Category: Family

Being With the Living God Where The Sky Begins

Published by mhelbert on March 14, 2024

Back in the late 80’s we took the family on a camping road trip. We started at a Yogi Bear Jellystone camp at Niagara Falls in Canada. That was fun for a couple days. We saw the sights and rode the Maid of the Mist and got wet. Far out. After those couple of days it was time to move on. We had no idea where to go. Hey, it was a road trip! Don’t judge me! We wound up at a Good Sam’s park near Lake Placid, NY. We thought it might be a good idea to see the Adirondack’s. Plus, in the 80’s the Miracle on Ice from the Lake Placid Olympics was still fresh in everyone’s mind. It was almost a national shrine. So, we drove through town. We saw the ski jump training hills. As we drove through the hills and valleys there were numerous cross-country skiers training on their skis with wheels. I still can’t imagine the strength and stamina that those athletes have. I feel good when I can complete a 3 mile stroll through the suburbs!
Anyway, we got to the campground and set up the tent and everything. The first day we just scouted things out on the grounds. The rivers and streams that flow through there are amazing! Rivers that get squeezed down to flow through small fissures of rock create torrents that shoot out into the air before falling a small lake below. We went on a short boat ride through an area that was less than 20 ft. wide, yet maybe a hundred ft. deep. It was a truly amazing thing for a northern Ohio boy to see.
On one day we looked at the map of the region that we picked up at the park office. It showed several sites worth taking the time to visit. One of those was Bear Den Mountain. The trail head was less than a mile from the camp, so we decided that it would be an adventure. We started up the trail. It was a mild incline, so my wife, myself, and our kids, age maybe 7 & 8 didn’t think that it was too bad. Soon, the trail turned into the woods and the incline became noticeably steeper. Not too steep for us. But, still, it was a workout. We saw the large birch trees with claw marks scratched in them by the mountain’s namesake bears. The flies and gnats became a real pain in the ass, too. We picked fern fronds to wave in front of our faces to keep them at bay. By now, the kids were beginning to lose interest in this adventure. But, we could see the top. Or, so we thought. So, we kept trudging onward and upward. After we hiked past the first false top, we did finally get to the real summit. Now, you gotta understand that we had no idea what this little hike was going to be like. So, we had running shoes and shorts and short-sleeved shirts on. We were totally not dressed to climb a mountain. At the top the temperature was probably 20 degrees cooler than at the bottom. The wind was blowing and, well, it wasn’t all that pleasant. But, the view! Looking out at the mountains across a valley with their sheer granite cliffs and trees was unbelievable. I can’t begin to explain what I felt as I took in that panorama.
We soon left and headed down by another path. This time I had to carry my daughter on my shoulders because she was wasted. Eventually, we came out onto a ski slope with grass and wild strawberries growing. The slope was easier and we soon came back to the trail head.
That night we were awakened by son as he was losing his supper all over the inside of the tent. Apparently, our adventure was a bit much for him. As I sat in the restroom with him, my wife cleaned up the puke and set the soiled rags outside of the tent. When my son and I finally returned, my wife informed me that the rags she had put outside had been stolen by raccoons that ran off into the woods with them. Well, at least we didn’t need to wash them.
I shared all of this because this morning as I sat at my desk in prayer, I asked God where He would like to meet today. As soon as I asked we were at the top of Bear Den Mountain. We sat and looked out at that wonderful view. Jesus asked me what I thought. Of course, I was again rendered speechless by that view. He then told me that these mountains had been here for millions of years. Yeah, Jesus accepts science. He’s not one of those confused Young Earthers. Anyway, we wound up just sitting there. We didn’t talk about anything. We just sat together on the top of the world enjoying the view.
God isn’t concerned about our small beliefs that put God into little boxes made of ticky-tacky. Or, whatever. What God IS concerned about is being with us. God enjoys just sitting with us. Wasting time as we share the view. Over the last many years I’ve come to covet these moments with God.
And, there’s no puke to clean up after!

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Gratitude

Published by mhelbert on November 26, 2020

First, Happy Thanksgiving to all!

Things may look bleak right now in many ways.

