Category Archives: reconciliation

If Your Child is a Prodigal

05 Tuesday May 2015

Posted by in Alice Scott-Ferguson, challenges of motherhood, expectations, Free to Love, God as our parent, Guest Post, Parenting, reconciliation, the healing journey

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Rembrandt_Harmensz._van_Rijn_-_The_Return_of_the_Prodigal_SonDo you know the pain of mothering a prodigal?

If ever a situation poured self-recrimination, regret, and remorse on a mother, it is this one. Whether or not we have contributed to the child leaving home, faith, church, and even in some cases, God, our child has made a decision that we must respect. — We must not chide ourselves over our children’s autonomous choices.

Mention of the mother is missing in the most famous account of a prodigal, told by Luke in his gospel. Most likely she was there, though. Author Henri Nouwen explains that he sees the mother in the hands of the father in Rembrandt’s painting of The Prodigal (above):

“The father’s left hand touching the son’s shoulder is strong and muscular. How different is the father’s right hand! It lies gently upon the son’s shoulder—to offer consolation and comfort. It is a mother’s hand.” (quoted from The Return of the Prodigal, Image Book, 1992)

One mother admitted that it was easier for her husband to accept their daughter’s return than it was for her. Her struggle exemplifies the unrealistic responsibility mothers tend to assume for the destiny of their children. “What will people say about me as a mother?”

The prodigal may represent one of the hardest trials of a mother’s heart. But after we have cried an ocean and wailed into the dark silence of the night, hope in God. He is the heavenly Parent and is willing to wait, knowing that we all must come to an end of our own self-sufficiency before we become truly dependent on Him and not ourselves.

Let the prodigal process have its way. It is far more important for your wandering child to find the Father, than for your child to make you look good.

Henri Nouwen says that we are all prodigals if we are looking for our approval and acceptance from anywhere other than God. That includes mothers. Are we looking for the commendation of the church, family, or community that we want to impress with our perfect family, while our prodigal causes us shame and embarrassment? Then we too are being profligate in terms of our relationship with our heavenly Father, since we are looking for our identity outside of Christ. When our self identity is extricated from that of our child’s, then we are freed to love enough to let them go. We can let our reputation slide and learn our own utter dependence on God while we wait for our prodigal child to learn it as well.

We have no need to pretend in order to gain either the approval of God or man. We have no need to hide our pain or the less than perfect places and people in our lives.

“Have some of you noticed that we are not yet perfect? My ego is no longer central. It is no longer important that I appear righteous before you or have your good opinion, and I am no longer driven to impress God. Christ lives in me. The life you see me living is not ‘mine,’ but it is lived by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself for me. I am not going to go back on that” (Galatians 2).

Alice Scott-Ferguson is a Scottish-born freelance writer, author, and motivational speaker who lives in Arizona. She writes from her heart as a wife, mother, grandmother, and Christ-follower. Among other books, she is the author of Mothers Can’t Be Everywhere, But God Is : A Liberating Look at Motherhood, from which this post is extracted.

A Journey to Brother Love, Part 2

09 Sunday Nov 2014

Posted by in confessing our need, emotional needs, encouraging each other, family gatherings, generational patterns, God's healing love, reconciliation, the healing journey

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With my brothers in 2014

My brother and I with our half-brother (center) in 2014

In the post, A Journey to Brother Love, Part 1, I shared how as an adult I was shocked to learn I had a half-brother. I only met him once, 18 years ago. The opportunity arose to meet him again recently. I didn’t want any regrets, so I traveled to see him.

From the moment we were reunited, my brother was friendly and open, even greeting me with a hug. It felt very welcoming. He is a charming and engaging man. Yet for me, the time spent together was surreal.

What do you say? How do you communicate with a brother who was raised by maternal grandparents since he was two years old because his mother died and he was abandoned by his father (my father)?

Does he even want relationship with me (us)? After all, we were the chosen family.

My parents were married for 17 years before they divorced. I was nine years old at the time. I had my own wounds. It took me years to work through them and forgive my father.

My brother is on his own journey of healing and forgiveness—as are each of us five siblings, from three different marriages. We share the same father and the same DNA, but we all have carried different wounds from the generational curse of abandonment in our family.

I don’t have any wounds related to my half-brother, only compassion for what he endured and experienced, not knowing his earthly father. He has had to come to terms with two dramatically different tales of his abandonment.

Where was he on the spectrum of forgiveness and healing, I wondered.

Except for one private conversation we had where he recounted to me the story of his miraculous reunion with my father after 52 years of separation, our conversations weren’t really about that. I listened as he talked about his previous marriage and painful trials with his adult children. Every time he talked I could see and hear my father in him. My half-brother wasn’t raised by him, but my father is unmistakably in his DNA.

At the end of our visit, I still didn’t have the answers I sought. So I invited him and his wife to walk me into the train station to say our goodbyes. I didn’t want any regrets. I prayed and let my heart lead the way.

The conversation that ensued was perfectly ordained by the Lord. It started off tearful for me as I admitted I am a sentimental person. I think we both said what we needed to say and cleared the air about our own personal father wounds. I already knew I wasn’t alone in my struggle to overcome my past, and I wanted him to know he wasn’t either.

The icing on the cake for me was being able to share with him my sense that our father was at peace in heaven. Shortly after Dad died, I had a poignant spiritual encounter in church while praying. Shortly after that, Dad acknowledged that he hadn’t “been there” for me. The veil had been lifted for him and his denial was gone. That encounter was very comforting to me, and I hoped sharing the memory with my brother would bring him some healing and closure also.

So was my family visit for my healing, or my brother’s healing? I think it was for us both.

My journey with my new-found brother is just beginning. It took my Journey to Mother Love followed by my Journey to Father Love to find it. When our journeys are bathed in our Heavenly Father’s love, it will end with healing and hope; because His DNA is what really binds us on our pathway to wholeness.

~ Ardis A. Nelson

A Journey to Brother Love, Part 1

09 Sunday Nov 2014

Posted by in emotional needs, family gatherings, generational patterns, God's healing love, letting go of anger, reach out and touch, reconciliation, the healing journey

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1996 Reunion

With my father and brothers in 1996

Recently a new pathway of healing opened up to me: a “journey to brother love.”

My father married many times and had children from multiple wives—my siblings being the last. I grew up knowing about an older half-sister, but never met her. I didn’t know about a half-brother I had until 18 years ago when my father reunited with him after 52 years of separation.

I was in my early 30s, just starting my own family when my father called to tell me about my half-brother. It was an ‘Oprah’ type story of amazing coincidences that led to their reunion.

I felt like my world had been turned upside down.

My father invited me and another sibling to meet him. The half-brother lived across country and was making a trip to our area. I eagerly obliged, or maybe obeyed is a better word. This was in my pre-recovery days when I was still holding onto the past, carrying a lot of anger, and searching for my father’s love. Now I had to share that love with some long-lost family member.  My resentment must’ve leaked through in that one and only meeting.

My father remained in close contact with his new-found son over the years. They had several cross-country visits. I occasionally heard of their trips together. Each time I nursed my internal pangs: “But what about me?”

Since that time, I’ve spent many years of healing and recovery work to get to a place of forgiveness and love for my father. My dad even helped with some family history while I was working on the final draft of my story in Journeys to Mother Love. Unfortunately, he passed away a month before the book was released.

My half-brother couldn’t make it to our father’s memorial service. My stepmother (not his mother), ordered an autographed copy for me to send to my brother’s wife. I had experienced even more healing and forgiveness with my father wound with his passing. With that fresh perspective, I decided to send a letter to my brother, along with the book.

Here’s an excerpt from that letter: “I think each of his (my father’s) children carry a distinct Smith* mark in their DNA that we had to overcome as his children. And just because we had more physical time living with him, it doesn’t mean we didn’t carry familial scars. I say this to you in the hopes that you won’t let any of those feelings get in the way of continuing to stay connected with this family.”

Soon I received a nice note from his wife telling me how much she loved the book and that my story touched her as she grieved the recent loss of her mother. We continued our communications, but there was no direct response from my brother.

Then a few weeks ago I got a call from my stepmother that my half-brother and his wife were going to be in town. I was invited to come home for a visit. At first I declined due to an already full schedule. But thoughts of my brother and our disjointed family connection kept surfacing.

