Mom

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.