Covid-19 is taking lives and livelihoods every day. Friends and family are affected by job loss, income loss, and lives lost. It’s hard to be thankful for anything when these hit us so close to home.

Our culture is severely divided along ideological lines. It’s not just right vs. left or Democrats vs. Republicans. It’s son vs. father, daughter vs. mother. There are many households that are fractured during a season where joy and thanks should be the hallmarks.

Issues that surround the differences in skin color have been cut open and are bleeding in our streets. For many people, particularly white Americans, this has come as a surprise. They had thought that this issue had been settled in the 60s. In fact, racism had just been covered up. It still festered like an untreated infection until the poison came to a head and exploded.

Native Americans remember this day with great sorrow. Many take this day for “reflection and mourning for Lives Taken.” Others celebrate the harvest in order to remember what Thanksgiving is truly about.

Yet, here I am encouraging everyone to embrace Thanksgiving.
Not as the cultural holiday that it has morphed into.
But, so that we may express Gratitude.
It’s easy to sit around a table laden with all sorts of seasonal goodies. We can gorge ourselves on turkey and dressing, pie and cream. Then, sit in our living rooms watching football and feeling content.
Gratitude is not the same as feeling content. Feeling content is more akin to feeling satisfied.
Satisfied in how well I and my family fare so that we can afford this meal with all the trimmings. Satisfied that I can watch a game on my 50″, super HD television while seated in my padded recliner in the warmth of my heated home.
I don’t want to judge anyone. I’m going to do the same thing today. With, maybe, a nap thrown in for good measure.
There’s nothing intrinsically wrong with feeling content.

We must, however, remember that the feelings we have are not truly gratitude.

Perhaps we can be grateful for the resiliency of humankind.
We are stretched almost to breaking by the pressures of the pandemic and the culture and politics and the economy and, and, and….
Yet, we do not break. We find ways, not just to cope, but to overcome. Our lineage still hearkens back to our first forbears, including Lucy. These beings adapted and overcame obstacle that could have caused extinction. There are many examples of hominin species that did not survive. Ours, thankfully, did. Their survival and continued existence through many changes and forms seems to have engrained in us that same will to survive and thrive.
So, thank you Lucy!

We can be thankful for our friends and family. Especially, those of us who are difficult to love. People still put up with us. One or two actually seem to like us! Holy Crap!
So, thank you to all. (You know who you are!)

The food and shelter that so many take for granted are truly reasons to be thankful. Through science and sweat we have surpluses of grain, fruit, meat, and fish. We have technology that allows us to build and maintain housing in cities and suburbs. We are able to pipe water into our homes and, pipe our waste out. Gas, electricity, and telecommunications are things that we take for granted. We should not. These are things that we should be particularly thankful for.
So, thank you to the scientists, engineers, and laborers who make these things possible.

I could go on about specific things that we may be grateful for. But, I don’t want to sit here typing all day. There are turkey and potatoes calling my name!

I do want to say thank you to One more Person.
How can I express my gratitude to the One Who has given more than any other could possibly give?
Call this Person God if you like.
Love and acceptance are difficult for us humans. We find ourselves trying to condition our offering of these to others. “They aren’t like us,” we say. So, whoever ‘they’ are don’t receive those from us. “They talk strange,” or “They worship differently.” These difference seem to give us license to treat them as “Other” or “Less than.”
Yet, a Merciful God did not consider us as “Other.” God did not think of us as “Unworthy” or “Less than.”
God chose to Love us instead.
And, not only us!
God chose to Love the earth and the cosmos and the entire universe.

This should serve us as the Ultimate Example of how we should express our gratitude toward God, our families, and our communities.
And, not only these.

Perhaps during this season of thankfulness and joy we can take a minute to consider how we have benefitted by being a part of the Cosmos.

Thank you, God!

And, thank you for reading this.

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Un-Fathered

Published by mhelbert on July 16, 2020

Unseen vistas reveal themselves with every step I take into the world of God. I have walked the oft-trodden, yet rarely observed paths of the Spirit as She blows through the brilliant flowers, trees, and grasses that form the lines of the Scriptures.
It seems that the more I observe and marvel at, more and more beauty and grace appear.

This is not to say that the paths that the Breath of God leads me along are always pleasant for me. No, sometimes I am stung by some insect that follows me. Buzzing in my ear, brushing against my hair and skin, it is a reminder that the paths we walk are still real and within the bounds of this present life.
I read in those ancient texts stories of people who, like me, worried their way along these same pathways. They were led by the same Spirit. Perhaps, they were even stung by that same bothersome insect.
And, while their time and place are foreign to me, I can still feel what they felt and sense what they sensed.
We are, after all, born of the same stuff.

That’s why the text that we looked at last Sunday in the Bible study at St. Barnabas became alive to me in a brand, new way. There was a new vista revealed as I crested the hill.

We have spent the last several weeks working our way through the first 4 chapters of St. Paul’s first letter to the Church at Corinth. Paul wrote that he had been made aware of divisions and factions that had broken along the fault lines of honor and shame. The folks there seemed to find their own sense of honor and worth by casting their lots with one apostle over against another. This one follows Paul; the other Apollos. Paul would have none of that and wrote that the system they used to measure worth was deeply flawed. Through example, irony, and metaphor he urged them to seek the One True Measure which is God through Christ. If the folks at Corinth desired true Wisdom, they need look no further than the Cross of Christ. That, alone, exemplified God’s Wisdom.

In chapter 4, Paul seems to shame the people in that young Church. He pointedly revealed the foolishness of the path that they were taking.
But, he switched gears and told them,

“I am not writing this to shame you, but to warn you as my dear children.”
He continued,
“I became your father through the gospel.”

There it was!
A new sun rising above the horizon of my limited understanding.
Paul wrote this letter, not to wield a rod of correction. It was not so that he expound some great, spiritual truth to them. It wasn’t even really to cajole them into following his instructions.

It was to remind them that he was their father in the faith.

The folks in Corinth had Un-Fathered Paul.

And, that was the cause of much of his pain and concern.

I was reminded, then, of another story like this.
In the Gospel According to Luke the writer related a story about a father and his two sons.
This story is commonly referred to as the story of the Prodigal Son, although the Father is the main character.
The story begins with the younger of the two sons going to his father and requesting his inheritance. This may not appear all that big of a deal to those of us inhabiting the 21st century. However, at the time this story was told, that request would have been scandalous. What we miss is that the request was, in fact, the younger son’s wish that the father was dead so that he could take what he deemed was his.

“Father, I want my inheritance!”

To that the father could reply,

“When I die you will receive it!”
“No, Father, I want it NOW! For, you are dead to me”

That’s how this story would have been heard by those Jesus told it to.
How much this reveals about the Father’s love later in the story!
But, that’s a story that must wait for another time.

The younger son un-Fathered his own father.
He wished that his father HAD died.
His only concern was his own life and desires.

I saw this story brightly reflected in Paul’s response to his Children in the Faith.
I could feel his sense of loss and betrayal.
I could understand his heart as he tried to reveal the potential danger that these children of his were running toward.
“Stop! Wait! There’s a cliff there and you’re about to run off of the edge!”

For those who have experienced the pain of this type of loss, I don’t need to explain it.
For those who haven’t, well, let’s all just hope and pray that you never do.
It is pain above any other. Especially, because of the helplessness that is alive and biting, boring into the heart and soul.
Yeah, I get what Paul was doing here.
He was simply being a loving father to those who owned a piece of his heart.

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A Confession

Published by mhelbert on June 27, 2020

Recently I wrote several posts about Unity in the Church.
While much of that is applicable to our everyday relationships with anyone, I want to be clear that my main focus was on the Church. How do we strive for Unity within the Body of Christ?
That was Paul’s focus when he wrote that letter to the Church at Corinth. And, it was mine while writing of our task today.

I also wanted to make it clear that I do NOT support the thoughts or “Sincerely Held Religious Beliefs” of some members of our Tribe. They are hurtful, hateful, and bigoted. They should be called out for what they are, “Barriers to keep “Others” out.”

