Menu
Watching them walk away
When I was 9 years old, Mom packed her bags and left.
Years later, I understood the whys and the wherefores of her choice, but at 9 years of age, all of that was far beyond me. Nothing was the same without her. Since she didn't drive, we seldom saw her and called her only in moments of extreme emergency. (Like the time Debi put a hot pan of rhubarb pie filling to cool on the glass shelf in the refrigerator. The glass shattered. It was spectacular. And terrifying. Dad's temper was a fearsome thing.) It's hard to recollect the details of her departure, but I do know her absence spanned both Thanksgiving and Christmas that year. She and Dad reconciled before Easter. It was a tragic time in my life and in the lives of my brothers and sisters. Debi, all of 11 at the time, took on many of Mom's responsibilities, while David, Dean and I leaned on her and struggled every day to find our own way. Danett, the youngest, was not yet in school and had moved out with Mom, and so was spared the worst of this ordeal.
(If anyone tries to tell you that separation or divorce doesn't affect children, know them to be a fool. Even in homes where tensions and tempers run high, as they did in my family of origin, to have one or the other parent leave means inflicting emotional trauma that never completely dissipate.)
Although this instance was only one of many desertions I would experience in my lifetime, it is the first one I can clearly recall and it is etched deeply in my memory. It seemed I was, all too easily, left behind.
Is it easy to leave someone behind? It seems to be, if the only evidence that speaks is the sheer number of desertions in our day. And if it is, what does that say about the ones left behind? Are they, after all is said and done, wholly undesirable? Not worth the trouble? Better gone than not?
I do know this much. Watching someone willfully walk away hurts. Long after they are far from view, the ache continues and with every thought of them comes a longing for a different outcome.
I recall the story of the rich man who approached Jesus with great enthusiasm, until he learned the cost of discipleship and "went away very sad." (Matthew 19:16-22)
Jesus did not pursue him, but let him go, giving him the freedom found in the mystery of "free will." But I can almost feel Jesus' heart break, watching him go. A glimpse of his heartache is seen again when he stands on the hillside of Jerusalem, mourning Israel's refusal to heed his kingdom call. (Matthew 23:37)
He verbalized his anguish when only one of 10 healed lepers returned to give thanks, and that a "foreigner." (Luke 17:11-19)
Who can ignore his cry in the garden, "Could you not keep watch one hour?"
And who among us could ever hope to survive the heartache of Simon Peter's betrayal as related in Matthew 26:69-75?
Nevertheless, this same Jesus, spurned, rejected and abandoned repeatedly, cried "Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they're doing" even as they crucified him. (Luke 23:34)
Small wonder then, that the promise spoken first by God through Moses to Joshua in Deuteronomy 31:8 still resonates: "The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you." Still so often left behind, Jesus will never leave nor forsake his own.
"And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age." Matthew 28:20 final clause (NIV)
Things you won't see in heaven:
Luggage
Audio from KNGN 1360 AM: