Mom died Monday night. The circumstances of this death are not what
most needs to be told. I am not glad
that she is gone but this family drama has long needed to have a page
turned. Mom and Dad entered this world
at the beginning of the last century, coming under the influence of a newly
birthed Protestant denomination that, with other denominations, reacted against
the closed religiosity of that day.
These new denominations emphasized the work of the Holy Spirit, bringing
God down to men "to set the captives free” (Luke 4:18). These new denominations gathered together
into two movements or traditions, the holiness movement and the charismatic movement
in America.
Mom and Dad lived the tenets of the
holiness movement, a gathering of like believers that quickly was to become
their first family. The outer world was
of little concern except as a field to be evangelized, this drama was to
consume most of their energy. Bob and Margie
were very much a success among their greater family, Dad preached to the people
from his heart and with a style that said my journey is your journey, this is the
way to approach God. Mom played the
piano and sang the songs of the Hymnal like a soprano bird, her voice was not
like all the others and carried an authority that was captivating.
They
were a great ministry team for the church and the greater family, who praised and
honored them their entire lives, including Mom’s 95 years on this earth. This is and was, as it should be for they
were blessed and were a blessing to thousands of people through their gifted ministry.
This
also was not the entire story for they had another family, three sons. The circumstances of one’s birth are as varied
as the sands on the beach and the genes that combine to give every human being
an individuality, a uniqueness, in the midst of challenge. We all have our uniqueness as a gift from God and
our challenges are just as much a gift from God but they leave us with the mostly
unanswered “why” question. Some of us
appear “luckier” than others to be challenged by the lesser challenges which seem
less of an influence.
The
first son of Bob and Margie was challenged by a difficult birth blocking oxygen
to the brain that proved to be debilitating throughout his 53 years on this
planet. Why were the second and third
sons spared such a fate? The answer of
course, in a limited sense, is that we were not spared and that like all
persons under the sun, the challenges are only different.
There is an old saying with some truth
to give us, it says, “don’t speak ill of the dead”. If the speaking is done from a selfish bitter place, silence should rule the day but covering up the truth of a life lived robs the next
generations of learning lessons, both positive and the negative life
priorities of their ancestors. As best
as I understand my motivation it is to bring truth to the discussion of my
departed parents.
It
must be said that whatever liabilities they tolerated in their own lives, each liability
was probably learned from their own parents and the circumstances of their own birth. Also, my words are mine alone and no other family
member should be held accountable for them, only me, the infamous second son.
This label is well deserved for my
history is replete with doing the wrong things, at the wrong times, for the
wrong reasons. This propensity will
probably remain a part of my life, even in these twilight years. However, it has taken a life time to come to
grips with where this all began. While
living it I had no clue. The short
answer is that I wanted and needed to be valued in the eyes of my father, to
sit at the dinner table to talk and eat, to hear him ask, how did school go
today? One time, just once I would want
to have heard him ask, what do you think about this or that, son? You know, that small talk that says we’re in
this together. It never happened.
Being the silent compliant son did
not get the attention of either of my parents so I became the rebellious black
sheep of the family, messing up every real opportunity that happened my way. Looking back, this too was a failure for it
produced not a single word of response, reproach or anything from my parents. In my mind I can hear them bemoaning their son, “what he
needs, only God can give. When and if he
gets saved and sanctified, then we will have our son.” No, Mom and Dad, you needed to have had at
least a friendly relationship with your children. Your emotional life and relationships were all
about the mission field but I do not remember you ever praying with your own
children. Something was amiss.
I like to think that this part of my
heritage was not passed on to my children but it was the mother of our children who refused to let me be detached. Zac
and Kristin were both adopted and each struggled in their own way to know of their
birth parents and each has wonderfully made that connection. Not knowing was the issue, they considered
that the “worst”. I would like to
respectfully disagree, the worst is knowing and being ignored for some greater
good, that is the “worst”, to be ignored.
Thank you, blog, for giving me the
opportunity to get this off my chest and turn the page, finally, hopefully,
maybe. Enough said.
G.Goslaw
Landers, Ca.