There are other thoughts, though, that play a similar role.
That of ‘Keeping Ours IN.’
If we are honest, most of us really desire to be a part of something larger than we are. We want to identify with the winning team. (Those of us in the Cleveland, OH area have difficulty relating to that!)
We hope that the tribe that we align with will be regarded as ‘Good’ and ‘Strong.’
I remember when I first chose to follow Jesus I was part of a community of people who truly desired to follow Jesus just like the folks in the First Church. Part of our hope was that the people in the city where we lived would see us living together in love. We tried to embody the communal love of God conspicuously. We were convinced that if the World could only see how Christ followers could truly live together that they would start beating down our doors in order to share in the Love with us.
But, alas, they only saw a bunch of hippies who had horses in the garage.

That didn’t stop us though, from trying to build a counter-culture that could speak to those who were Lost and Wandering in the Darkness that was Secular Culture.
We developed our own music and art. We chose private Christian schools for our children. Or, homeschooled them so that they would not be tainted by the secular doctrines of death that were foist upon unsuspecting public school students.
Our leaders began to show us how our way of thinking and living was the only true and virtuous way.
And, the gatekeepers got stronger.
Soon we had our own stores and businesses. Of course, we were all expected to patronize these because, well, they were Christian, Silly! It didn’t matter that they were not nearly as good as the secular places. They were members of our Tribe!
The music that we developed was, at best, second rate. One singer asked the question in a song, “Why Should The Devil Have All The Good Music?”
Well, because ours was just bad!!!
Yet, we kept forging ahead trying to develop “Real, True Christian Stuff” so that we didn’t need to sully ourselves with that worldly stuff.

Those who told us that they were anointed to lead us continued to direct us toward so-called Godly writers and teachers and other guides who would help us to become more and more transformed into the likeness of the god that we created.

People like James Dobson became our life gurus on how to raise children. Others, like Dave Ramsey, started groups to advise us on financial matters. These people, and many others, touted a Biblical Standard that would enable everyone who followed their practices to live free in an imagined “Bible Land” where we would thrive in Holy Peace.

In the community I was a part of the leaders actively taught these principles. And, because of the heavy-handed pastoral guidance that was part of our life together, many times demanded our compliance.
Of course, this was done because the ‘loved’ us and only desired that we be free to worship God in Spirit and Truth.

So, we willingly followed like sheep follow their beloved shepherd. In fact, that very image was used to describe our relationship with the leadership.

Here’s the rub for me as I look back.

No one put a gun to my head and told me that I HAD to comply with this. I followed them willingly. Even when I knew that something didn’t sound or feel right. I rationalized away my concerns because I Trusted these people to guide me.
I placed my life and my family’s in the hands of men who said that they were leading us along the Straight and Narrow path that would ensure our well-being, indeed, our very salvation.
I chose that path.

Until, I didn’t.

The damage that I did to my family and myself is my own responsibility. I checked my brain at the door and lived in a world where I could say to God, “It wasn’t me, Lord! I just did what I was told by those guys that YOU PUT IN CHARGE! Not my fault!”

But, it was my fault.

We humans like to deflect responsibility from ourselves when there are negative outcomes.
Just like Flip Wilson so many years ago, “The devil made me do it!”
I could point at those leaders and say, “But, they told me to do that!” like it was some sort of magic get out of jail free card.

It wasn’t.
I am still the only person responsible for my actions.
And, they have not always been virtuous.
Lack of faithfulness to my wife and family? — Check.
Poor stewardship of my resources? — Check.
Lousy parenting? — Yep, that too.
Unloving son and brother? — Check.

I could go on and on.

The point of all of this is that I gave my God-Given responsibilities to people who were never supposed to take them from me.
I did that.
Me.
Alone.

I bear the responsibility for my own failings.
Unfortunately, others bear the the scars from my failings.
For that, I am deeply sorry.
I knew better.
But, I did worse.

This is the danger of placing one’s trust in others who, themselves, are struggling and ignorant of the hurt that they inflict on people.

