Growing up in America in the 60’s-70’s, in a big, happy, healthy family, was a wonderful blessing, made even better for us kids by the fact that our parents shielded us from so much of the reality of life of what was then the “modern world”. Sure, civilization had by then “progressed” in many ways from the early cave-dwelling days. Mankind for the most part, and certainly here in the Western World, no longer wandered aimlessly through a nightmare world in which life was “nasty, brutish and short” as depicted by Thomas Hobbes in his book, “Leviathan”.
At the same time, despite the hedge raised around us by my parents, I knew enough to realize that we were not exactly living in a world such as that envisioned by Walt Disney in his “Experimental Prototype Community of Tomorrow”. Not all was well outside of our home, and I won’t bore you with a rendition of the immense problems the citizens of America faced back then. Some of those problems continue to plague our land to this day.
Still, we were happy. All the time.
At least, the kids were happy. We had joy, seemingly without boundaries. We played from dawn until long after dark. We were safe, we were protected. The words of Don Henley from his song, “The End of the Innocence”, fit us exactly - “Remember when the days were long and rolled beneath a deep blue sky? Didn’t have a care in the world with mommy and daddy standin’ by.”
We were a big and happy family. Of course all of the Holidays were times of celebration. Of course Mother’s Day at church was a day of nothing but joy. I mean, look at all these wonderful, perfect kids! Those tears in our Mom’s and Dad’s eyes, and in the eyes of some of our friends Moms and Dads on those days, could only have been tears of happiness, right?
We were blissfully unaware of the problems of life and the struggles of adults trying to raise a family. What did we care about checkbooks and paychecks and bills and taxes and mortgages and groceries and tithing and Christmas presents and clothing and cars and gas and insurance and home repairs and car repairs? What did we know about hospitals and funeral homes and cemeteries?
I’m not sure how old I was before I found out that I have a sister who is buried in the same cemetery where Mom and Dad are now buried. She lived only a few hours on this Earth. I don’t know when I found out that my best friend from church had a brother who had died when he was very young. I think I was in Law School before I found out that another friend from church had a brother who had died at a young age.
Now I am all grown up. The hedge of protection raised around me as a child has long ago been razed. Things I never knew or cared about as a child now demand constant attention.
And now, like my parents, and like my friends’ parents, I too know what it is like to face a Mother’s Day at church with an empty chair by my side. Perhaps more of Don Henley’s song fits here too – for me, for them, and for so many others - “But ‘happily ever after’ fails, and we’ve been poisoned by these fairy tales.”
I wonder if the day you realize that “happily ever after” is not actually promised is the day you grow up?
I was blissfully unaware back then of how I had been shielded from the deep grief of my parents and my friends’ parents. But now I wonder if it might have been better to have been made aware? I wonder if my knowing then might have made a difference for them back then? I wonder if my knowing then might have made a difference for me now in my own journey through grief?
Churches in general, and I know my church in particular, take especially good care to make sure no one’s feelings are hurt during these celebrations of Mother’s Day and other such days. All the ladies were honored at our church on Mother’s Day, and flowers were provided for all. And that is wonderful, and I am so thankful. Still…
My little boy and I got home after church on Mother’s Day, and went about our day. After all, it was just another Sunday afternoon for us. Nothing for us to see here. No reason for us to make a big deal of this day. But then I heard my phone chime – a text had come in, with a picture and a message. A friend had said: “I’m going to bring a flower to our lady”, and then this happened:
“Our lady.” Have I ever told you what a beautiful and thoughtful and loving congregation of God’s people I am blessed to be a part of? I’ve been writing these snapshots into my journey through grief for about a year now. This journey isn’t over yet – it may never really be finished. But, I’m starting to get the feeling that, as long as I can walk this path with people like these, all may, eventually, be well with my soul.
Ambrose Ramsey | Pastor and Shepherd
