I think every day about writing you. But then I don't. I just don't know what to say....
The other night, I wrote an e-mail that I'd been putting off. When someone won't respond to your efforts to reach out, it's so difficult to keep trying. When my son and I were estranged, I experienced that over and over and over again. I'd reach out, he'd refuse to respond, and I'd pull back, full of frustration and even a bit of anger. I'd tell myself, well, that's it, I won't try again! But then I would. I just couldn't give up. And like I wrote in a comment on this blog recently, I can look back on those sad years and at least know in my heart that I never gave up. I kept trying.
Now I have other broken bonds in my life. Once again, I feel the same "what's the point of trying?" frustration. In that e-mail I wrote the other night to this loved one, I was honest when I said I think every day about writing. But something always held me back. Finally, though, I sat down in front of my computer and wrote.
I didn't expect a reply. And so far, one hasn't come.
That's where the part about "Give it all to God" comes in. I have to keep doing my part--reaching out, even when I don't want to--and let God handle the rest. In His time, He will heal this broken bond. I just have to be patient.
And that's the hard part.
I, too, have been through this and went through the same thing of reaching out with no response. This went on for several years in a row, and I would hold back, and then try again, repeatedly. A dear sister in Christ told me to NEVER stop reaching out, so this bond would always know where my heart was at, should she ever need to reach me. God gave me dreams of this bond and me together, laughing, as if nothing ever happened between us, for about six months. The last dream came true a couple weeks later, exactly as the dream showed me. Exactly. The bond is now healed, but it took trusting God with it and obeying him, even when I didn't want to. The once broken bond whispered in my ear as we were leaving that first time of gathering, "thank you for staying in touch". You can't get more of God's love than that. Never stop reaching out to a broken bond. Never. God will do his part if we do ours. It's a promise.
ReplyDeleteWhat an inspiration YOU are. Thank you for sharing! And you are so right! We just can't ever give up! Except when we Give It Up To God.
ReplyDeleteIn Him, sheryl
My story gives hope to the hurting mothers out there who wonder when if it will ever be over. I was estranged from my son for 12 years. I'm here to tell you that reconciliation happens...regardless of how long the separation. Like so many others, I didn't see it coming. My son, daughter, and I were very close. I had been in a difficult marriage for many years and I officially ended the marriage. The divorce was very reasonable; there was nothing much to divide so we did it all through a paralegal. I had custody of our two children and my ex had visitation. My 11 year son started to be angry and rebellious towards me. Soon, he told me that he wanted to live with his father. I agreed because I thought it would be temporary and that he would "learn his lesson" and return home a more humble boy. I was wrong. The rift deepened and I couldn't seem to regain footing. Over the years, I tried everything from counseling, to begging my ex to persuade him, to confronting my son, meeting with his teachers, meeting with adolescent experts...everything. Like so many, I tried anything and everything, over and over again. I had turned from God during my divorce because the Bible said it was wrong to divorce and I decided to get one anyhow. The situation with my son felt like God's punishment. I was truly heartbroken and could hardly get out of bed some days. Although I didn't think of suicide, I knew that I wouldn't fight death if given the option. I searched for books or stories of other women in similar situations and couldn't find any (the Internet has come a long way). I couldn't comprehend how we had gone from a very close relationship to completely estranged. I was worried sick about my son's well-being. I believed that I must be a bad mother because I couldn't protect my child and I couldn't find anybody else who experienced this. I was deeply ashamed and became withdrawn. As the years went by, I continued to ask questions and do deep soul searching that led me to some wonderful places. What could I learn from this? How can I have peace? What do I need to see about me? How can I grow? How do I forgive myself? How do I forgive others who played a role? Who is God anyhow? The questions led me to beautiful places I couldn't have dreamed of. There was a lot in the middle, but the rift ended as suddenly as it started. It was not the result of a new trick, profound advice, or slick technique. Now that I have some perspective (we've been reconciled for about 3 years), I believe it changed when my heart was right; when I truly accepted and felt grateful for the whole ride. I did not do a thing. Out of the blue, my daughter told me that my son was moving to Houston from Los Angeles and it was happening next week. Through my daughter, he agreed to come to my husband's and my house for a family dinner. His only stipulation was that he did not want to talk about the past. We have been building our relationship since then and I have honored his request. There is so much more to tell and so much is difficult to put into words. My main message is that I am living proof that there's reason for hope. I also agree with the other posts that demanding answers sent me backwards rather than forwards. Now, I am in the joyful place of asking what I can do to help other mothers (and fathers) who are in similar situations. I hope that commenting on this post is encouraging to somebody out there.
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