Wednesday, November 7, 2012

To Love A Stranger

Took the Reds to the Golden Arches for supper. I had hoped to read the paper while they played, but the place was packed, so we ate outside the play area and had lessons on sitting-properly-in-public instead.

A well-coiffed, well-dressed woman sat alone two tables over, staring intently at her laptop and giggling at the Reds, though she was trying hard not to. In the end, I grinned over Luke's head at her: "I give up. Some days, they just crack me up."

And she laughed out loud and said, "They crack me up, too!" and congratulated me on having such great kids. I tossed back that I am indeed very, very lucky.

This woman, as it turns out, has not been as lucky. Over the next hour, I  heard about her divorce, her job loss, her childhood, the resentment she holds for her own mother,  who is long past the age of being able to set things right.

 I learned that she has one child. A son, long-grown. One who never calls or writes or visits. One who is very, very angry with his mother.

"But why?" I asked quietly. (What I meant was, "Tell me everything you did so that I can be sure not to do the same.")

She shrugged elegantly, splayed her hands in a gesture of defeated confusion, muttered something about not having read the same parenting book that I have and then promptly burst into tears.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, damn-it-Liz-why-do-you-gotta-TALK-to-people-all-the-damned-time?

Mortified at her tears and my nerve, I fumbled through an apology and then wrung my hands together as  I gently mocked myself:  "Parenting book. Ha! Mostly, I spend each night before sleep counting all the ways in which I've damaged the children today!"

She blinked in surprise, wiped carefully at her tears and smiled sadly.

"I carry that with me every day, that knowledge that I damaged my son. That I did it all wrong. That I didn't do enough."

"You know, you're taking an awful lot of stuff onto your shoulders, mama. I don't know you, or the reasons for your son's anger, but at some point, we all become responsible for our own shit. At some point, we've gotta stop blaming our mothers and blame ourselves instead."

"But he hates me. He told me."

"That's hard. Why do you think that is?"

"Because he's gay."

"You think your son hates you because he's gay?"

"No. I find it hard to love him because he's gay, so he hates me."

I think my jaw dropped open and there was a weird rushing in my ears - like a distant roar, which I now recognize as rage, but then, I could only blink in shock.

Finally, I found my voice:

"Well, hell. That's huge. And sad. And frankly, if I were him, I probably wouldn't speak to you, either."

She glared at me then, furious: "I gave him everything. Every advantage. Every dream. Every chance. And he won't even talk to me!"

"You gave him everything but acceptance about who he really is. Because all he sees, in the end, is that you don't love him."

"Would you love your sons if they decided to be gay?"

"I love my sons. Period."

"Even if they won't ever give you grandchildren?"

"I love my sons. Period."

"But what if they love men?"

"Then I will have more sons to love."

We sat quietly for awhile, absorbing, assessing, fuming, watching the children play. Finally, I could stand the silence no longer and was moved to say this:

"I hope that this conversation has offered you something good. I hope that in the days and weeks to come, something will happen or a call will come and you'll think of my sons and me and this all make some sense."

"Why do you hope that?" she asked, resigned, a little bit bitter. A LOT angry.

"Because," interrupted an older man, sitting quietly nearby with his wife, cradling a coffee in his hand, "Because you have lost love. Hope's all you've got left."

We all looked back at the woman, whose eyes filled once more with tears. I cannot say that my heart ached for her, because it didn't. Not for her.

"I suppose it's worth a shot," she offered, reluctantly. "His birthday's on Friday. I suppose I could call."

Part of me hopes she does. Part of me prays that she doesn't.

All of me loves that man.



70 comments:

  1. I don't always see eye to eye with my kids, but I love them unconditionally. I can't fathom not loving my kids, whatever their orientation. And I'm not just speaking in the hypothetical. My prayers are with that lady and her son.

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    1. My son is gay......I love him beyond measure.....he is a man, a good, honest person, thoughtful, kind and caring. He is a brother, a grandson, a friend. He worries about the environment, he has strong political beliefs, he has future dreams and ambitions......being gay does not define him...he is my son and I love him and his brothers for who they are and who they will become.

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    2. "Being gay does not define him" True, true, true. LOVE defines him, has molded him, has created him. I love that you know this...and that he always will.

      Thank you, Anon, for being you. Being here.

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  2. Good for you to have the courage to say what we would all love to. I hope you opened her eyes and changed her heart.

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    1. I hope so, too. For her sake, for her son's. But honestly, I don't know if it was courage that caused those words to tumble from my mouth - mostly, I was mad. And sad, though not for her, then. I was tonight, when I tucked MY sons into bed and got words of love and kisses. All that she is missing. Has missed.

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  3. I was with you, Liz. That's what happen when you read great writing. You put me there. I love that man too. And I want to love her son for her.

    As I told Vivian this week, doing the right thing often isn't easy. You did the right thing when you engaged her in conversation and held her accountable.

    Thank you.

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  4. Thank YOU for reading and for getting it. These conversations often find me, it seems and often, I walk away being mad at myself for saying stupid things. For once, I let my heart speak and I don't feel stupid. I just feel...sad.

    xo

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  5. Geez, what an experience. And well told. Thanks for telling it.

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    1. Thank YOU for reading it, Tyrannus. Cool name. Off to trawl your site now! :)

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  6. I suspect you made a huge difference in that woman's life and in her son's, even if it doesn't play out right away. Seeds of change! Awesome. :)

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    1. I hope you're right, Shari. Seeds of change, indeed. For her. For me...for anyone else listening to our conversation. What a weird night!

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  7. I love this: "Then I will have more sons to love."

    Now, stay out of the Golden Arches. Nothing good ever comes of dinner at The Arches. :)

    Beautiful piece.

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  8. I kinda love the idea of more sons to love - and kinda dig the idea of them coming to me already potty-trained and gainfully employed.

    McDonald's has the best coffee. Better even than Tim Hortons, which I realize is a bit un-Canadian of me, but there it is.

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    1. He basically encapsulated all that I was feeling, but couldn't express past my dismay. God bless strangers - him, her. All of us.

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  10. Great! My heart hurts for her son.

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    1. Mine does too, Kim. I simply cannot imagine my parents not loving me because I love. Cannot. imagine.

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  11. This was so incredibly powerful.

    "But what if they love men?"

    "Then I will have more sons to love."

    Had tears rolling down my face. I admire the composure you kept and the words you said to her. I hope that you inspired her to talk to more people, maybe find out that one does not "turn gay", and learn that maybe, just maybe she was wrong.
    THEN I hope she calls her son.

    Thank you for sharing! I came here through Erin and The Gay Dad Project and am glad I did!

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    1. Thank you so much for following the link my way - I am humbled and grateful. And I too, hope she calls her son. And begs forgiveness. And is forgiven.

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  12. Wow, that is one powerful conversation. I love that you spoke up for her son!

    As a total aside, I too prefer McDonald's coffee to Timmies! Also, it is cheaper which just makes it that much more awesome. :)
    Jenn

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    1. Ah, Jenn...a coffee lover after my own heart. Lovely to have you here - thanks for popping over!

      It was a powerful conversation and a surreal one - imagine the pain she must be in, even if it IS self-inflicted, really - to bear her heart that way to a stranger.

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  13. My mother was this mother. When I was eighteen, I came out to her and she told me I was sick and needed help. Everyday she beat me down until I went back into the closet. At forty four, after years of being married to a woman, I could not take it anymore. I came out to my mother again and she accepted me with open arms and apologized for everything that she had said and done. People can evolve. I am married to a wonderful man now and my mother DOES have another son who she loves and he loves her.

    You did such a wonderful thing. I hope this woman evolves.

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    1. Darling Bill. For your pain, I offer only a promise: that my "Bills" will never not know my love and acceptance, for any reason. I have often wondered how it must be for those who feel they must hide who they truly are. I'm sorry that you spent so many years in hiding, but am thrilled to read that you are fully YOU and fully loved.

      Your mama is a lucky woman to have regained her son and another to boot. xo

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  14. You're the best. I love that you voiced your thoughts and feelings to this woman. What an incredible experience to have at the Golden Arches one random night. Obviously meant to be. Sarah XO

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    1. Here's hoping, my friend, that some small part of what I said resonates for her, somewhere along the way. For me, the old man's words have been playing over and over in my mind: You've lost love. Hope is all you've got left."

      Hope floats. I hope.

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  15. This made me cry, in a good way. Thank you for your words and your honesty. If only more people felt this way. "Then I will have more sons to love" was just beautiful.

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    1. Aw, Dawnie, bless you for your tears. My throat was clogged with them, writing this. Clogged again, reading all these comments, realizing that this story has struck a chord with so many.

      The state of unloved-ness is real, unfortunately. I hope it doesn't remain so for that mother and her son.

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  16. Goosebumps. Liz, this is why you "gotta" talk to everyone- because you have wisdom and truth to speak into their lives, even when you don't think you do. I hope and pray reconciliation is possible for that woman and her son. Perhaps it started with this conversation.

