Difficult Choices

I was thinking tonight.  My son was by my bedside, talking to me about choices he’s made to spend less time with certain friends.  Even to stop seeing some at all.  He feels ambivalent.  Torn.

I get this because years ago, I made a controversial decision to divorce from my own family after my brother committed a crime against one of my children…. After it became clear that my mom was turning to drugs…that my dad would take no action or stand, as was his habit.

I could not be true to my family of origin and to myself and what I believed at the same time.  I had to choose and not choosing was choosing just as surely.

The rub was that my heart was involved.  I loved my family. I loved all the good times too. 

  •  My mom’s sense of humor and downhome charm.
  • my dad’s kindness to the poor
  • my brothers friendship. 
  •  making tunnels in the tall grass of the field near our house with my brother
  • shooting rapids on the Santiam river in summer on squeaky slippery tractor innertubes
  • putting up peaches with mom
  • my first ticket when dad was teaching me to drive
  • butchering twenty chickens for grandma and then not being able to eat chicken for six months
  • gossip sessions over canning corn with my cousins and aunts and grandma
  •  playing cards
  • flashlit walks to get the paper in the warm summer dark.🌻

I’m thankful for all of it.  

I miss all of it

I turned my back on all of it

 because of drugs, abuse, and crime.  

It’s very hard to be true to oneself at times: to what is true and right and wise.

But life is about choices isn’t it? 

 When I chose to walk away from the secrets and shame and farce, I also left the canning and summer walks and mud puddles.

 That’s how we show our faith:  What we really believe:  put all of our eggs in the God basket.

I trust God to make it up to me.  🌻

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