Debts

 

Dear Old Friend,

Since I wrote my last letter to you about the way your mother came to my rescue when I called her, I’ve been thinking about both of our mothers.  I wouldn’t describe either one of them as warm and fuzzy, although I would say that my mother might have had a slight edge over yours in that category; but your mother certainly had a kind and generous heart!  When my mother returned from Hawaii after losing the baby, she once again relied on that generosity and, as you recall, your mother opened her home to both of us. 

It seemed odd to be staying in your house without you!  As you’ve reminded me, your relationship with your mother was strained at that point, so you were living with your grandmother. There’s a lot I don’t remember about that time, but you have mentioned to me that, when you came to visit, you envied the relationship I seemed to have with my mother because you heard us giggling together in our room.  I was definitely happy to have her home, safe and sound.  I asked her whether Bill had done anything to cause her to lose the baby, and she assured me that he had not.  In fact, she said, he had been absolutely wonderful the entire time she was in Hawaii.  She described his attentiveness and concern in glowing terms. 

On one hand, I was thankful she had not been in danger; but, on the other hand, my suspicions appeared to be confirmed that I had been the thorn in Bill’s side all along.  With me out of the picture, he had apparently become the man my mother always hoped he would be.  I asked her why she came back, if things were so perfect; and she said they both agreed she needed to be with me.  I realized that this positioned Bill as the noble, self-sacrificing one and I was once more the obstacle in the way of my mother’s happiness; but, I was fourteen and I didn’t care; I was simply glad to have my mother back.

As I began to feel more stable, my grades and my attitude improved.  My mother found a job, and I began to look forward to a time when we could afford a place of our own.  So, about six weeks before the end of the school year, I was completely taken by surprise when my mother announced that she was going back to Hawaii.  I can’t honestly tell you what my reaction was on the outside, I may have cried and pleaded for her to stay, I don’t remember; but, on the inside, I emotionally shut down.  The immediate plan, my mother explained, was for me to remain in your mother’s home until school was out, and then I would go to stay with my grandparents for the summer.  What would happen after that was yet to be determined.

I clearly remember the day she left.  It was early May.  I had the flu, with a high fever. Everyone in the house was going out to dinner to celebrate your birthday and Mothers Day.  I was supposed to go with you, but I was too sick.  Your mother offered to reschedule, but there were too many people involved for the plans to be changed at the last minute.  So, after you left the house, my mother tucked me in bed, kissed me goodbye and took a cab to the airport.

That became a defining moment for me.  For more years than I want to admit, I used that moment, that image of my mother, suitcase in hand, walking out of my room and leaving me, sick and alone, as the wellspring from which I drew bitterness and self-pity.  Over and over I conjured up that moment to justify my hard-heartedness and unforgiveness.  I used it as a reason for entitlement. In my mind, my mother had, at that moment, created a debt to me which she could never repay.

Many years passed before I understood that I, too, had created scores of debts I could not pay; not only to God, but to those around me.  The brokenness which exists in each one of us causes us to repeat patterns we swore we would never repeat and to make poor choices even when we're certain we're doing the right thing.  This brokenness results in our wounding those we love the most. This brokenness creates debts we cannot pay; debts which could only be paid by the death and resurrection of the very Son of God.

I’m so grateful to know that truth now.  I wish I had learned it sooner.

Love Always,

Bonnie