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    1. Sweet words, my friend. Thank you. I have often written here of how my sons seems to act as conduits and how I believe that they are tiny, awesome little messengers of goodness. Without them, this conversation would never have taken place - I hope, hope, hope that it was as powerful for that mother as it seems to be with all of you, who've commented here.

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  17. It is so much easier to move on rather than have a hard conversation with a stranger. Thank you for your courage and thank you to that eavesdropping man!

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    1. That man was God, I swear it, dropping in to offer a final, powerful truth. I am not especially active, church-wise, but every now again, my faith is renewed, the way it was here.

      I don't know if it was courage or merely anger that compelled me to scold her so, but I couldn't NOT. And you're right, it is sometimes easier to move on than to stay and talk...another lesson for living, right?

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  18. I am so happy you spoke up. Maybe not everyone would have. Maybe you have given that son the gift of his mother back (and given her some sense). What a wonderful thing.

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    1. I can only hope, Abigail that my heart opened hers. I wish there was a way to know, but will settle for knowing that by following mine, I did the right thing.

      Thank you so much for joining the conversation today!

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  19. Thank you for this post and for standing up for your wonderful beliefs! I probably would've punched that woman, so I'm glad you were able to make it out of there semi level-headed.

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    1. Ah, Tara...normally, I stick my foot in my mouth and end up embarrassing myself with saying the wrong thing or not enough of what's right. And while I did feel such viseral anger towards her, I felt pity too, for all that she has lost.

      Frankly, I don't know which feels worse, especially when love is involved.

      Thank you for coming here and sharing the story! :)

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  20. It's acts and conversations like this that help change they way people feel about us Liz. Thank you for being the amazing person you are and sharing this. I promise to visit soon.

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  21. Josh, I thought of you last night. Thought of many friends and loved ones, who perhaps harbour/harboured the fear that their parents would react that way this woman has.

    I too, hope it's not in vain - for this woman, her son, and you.

    xo

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  22. This was amazing to read: such emotional whiplash. You handled it with great strength and grace, and I can only hope I'd have the fortitude to express my anger so elegantly were I in the same situation. Keep up the amazing work - both with your cutie redheads and any strangers fortunate enough to cross your path.

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  23. Emotional whiplash. What an apt description, for all of us, it seems. Thank you for seeing grace and strength, though I imagine that most people would have fumbled through in much the same way, using different words, perhaps.

    And strangers? Well, in our world, they're friends we simply haven't loved. Yet.

    Thank you for reading and passing the love on!

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  24. Very moving, thank you for writing this up.

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  25. Thank you for reading, Rachel. Lovely to have you here!

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  26. I just had a conversation with a friend today about conditional friendship and what a juvenile concept it is. Thanks for writing this piece, it was very good. Now I'm gonna go hug my 11yo daughter for no reason. :)

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  27. Thank you for reading this piece, Michael and for being struck by the urge to hug your daughter - that's one of the best parts of loving kids, really, the random "I-just-love-you" hugging.

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  28. Wow, I cried! Like, a lot! For him and for her; but mostly for him..and for you too for being so brave. Thanks for giving me a chance to remember how fortunate I am to be loved and supported as I am by my parents, family, friends, etc.

    Way to go Liz for confronting her -- but for not getting so all up in her business that she shut you out. Sounds like she listened - that you had an impact - and that's a good thing.

    So, when are you writing your book? Had to go to your blog after seeing some of your fb posts - they make me laugh. Agree with the poster that said you put me right there with you (but good it wasn't me, I might have kicked her in the teeth!).

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    1. Well, hello there, Skyboy. Am delighted to know that we're already friends on FB, but cannot work out who you are. I love you already though, especially since you think I'm funny. Glad that others in your life also love you and accept you entirely for the whole of who you are.

      Book? It's on the bucket list. Someday, my friend. Someday...

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    2. Hey Liz, I keep trying to post a reply here on my phone, but never really worked. But alas, I'm at my home computer, so hopefully this will work. Didn't even know I had a blog username...obviously doesn't get used. Wow, will I ever get to the point here? It's me, Corey. I've read some of your blog entries and love the quirkiness and hilarity that is you and your family. Also, was glad to discover (a while ago now) that you married Mark. I didn't know him well in high school, but always apprecaited his sense of humour and what a genuine person he seemed. Funny how certain people stand out. Anyway, I've enjoyed reading your blog entries and will continue to follow! Take care, Corey xxoo

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    3. Sweet Corey - how delightful that it's you and that I love you already. Thanks so much for returning to tell me who you are. One day, my friend, we shall meet and have coffee, just like old times. Well, minus the truck stop coffee and endless cigarettes, I mean...