Did I need more healing or was it for my brother? I needed to know.

So I set aside my work and hopped on a train across the state.

Stay tuned for Part 2 of this post to find out how this Journey to Brother Love ends.

~ Ardis A. Nelson

*Surname changed to protect family privacy.

It’s Not too Late to Forgive

21 Thursday Mar 2013

Posted by in confessing our need, leaving a legacy, letting go of anger, reconciliation, the healing journey

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Ardis and her dad

Ardis with her dad soon before his death

Like a scab ripped from the skin, my wound was exposed again. Why would I deliberately enter into that wound again? How could I think that it was really healed? A recent post, “I Forgive You,” by Catherine Lawton was the catalyst that prompted me to take another look. That, and the fact that I spent Holy Week last year caring for my 93-year-old father, sent my mind back to the months preceding his death.

Catherine’s post reminded me of how the words and actions of forgiveness were not something that was modeled to me when I was growing up. Tears weren’t allowed either. We were taught to ‘buck it up’ and move on. Reading that post took me back to the letter I had written my father a year before he died. My grief at that time was still fresh from my mother’s passing, and my healing was making me bold in things of the heart. After reading Catherine’s post I pulled out that year-old letter.

Re-reading the letter to my father brought the pain of the wound to the surface. Tears overcame me as I read the words I had penned to him about my inner healing. I knew he had worried about me in the past, concerned that I would develop mental illness like my mother. He had told me that he was ‘watching me’ for signs. So I wrote the letter to reassure him that I was okay.

I’ll share a part of the letter to hopefully inspire others to forgive their parents. I sent this letter with no expectations from him in return. I just wrote what I felt the Lord laid on my heart to tell him:

“I won’t know all God’s purposes until I am in Heaven, too. But here on this earth and in this time, I have received incredible healing and much peace…. That is what I want for you, Dad. I thought it was important for you to know that Mom forgave you [before she died]. I want you to know that I forgive you also. I know you did the best you could under the circumstances. Even if you do have regrets about any of these family things, I know that, as a Smith,* it would be incredibly difficult for you to admit it. We Smiths always think we are so right. I guess if I had one regret in my upbringing it would be that I didn’t learn how to forgive others and to say “I’m sorry.” Those words would’ve helped me let go of so much of my anger and resentments years ago…

“…It’s not too late for you, Dad. You can do this. You can release all your ‘rightness’ and no-regrets thinking to the Lord. You can leave this family with a legacy of forgiveness. I hope and pray the Lord will bless you and keep you in His love for all your remaining days.

“I love you.

“Ardis”

My father never mentioned this letter to me or anything that was in it, but my stepmother told me he read and re-read it many times. I believe it sank into his heart, bridged the distance between us, and eventually gave him the ability to go in peace. Risking his rejection and ridicule by expressing my heart was worth it.

How about you? Is there someone to whom you need to say “I forgive you” while there is still time?

~ Ardis A. Nelson

*Surname changed to protect family privacy.

Emerging From the Cocoon

23 Tuesday Oct 2012

Posted by in mother wounds, reconciliation, show love by serving, the healing journey

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a butterfly on flowers

(Photo: C. Lawton)

When the contributing authors of Journeys to Mother Love were asked to write posts for this blog, I was thrilled. I had been blogging for a year and felt comfortable with the format. I was finding my voice and believed that God was giving me a story to share and point people to Him. But when it comes to writing about motherly themes for this blog, I feel somewhat lost and unequipped.

Less than two years now since my mother passed, the healing of my mother-wound is still somewhat fresh. I speak openly about what happened in the process, but I am still grieving the loss incurred by the fact that I didn’t really have a mother all the years that she was living. The mothering I didn’t get has had a profound effect on who I am today.

As described in my story, “Walking My Mother Home,” tremendous healing came as the Lord led me to minister to my mother in her final years of life. While I feel more spiritually alive and emotionally whole, I know there are still parts of me that are small, that missed having a mother’s love. It opens up from time and time like a gaping hole in my heart. Thankfully those moments are becoming few and far between, and I tend to recover more quickly.

