What you don't see is that sweet gray haired man with a close cut, that wears his coveralls, fishing hat and heavy work boots day in and day out shuffling in sadness. He's warm, welcoming and funny, just as he's always been, but when everyone has gone, and its just him and his black dog, Sonny, he walks a familiar path. This path leads down the hall to his room, standing in front of their closet, opening the door, to reveal neatly hung clothes. Hat boxes stacked according to size, shoes side by side on the floor below. With an admiring look, he grins softly, and pull several of his favorite outfits out and lays them neatly on the bed. He stands back, glances at her picture on the left hand side nightstand. He looks back to the laid out attire, and his mind drifts away into one special night when he and his wife went out for dinner, she wore that beautiful dress, with the brotch he gave her on her birthday fifty years ago, she was always classy and sentimental like that. He had gotten the door for her, helped her with her chair, and even snuck a kiss on the cheek when they left. Looking at the regular old, everyday clothes that she wore day in and day out helping him tirelessly on their peaceful farm. She sure looked as pretty as the day they met. How he longs to just hear her sweet voice, and to see her in those old blue jeans and striped shirt that had a stain on the right side. She was his very best friend. He scoops up all of the clothes in urgency, hugs them, and inhales the scent, hoping to get the smallest hint of her. It's getting harder and harder to do, it's been so long. Standing alone in the room they once shared, he cries as hard as the he did they day he lost her.
What you don't see is the mother standing with a phone in her hand, trying so hard to connect with the child on the other end of the line. So much love for that child, she has tried so hard to prove, and has been unsuccessful. The closed heart of her precious child won't allow reason to soften them at all. Wide-eyed, mouth frozen, heart hurting, she asks herself, "What have I done? What can I do?" She quickly flips thru the past, trying to connect any links whatsoever. Nothing. She has nothing. How could the sweet baby I swaddled and sang to be this way? How can the very child that made the sweetest sounds and had the most gentle tiny voice that would say, "Mommy I love you berry much" utter such hate towards me? I have been there for everything, wanting to be that constant in their life, and without a warning, suddenly I'm the enemy. Harsh words and bitterness is all that rests in the ears of the mother. Once her child finishes with the cruel speech, the line goes dead, leaving her slowing sitting down in the chair, pulling the phone from her tear stained cheek, looking at the phone once again. She clicks the phone off, runs her fingers thru her hair, her chest is tightening, the lump rises in her throat. She can't understand why her own child would be so hateful, why do they feel that they could say such things to her? She is their mother. After minutes of sorting, coming up again, empty handed, she slides into the floor, turning around, burying her face in her hands sobbing. Once she has enough breath, she begins, "Dear Lord, I come to you again, I love my child. My heart is breaking and I need your help...." she lifts this beloved child up to the Lord, she already had forgiven them before she ever uttered the first word, but begged God to help them in a way only he could. A prayer for a child by their mother is the sweetest of prayers, they are selfless and never ceasing. So while a wayward hearted child may kill the heart of their mother, her spirit and her love never dies, and when they thoughtlessly move on in their day, they don't do it without their mother praying to her God for them.
What you don't see is that young lady slowly dying on the inside. She gave away the one and only part of her that can never be recovered again. Suddenly upon leaving, she feels as though her eyes have been truly opened, and the lack of love from his eyes and cold embrace tells her she needed to know. Getting in her car to drive away, she knows that this will be the last time she will ever see him. She can't retract what has been done, but she wants to so badly. The realization that she is forever different, sets in. He moves on, she is frozen.Slowly driving down the gravel driveway, rocks clinking under her car, soft music streams into the air, her lip quivers. Eyes welling up with tears, "How could I have just done this? Why would I fall for what I see now is insincerity? How could I not mean anything to him?" Months later, she has still not shared this anyone. In the dark, face buried in her pillow, staining it with sorrowful, scared tears, a lengthy relationship, abruptly cut off, because the goal had been obtained. She should have been smarter, not let her guard down and been so naive. All she wants to do is wake up, to discover she is still that tiny girl with long brown hair, and the only worry she had enough room to set up her Barbie stuff for when her friends came over. Now her worry is if she will have enough room for a real baby crib. Time is drawing near, she must tell her Mom, but it hurts so much on so many levels. She's a teenager, but she, in these moments, is a terrified little girl, alone. Wondering what the future will hold for her and her new baby.
What you don't see is that man that always felt it a struggle to fit in. Insecure in almost every way, it wasn't hard to feel this way when even your parents zeroed in on you and your flaws. The walls in the family dining room each night felt as if they were closing in. "you'll never amount to anything. Why don't you follow in your brothers' or sisters' footsteps? They are so smart, and will go far....." Any achievement made is overlooked and dismissed as mediocre. There is no pleasing them. Why try? They say they love me, but they don't show it. They couldn't just be happy that I was happy. I got the education I wanted, work the job I love, yet, because it's outside the standards of my parents, it doesn't even register. Years I try to hold my head up high, be strong, but my life has slid downward, and without my noticing. My wife and I don't even live together anymore, I was and am so angry with my life, I took it out on her. Withholding my love for her, I chose anger. Never connected with my children. So I sit here playing back the last few years. What kind of life do I lead now? Not one that my family would approve of I'm sure. A ratty three room apartment, no furniture but a couch and a coffee table, with the picture of my kids, wife and myself just a couple years ago. Feels like forever ago, so much has changed. Everyone thinks I'm a waste of space, they tell me as much these days. I know I'm on the verge of loosing my job, and I don't know that I care. No one liked me there anymore, my frustrations were beginning to seep out. So why not just be done with it already? This question feels oddly logical at this point. Looking at a glass nearly full of my comforting, after hours beverage, a pill bottle full enough to send me into oblivion, this might be the answer. I would never see the look of disappointment in the faces of my wife or children again.I would never burden them again, and my family, well how I wouldn't miss the opinionated views they openly share with me. I am not scared of dying, I'm scared of it not working....I don't want to feel so empty anymore.
Maybe, just maybe if we don't just take the face value of things and look a little deeper, we could see much more. Scratch beneath the surface, and find a way to be a friend or a better friend or better family member. We advocate the Golden Rule, and yet we don't apply it. People are suffering in silence we don't even see, or bother to take up all the context clues of their lives and try to fit the puzzle together. So we must pray for those in our lives that we see openly suffering and those that are hidden.......and pray that we can be a beacon of hope and encouragement so that God's amazing blanketing love can shine in their lives so much brighter!
