Last Thursday was a bad day. Well, what I consider to be a bad day. I've been in a funk, off and on, since early August when I lost my contract position in Texas. Being home is great, but it presents challenges. That being said, I MIGHT just be a bit more emotional that usual (which means off the charts emotional).
Anyway, I got up early to get my workout in, as I had a busy day ahead. When I opened the door I stumbled onto a MESS on the floor: bottles of both empty beer and unopened beer, bottle upon bottle of empty vodka, fireworks. These things littered the floor and were strewn, haphazard-like, all over the place. I didn't know what to think so I summoned Ric to come downstairs, thinking he had been doing some cleaning and discovered the mess in a hidden place. Instead, he was just as surprised as I was! And then he pointed to what I hadn't seen: a panel in the ceiling had gave way, spilling the "booty" onto the basement carpet.
I felt absolutely dumbstruck at what I saw. Making matters worse, Ric said something negative (that I won't repeat here), heaping more coals onto an already simmering fire.
But now was not the time to address my emotions; the task at hand was to clean up the mess and interrogate the suspects. Ric did the former as I attacked the latter. As Ric piled up the contraband, I began to text my three children. I sent pictures as well, not really waiting for explanations. I went to work like a skilled prosecutor, texting "GUILTY" as quickly as I could.
Allie, my youngest and most vocal, was the first of the three to respond, saying she knew nothing about it and was eager to "rightfully" take her throne as the golden child. James fessed up first, followed by Joseph. From receipts that were also found, it looked like the stockpile of items had been there for about 9 years or so. Joseph tried to make things better by saying "we were so young," but that actually made things worse for me; 17 and 14 year olds drinking vodka and hiding the bottles from their mom? Where had I gone wrong as a parent?
The timing of this episode was interesting because, just the day before, I had been talking to a friend about our collective parent guilt. We made each other feel better by concluding that even the best of parents can have troubled kids (which is true). I have always known this in my head, but my heart has never quite caught up. I'm sure countless parents can relate, even mine.
As Ric cleaned up the physical mess, I was left alone with the emotional one, as I often am. As he carried the vacuum upstairs and emptied bottles into a nice, neat heap in the recycling bin, deeming everything clean, things still felt messy to me as I wallowed in the filth of my memories. Pain, hurt, anger, guilt, regret, what ifs, they flooded into my mind all at once. If only my feelings could be discarded as easily as glass bottles that are tossed into a big, blue plastic container and placed on the curb to be forever taken away. I'm sure many in my life which my emotions could be discarded as easily...
I then did what every sane, proactive parent should: I sat down on my stationary cycle, began to pedal and sobbed. I felt like a failure as a mom, even those these things happened nearly a decade ago. I grieved the loss of the perfect family with perfectly behaved kids, you know, like the ones that are plastered all over the place on Facebook? I felt the sting of loving so much yet feeling betrayed in return. As I cried, I thought to myself, "I love my kids so much. How could they do something like this?" Instantly I was reminded of God's love for me and how He must feel on a daily basis. They were kids and I'm a full-grown adult and I commit atrocities way worse. Just like the weight of those sins was too much for the ceiling to carry, so it is with the sins that I commit. Sooner or later, they always come to light and come crashing down on me, too much of a burden to be carried on my own. One of my favorite verses is "Be sure your sin will find you out" and it certainly played itself out in physical form on my basement floor that morning. Even so, I was not quite ready to extend God's grace and mercy on my children.
For a few days, I was distraught. I camped out on the event for maybe a bit longer than I should, but longer, I think, is indeed preferable to not long enough. I counsel everyone I know, feel what you feel, for if you don't, it will come back to bite you on the ass one day.
I said some angry, unfair things to my children, but their responses and subsequent Facebook posts did nothing to remedy the burden I felt. I know many, if not most, of those who read these words will laugh them off, much like my kids did, in varying degrees, when their secrets came crashing down. But I am not most people. I have lived with addicts my entire life, watching them try to hide their addictions. Sadly, two of them are now dead and a third is wasting away in a nursing home. None of them were here for those who needed them and none rose up to the great potential they had. Hiding bottles in a ceiling tile hit way too close to home for me, even those there's a good chance that my kids were just being kids, not wanting me to find out what they were up to.
Thankfully, I feel better now, due to just plain old time, talking to others about my pain and writing about it, like I am now. Though I was not able to see it at the time, this event was for my good. The bottles on the floor were a picture of so many things, many of which I've already mentioned. All of us have things we've tried to hide, then, once found out, we try to throw them away and tidy the mess up. We all have things in our past we'd rather hide than face. We all make a mess of something, at one point or another. And we all feel regret, knowing we could have done better. At least I do.
The bottles on the floor represented so much more than bottles on the floor and I think that's what some people may not get when they choose to laugh it off as just kids being kids. And you know what? That's okay. God meets everyone where they are and deals with them in His timing, in His way. He's fine with me grieving because He created me to be this way. He is not, however, okay with me STAYING in that grief. Like those bottles, I need to get cleaned up and the trash needs to be thrown away, leaving me clean and renewed and ready to face the World once again.
As I love to say, God is all about redemption. And reconciliation. He not only wants me to forgive my kids and move on, but He wants to me to be able to forgive myself for not being a perfect parent...or a perfect wife, friend or child. Like I love my kids, He loves me so much more and longs for me to be set free from guilt, regret, shame. He desires the same for every single one of us. And I'm so grateful.