than ‘just’ one of my children.

So, when we once again have to revert to a parent-child conversation, and the ensuing result is one of the participants acting like a child, it’s hard to take.

I think I much prefer relating to them as adults at this point in life, rather than as a parent.

Slumdog

It’s not often that we go see a movie while it’s still actually in major theaters. But I had heard so much about Slumdog Millionaire that I talked Mark into going while we were visiting our daughter.

Like The Passion of the Christ, it’s not a movie you can really say you ‘enjoy’ seeing. It’s not a light movie, it’s not fun, it’s not entertaining.

It is, however, a thought-provoking, eye-opening movie.  Until I began working at the clinic, I never really saw poverty. And the poverty I see now is nothing compared to the slums of India and, I’m sure, other third-world countries.

Yes, the violence in the movie is hard to see, as is the lifestyle of the characters. It’s hard to imagine real people living like the way these characters do, particularly as young children. But sometimes I think we close our eyes and turn our heads from things that are hard to see, and we miss some really important lessons.

Life is not easy. It is not fair, it is not soft and gentle, and it is not always pretty.

But if we choose to look away from those things that are hard to look at, we will not realize how blessed we are. 

And I am blessed.