i have wept over last week's
blog. the courage to bare my soul.
not to bring people to the edge, but
to allow others to know the imper-
fections of life that no one usually
talks about. we hide behind the
shame. the fears of what others
my son gave me his permission
to do that blog. let me tell you
what has happened. one of his
brothers found out about his pain
where he lives out-of-state, and
i want you to come live with me.
my apartment has two bedrooms,
and one is for you. what will it take?
how quickly can i get you here, bro?
one brother to another.
my son who is visiting
was in such shock.
mom, what did you tell him?
i'm going into my room and closing
the door, and i want you to call
and see if he REALLY means this.
i made the phone call.
i really feel right about this, mom.
there is no hidden agenda. i want
him to come. this is what families
i call it a miracle.
a gesture of vast compassion
that most brothers don't do
when they are 20 yrs. old.
i think of my son in college
who calls me, and all his buddies
make jokes and noise.
well! hello, mrs. anderson.
mother of this geek over here.
my son laughs, and says ,
be quiet. i like talking to my mom!
and laughter erupts.
no alcohol or drug problems, yet,
but we never know where our children
are going to take us. nor life. but i
know families take work. and Jesus
is the blanket that wraps around us,
and holds us all together.
my children knew that until they were
18, all the rules were mine. but when
that birthday came around, they were
considered men. and their choices were
we marched down the church
aisle to the front row. i never looked
around, and my children were mortified.
but i didn't want them sitting with their
friends, and missing the beauty and power
of the service. before they were 18.
my youngest worked
at starbuck's. one early saturday
morning, after he had been out
late with his friends. having too many
beers, he was still non-functioning,
and had his face in a bowl of ice.
he could hardly walk, but i drove him
over, and he just happened to be
very blessed that he had Jesus on
his team, because, somehow, he
made it through his shift. only God
knows what people got in their
coffees and lattes.
if you want your children to tell
you what they are struggling with,
listen with no judgement. no sermons.
just quiet thoughtfulness. reaction,
which i've wanted to do many times,
would have forever changed the dy-
namic of our relationships.
with four boys,
there were so many different
girls coming and going that
i got lost in all the jennifers
and amandas and ashleys.
i often, privately, rolled my
eyes, but my lips were zipped.
a time to ponder
ALL God has given us.
it's a time for families and friends.
good food. and a song. the wind
pushing the music through trees and
across oceans and into the cracks of
pain in all our lives.
did you know that sin is all level
at the foot of the Cross? that God
considers pride maybe more serious
than all the other offenses.
i love the Cross.
that it is never too crowded
for all of us to find a spot.
ALWAYS, there is room
for one more.
with bowed head,
i kneel. i reach out and
touch the roughness of the wood.
see the stain of Blood.
remember, again, that Jesus came
for me. for you. and it is NOT about
perfection, but clean, pure, uncondi-
tional LOVE. scraped and dragged
across the stony path to the hill
where Christ's Blood gushed into
our miserable lives.
a piece of bread.
a touch of olive oil.
a sip of wine or juice.
celebrate the Blood because
without that vast, incomprehensible
gesture of torture and pain and love,
there would be no hope for all our wounds.