Submission

Every once in a long while, I fall to telling stories from ages ago. There are moments, years even, from my days, which stand out in stark tragedy against the generally sunny backdrop of my life. I find this hard to do. It is a vulnerability that I am uncomfortable with.
How can I share stories without weighty emotion? The echo of those memories is quite strong, but not overpowering anymore. I can remember sorrow and grief without spinning into despair. Time is good that way. The events get folded into me.

My ex-husband is living in town.
Those of you who have been with me for a while, have heard bits and pieces of those days long gone: drug addiction, and violence, and betrayal. It's quite a story.

J', (we'll call him J'. Even those who are not so innocent can stand a bit of protection.)
He's been clean and sober for a while now. Two years, I think. And he is moving, bit by bit, back into polite society.
M' is interested in knowing his dad. D' is really not. Now, because I have sole legal custody, I have a bit of freedom to oversee the kids and their comfort level with this man. He had been utterly absent from their lives for a long time, like 5 years. They neither heard from him, nor saw him.
Now he wants a relationship with them.

I came from a divorced family, you know. My family shattered when I was 10. October of 1980, if I remember correctly. I know what divorce does to a kid.

My step-mother died when I was in my early 20's. My mom went to my dad's house to bring some food, and they greeted one another with a hug. Even as an adult, this simple sight gripped my heart. How I longed, even then, to see my parents together!
There's a mysterious something that a child feels for a parent. We long for their approval, and for their involvement. We love them, no matter what.
My boys are no different.
And so J' has come to M's lacrosse games. It's a tenuous beginning.

I have always been honest with the boys about their dad. They know most of his story, as it's their story, too. The very most shocking elements have been, not diluted, but shared in age appropriate terms. I have insisted on their respect for him.
It's crucial to respect those whom God commands us to respect. Respect does not have to be earned. Respect is an act of obedience, to benefit the one doing the respecting, and not necessarily the one being respected.
The boys may ask honest questions about their father. They may also speak of their concerns or memories or emotions, but they may not be derogatory, nor contemptuous. They look him in the eye when he speaks, and they respond to him as "sir."
They also understand that they must develop a relationship with him based upon who he is, and not on who they would like him to be. This is important. J's future is uncertain, and his past is a shame. To love this man means accepting his weaknesses and limitations. It means respecting someone who has never earned it. It also means that the boys bare their chests to the very real possibility of further betrayal.
But, it also affords grace. My children extend, to an undeserving man, a very tangible example of God's Grace. They gain a deeper understanding of Who God Is, and His relationship to all of us sinners.
J' has a chance to actually become respectable, and to learn more of Jesus through the love of those whom he has most hurt.
That's powerful.
I hold my breath to observe the intensity of it. For me, all fear and desire to protect must be Godward. Any bitterness. or shade of suspicion from me, will only harm those I would wish to shelter.
God be Praised. He can take even the worst consequences of sinful man, and weave them into beauty.