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On A Positive Note…

Published by mhelbert on April 16, 2020

I have spent a lot of time over the years trying to expose the negative side of the Church.
The abuses of authority; the harmful theology; the elevation of ME above all else.
These criticisms are well deserved. People have been harmed by the Church. And, it really doesn’t matter what flavor Church. Protestant, Roman Catholic, and Orthodox are all culpable in the abuses.
The public results of these abuses, besides lives ruined, includes the loss of any claim to the so-called Moral High Ground.
In other words, the Church has destroyed her ability to be a Blessing to the Cosmos.

So, what should things look like?
Honestly, no one can say for certain what God has planned for it.
But, we can sketch a few things.
Things that, rather than tearing down, may reveal a way forward in Love and Faithfulness.

So, let’s start.
In the beginning….

The writers of Holy Scripture were people just like us. They lived in a particular time, place, and culture that colored the words that they wrote. So, for them such things as a cosmos that was created Ex Nihilo was just the way things were.
These writers presented their readers with a problem. The problem was, God created the Heavens and the Earth. In God’s abundant Love humans were made for the expressed purpose of caring for the Earth as God’s Special Envoys. The intent was for humanity to embody God’s glory as Eikons of God. They would rule jointly with God over the creation.
But, there was a problem. Humanity could not live up to God’s calling. They were, after all, made of the same stuff that the cosmos was…dust.
Soon the problem came to a head when humanity took it upon themselves to listen to and embrace other creatures. Idolatry and the corruption that comes with that began to mar the Very Good Cosmos that God had made.
But, God was still convinced that humanity MUST be a part of God’s plan for guiding and caring for the World.
So, God ‘elected’ a family.
For those who know a little about the story of Israel, you will have heard of a guy named Abraham. God chose Abraham and his descendants to become the agents of God’s blessing for the Cosmos. The story continues through Abraham’s grandson, Jacob, to the selection of a community, Israel.
Israel’s history was checkered at best.
But, God had made a covenant with Abraham that, because of Abraham’s faithfulness to God’s promises, stated that the entire Cosmos would be blessed.
God took that Covenant seriously and was faithful to it in spite of Israel’s inability to live up to its calling.
In time, God, who had chosen Israel as the people through whom the blessing would come, raised up One Person from Israel.
This One Person became God’s own Image-bearer. An image-bearer who would do what the original humans, nor Israel, could.
Through the death of Jesus the problem of humanity’s inability to live up to God’s Glorious Calling at the beginning was solved. The resurrection of Jesus from the grave proved God’s faithfulness to set things right.

Ok, nice story.
But, so what?

God had done something that no one expected.
Because of the faithfulness of Jesus, all of humanity had the opportunity to share in Jesus’ faithfulness. We, in fact, have been joined together into the family of God’s Promise to Abraham. We are benefactors of God’s Covenant with Abraham.
God, in God’s own love and Being, put us into a Community.
A living Community where God’s own Spirit lives and brings life.
We are not a bunch of individuals going about our own personal business. Living in our own personal salvation.
No.
We are, as Peter wrote, ‘A royal priesthood and a Holy Nation.’

We. Belong. Together.

Together we are to be a blessing to the whole Cosmos.
Together we reflect the Glory of God to each other, to God, and to the World.
Together!
Together!

That is our hope and our calling.
And, that’s a good thing.

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From Generation to Generation

Published by mhelbert on February 5, 2020

It’s odd how certain thoughts and ideas pop into your head.
Churning and turning over and over and over….
See how the myriad facets of that thought present their varying colors and perspectives. Sewing themselves into the fabric of your mind.
Amazing!

What does that have to do with anything?
Well, this morning my mind wandered to how one generation’s life and experience influence those that follow.
I know that this is something that we in the West don’t often consider.
We think that each person is an individual who is capable of building her life on her own. Through hard work and grit people can slough off any and all encumbrances and create a successful life…for themselves.

But, is that an entirely accurate idea?

I’m not so sure.