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  29. Wow. This was a great post. The idea that a parent could love his or her child even a little less for being gay is such an awful idea. But after I read this, I thought about the people in my life that have learned I'm gay in the last two years, including family... and wonder if they love me a little less because of it. I guess it's possible. Luckily, my daughter will never have that problem, no matter what her orientation turns out to be.

    Thanks for writing this.

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  30. I struggle with the idea that a parent could love his/her child less because s/he loves, period. But I wonder if the reasons behind the anger this woman hangs onto is a result of not feeling loved herself, as a child? I don't know if that excuses her, or if it's worse if that's the case, but I have pondered it all, today. Will likely continue to do so for some time.

    I guess I just don't understand how being gay is so problematic for the friends and family of the people who are. I don't see how who we love changes the fact that we are loved (or should) be for the sum of all of our parts. Glad your daughter will never know the loss of your love, Pirate. Carry on being awesome!

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  31. So indicative of a generational gap...I am so happy of the exceptance and freedom that we feel right now to love our offspring unconditionally...in years it will only get better...this poor women has been brainwashed by a stanch generation...of possible catholics!

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    1. I do think that partly, this is a generational thing, though this woman grew up in a Christian home (she did make note of that, weirdly enough) she didn't mention being Catholic and usually, people differentiate. But, your thought still stands: she is clearly working from some outdated mindsets!

      Lovely to see you here, Sabrina - thank you for popping over! :)

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  32. Liz, Wow! Great post! I hope so much that this woman learns to love her son just the way he is. You said the right things to her, did not let her off the hook, held her accountable. That is hard to do sometimes. It is hard to imagine prejudice so strong that it blots out a mother's love.

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    1. "Prejudice so strong, it blots out a mother's love."

      Powerful, perfect description, Colleen. And you're right, I can't imagine it, although I see the evidence of it all over, in so many heartbreaking ways.

      I would hope that, should I ever demonstrate a hatred like hers, that someone would hold me accountable, too. *Shudders at the thought*

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    2. I cannot imagine you holding a prejudice that strong against your child - or anyone for that matter. My friend Lindy talks about children who are sufficiently kissed. I think that means children who know they are loved. They grow up into adults who know they are loved. These adults - they know how to love - they know that they are lovable, they know that others are worthy of love. I have a sense that you were sufficiently kissed when you were a child :-) That mother - it seems like she does not know that others are worthy of love, just the way they are. That son for sure did not learn that he is loveable at her knee. I hope they both come to know that they are worthy of love just the way they are.

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  33. What a beautiful story.
    I must admit that at first I thought you were going to reach out to help another human being in pain and that human being would leave the golden arches feeling the warmth of a renewed hope for humanity.
    But it was so much more delightful when you put her in her place and demonstrated your moral superiority over her. I can't even imagine where this woman gets off thinking she's allowed to hold her own beliefs, especially when they differ from modern day political correctness.
    I'm so glad you were there to make her feel an inch tall. Frankly, I worry that millions of hateful people like her who live worthless, politically incorrect lives dictated by their wrongheaded personal beliefs, visit McDonald's every day without having a morally superior yuppy there to throw it all in their faces.
    It is my greatest hope that she will read this blog and see how you have used her meaningless, failure of a life to demonstrate your moral superiority to all your readers. Then maybe she will kill herself and that's what the world needs after all isn't it? One less hater in the world? The triumph of good over the evil that she so obviously is?

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    1. I have to say in a very very small way, very small way that I agree with this fellow. Or maybe I don't and I just like to play devil's advocate. But, in reading some of the replies here, it seems like there is a lot of hate directed towards the woman because she doesn't agree with their belief system ie, being gay is OK. Hating somebody because they don't share your belief system, that it is wrong to hate someone because of their belief system, is, of course, hypocritical. It's easy to love those who agree with you, that's not a real test for anyone. I can't tell from reading your post what you felt towards this woman in the end, and I don't know that I would have reacted much differently, but I hope that your rage quickly turned to pity. This woman has obviously been through a lot. To put this in perspective for some, how would you feel if your son turned out to be a Nazi. Would you still love them? BTW, lest anyone should assume I think I am morally superior, I assure you and my wife greatly assures you that I am, if anything, the opposite. Just saying

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    2. Hi Troy!

      There is, admittedly, a part of my heart that does indeed see his/her point - who am I to judge his/her beliefs and viewpoints, simply because they differ from mine? And yes, this woman has been through a great deal, which DID make me wonder if all that SHE had known had lead her to this place of lonely broken-ness. Because she was absolutel that - lonely and broken. BUT...what struck me most, and perhaps I didn't relay it well in the post, was how much she needed - for her own sake, as much as her son's, though at the time, my heart ached more for him - to reach out to him. The ball, as I saw/see it, is in her court.