Before my mother’s stroke in July 2009, I didn’t give her much thought. We weren’t completely estranged, but I really didn’t feel like I had a  mother. Since my mother was schizophrenic virtually all my life, I have no idea what went on in her mind, but I imagine she was sane enough to long for a loving daughter. In God’s infinite mercy and wisdom, that is what He gave her in the last eighteen months of her life. I didn’t know what I had missed, not having a mother-daughter relationship, until God gave me the joy of loving and caring for her.

Years ago when she gave birth to her only daughter, she couldn’t have fathomed the painful years that were ahead. Her life seemed normal. I am sure she had dreams for me and my brothers. Somewhere along the line she let go of those dreams and replaced them with fantasies fed by her mental illness.

Today, though, my mother is happily smiling at me from across my desk where I keep a photo of her, and from heaven above, with motherly pride for the woman that is now emerging from her cocoon like the butterfly that graces the cover of Journeys to Mother Love. I am like that butterfly, transformed from a shy little girl unsure of her own fate and sanity, into a woman who is more confident and free to be all that God is calling me to be. I’m even finding my own voice!

~ Ardis A. Nelson

Mother Love

17 Friday Aug 2012

Posted by in emotional needs, expectations, forgiving mom, God's healing love, importance of prayer, mother wounds, reconciliation, the healing journey

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Life is like a Ferris wheel going round and round, repeating itself over and over, sometimes you find yourself on the top looking out over your life. You think, ‘This is good; I could go on like this forever.’ But as soon as you get really comfortable with that thought, you feel yourself slowly slipping over the edge, descending toward some unknown yet familiar pit that consumes you until you feel the wheel slowly ascending to the top again.

I read this passage with its beautiful imagery in Katie’s Choice, a novel by Tracey Langford. The character in her story thinks about the seasons of the year, like football and Thanksgiving and Easter and how these event staples in our lives reliably return year by year. I picture each “car” of the Ferris wheel carrying people who enter and sometimes exit our lives, but have still been a part of the ride or journey. And who we have, for better or worse, developed a relationship with. Sometimes those relationships also go through a similar pattern—up and down, seeing a promising future and then feeling like we can’t connect well.

But there is one relationship that was always there. One that started before we were born. One we felt and treasured in our own limited way, even in the beginning: The one with our mother.

This site is dedicated to that Mother Love, even when it takes a round-about journey to get there. I believe that a complete healing and wholeness can be found in any mother-child relationship, even if you thought it was too late.

That is the premise of the collection of stories written by nine women in Journeys to Mother Love: Nine Women Tell their Stories of Forgiveness & Healing, compiled by Catherine Lawton and published by Cladach Publishing (www.cladach.com). No matter what your background, you will find yourself drawn to these stories and be able to relate to many of the feelings, experiences, and challenges these women have faced. And maybe, like them, you will find more healing and closure through God’s love, forgiveness and peace than you ever imagined!

Here are the stories in the book:

1. FEELING INADEQUATE:
Run, Run as Fast as You Can by A.R. Cecil

2.  DEVASTATED by VIOLENCE and SEPARATION:
She Did Her Best by Treva Brown

3.  ALWAYS “SECOND FIDDLE”:
Take Care of Your Mother by Verna Hill Simms

4.  ADJUSTING to CHANGES in MOM:
Finding the Blessings in Alzheimer’s by Kerry Luksic

5.  AFTER ABORTION and CANCER:
Beauty from Barrenness by Kyleen Stevenson-Braxton

6.  UNMET EMOTIONAL NEEDS:
When I Feel Forsaken by Catherine Lawton

7.  STEPMOTHER BLUES:
Finishing Well by Ellen Cardwell

8.  DISTANCED by a MENTAL DISORDER:
Walking My Mother Home by Ardis A. Nelson

9.  ANGRY and FRUSTRATED with MOM:
White Knuckles by Loritta Slayton

Do you have a wonderful relationship with your mom and/or your children today? We hope you do! And we would love to hear your story, too. You are not alone! This is a place to connect and to share. A place where you can find Christians who have gone through similar struggles … or are still going through them.

Whether you are looking at life from the upside or the downside, God cares. And so do we.

~ Christina Slike