      I don't hate this woman. I don't think her son does either. I think that they're both hurting terribly. And I can hope that by offering her my thoughts on the matter, stranger though I was, she might consider another perspective.

      Thank you for offering yours and for doing so respectfully and with care. It's much appreciated. :)

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    3. :) I don't know where you find the time to do this btw.

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  34. Dear Anonymous,

    Morally superior I am not. What I AM is a mother who loves her sons and will continue to love her sons even if they later reveal that they are gay.

    What I AM is a mother who listened to another mother pour out her history and her angst to a perfect stranger in McDonald's. I am not sure what she expected of me, nor am I certain that the words I chose were the right ones but I DO know this:

    In listening to her, in responding to her as a mother, as a human AND in sharing it here on my blog, I ABSOLUTELY reached out and helped another human being in pain. Holding someone else's pain does NOT mean that I agree with the reasons for it, nor does pretending otherwise help them.

    She doesn't hate her son. I feel enormous hope that she will realize that she does not NOT love him, either. And I hope that the conversation we shared may have helped her come to that realization and reach out to him.

    I did not make her feel an inch tall. SHE did. I wish her no harm and frankly, am extremely disturbed that you would, from this piece, determine that I did or do.

    The only meaningless failure here is for any one of us to believe that without love, without forgiveness, we can live a meaningful life.

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    1. I thought the story was absolutely wonderful, enlightening and inspiring. It's not wrong to feel anger or even sadness over the idea that what you thought or dreamed your son could be, would be, and is now not at all close. But, as a parent, I believe in acceptance and love. Unconditional love. That's what children need to thrive, be confident and grow to be accepting, loving adults themselves. Afterall, when we bring a child into this world, part of our promise is to love our children no matter what.
      You gave her honesty. There is nothing wrong with honesty. I think it's necessary in life, and it's also one of the greatest gifts we, as humans, have to give.
      It seems she is really unhappy with the path that she has taken, it seems she is saddened by the choices she made. How much would it have helped her to say, 'you did the right thing', when it's obvious she feels she didn't? I highly doubt that she believes that the things she has done up to this point has been sufficient enough to mend her relationship with her son, and I don't see any other way you could have said it better. We are all human, and we all make mistakes. I don't think this woman is a bad person, just a little lost in how to understand what's happened in her life. We all get there at some point, and I hope that she does reconnect with her son and realizes love is love, and it doesn't matter where it comes from.

      And Liz, your fantastic. You did exactly what I would have. I would absolutely expect honesty because as much as it is hard to hear, it reminds us that we aren't always our own best judgment and also that humanity isn't just to help us feel better about ourselves, but to always push each other to strive to be the best we can be.

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    2. Thank you, Renee, for so beautifully sharing your thoughts here. I think you're so bang-on when you say that as humans, we sometimes need to push each other to be the best we can. I would expect no less from you if it were me trading love for alone - especially if alone made me as unhappy and discontented as this woman was.

      I suppose, in our ways, we are all of us like her. I wonder if I would be happier to receive feedback about the things that make me angry and bitter than to not?

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  35. Being loving and kind and truthful doesn't make you "morally superior"... but it does make you a better mama to your boys and person in the world.

    I'm with Liz on this one. I can only hope someone calls me names like "morally superior" if that means my boys know they are loved.



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    1. I don't even want to be morally superior. I just want to love my kids and hope that other parents love theirs. I work with children who are abused and unloved - their eyes and hearts will haunt me forever.

      Thank you, WSMama3, for knowing.

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  36. So, you know how I am Liz-- very blunt, and very much a "tell it like it is" sort of person. I am wondering; does this anonymous person think that because you didn't sugarcoat things, because you didn't tell her it was "okay" and validate her actions/feelings/words that you are "morally superior"? You weren't hateful/verbally abusive/demeaning/insulting; I feel like people often confuse speaking in a candid, straight-forward manner with belittling someone. I truly hope this woman learned something, that you gave her something to think about- and that she actually does think about it. Much love. :)

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    1. I hope that she finds love...and is reunited with her son. Which could be the same thing.

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  37. Way to Go, Biff!!

    Love your blogpost and your response to Anonymous.

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  38. What you did -- speaking the truth in love, face to face, to another human being .... that takes courage.

    Anonymously trolling someone's blog, on the other hand, does not.


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    1. Thank you Lloyd -for seeing it for the love it was and for gently reprimanding "Anonymous" for spewing venom that was unwarranted.

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