My Dad’s mother died when he was very young. His father remarried.
Eventually, his father, an alcoholic, left them and moved away. So, he was raised by his step-mother.
It was late in his life when he told me anything about that time in his life.
His step-mother was truly a bitch. She abused him in passive-aggressive ways that left lasting scars.
As a result, he withdrew into himself.
He became known to others by his quietness. His high school yearbook noted that he didn’t say much, but what he said was profound.
He never experienced true intimacy with anyone.
Yeah, he had a special relationship with my mom. His love was as deep as the ocean. His devotion to her unwavering. But, even with her, he held his feelings close to himself. It seemed that only after his mind began to fail him toward the end of his life that he began to open that long-closed box that contained his heart.
Nature and Nurture.
Joined to create a New Thing.
Dysfunction.

As I wrote before, I was adopted.
I was torn from my mother and placed in an institution.
I was given to my adoptive parents while still and infant.
But, damage was done.
All of the experts agree that attachments are necessarily created, bonds of love and trust, at this early age.
Although my adoptive parents cared for me, gave me their name, and provided stability and security for me, they will always be at best High Level Foster Parents.
It seems that only those who do the adopting consider that their new child is truly theirs. No one who keeps these stats and stories ever really asks those who were adopted. No one seems to really consider our insight into our own lives.
I don’t want to take anything away from my mom and dad. They loved me and supported me in their way. I will always have deep gratitude for the life they provided and the sacrifices that they made.
But, the ability for me to make intimate links with anyone was diminished. If not totally destroyed.
I withdrew into myself.
I tried to emulate Mr. Spock. Suppressing my emotions, stuffing my feelings, became my ultimate goal.
We all know that’s an impossible task.
Rather, my emotions raged like a class 5 hurricane. They found no true or constructive outlet. So, as I worked to contain the storm within, damage was done.
Nature and Nurture.
Joined to create a new thing.
Dysfunction.

Those are two generations in which similar circumstances created similar narratives.

My brain goes to these places as I try to come to grips with dysfunction, not only in my own life, but in my family and among my friends.
There is something to the idea of generational influence. For good or ill; better or worse.
These are things that we have absolutely no control over. They have been handed to us by those who came first.

We can, however, make choices on how to engage these things.
I know that I will never be able to experience a truly intimate relationship with anyone. There are too many issues deeply embedded in my soul to allow that.
But, I can push myself to learn new ways to deal with that.
The first and perhaps most important way is to be honest with myself about these things.
Second, I can learn to forgive those who preceded me. Both the one who gave me away and the ones who took me in.
They are no more perfect than I am. I have to be able to extend them the grace to be human.
Third, and perhaps most important, I must learn to forgive myself.
Because I am acutely aware of my own shortcomings, my own “sin,” it’s easy to find myself swimming in an ocean of guilt and shame.
That’s hard.
The guilt and shame were truly earned.
But, I can’t…I mustn’t…live there.
That compounds hurt upon hurt.
That leads to death.
Spiritual; emotional; physical.

We give too little consideration for anything beyond the tiny sphere in which we live.
We think, mistakenly, that we are an individual who is a self-contained entity with no ties to anything outside of ourselves.

That’s a lie.

Don’t believe that for an instant.

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#adoptee

Published by mhelbert on January 24, 2020

I came across that hashtag on twitter yesterday.
Since I am one, I decided to see where it would lead.
To say that I was unprepared for what I read would be understating things.
The amount of hurt and anger radiating from these tweets would rival the sun’s heat.
I was truly taken by surprise.

I didn’t experience the same emotions that many of these other adoptees did.
As I reflect back on my childhood, I really don’t know why I didn’t have those feelings.

Abandonment.
Loneliness.
Isolation.

Perhaps my adoptive parents were just different than others.
Maybe they cared enough that I didn’t consider myself anything less than their son.
Even though they never hid the fact that I was adopted, they always treated me like their own.
So, maybe I was special in that regard.
I grew up with nothing but gratitude to them for giving me a chance at a good life.

I do remember asking about my birth parents. What I don’t remember are answers to that. Like many of the folks tweeting about this, my adoptive parents deflected that question. They tried to get me to focus on what I had with them. Not what I might have had in another life.
I really can’t blame them too much for that. They had feelings that they wanted to protect. I suppose the prospect of rejection from the person that they felt they had sacrificed so much for was difficult for them.
You see, my adoptive parents had tried for nearly a decade to have a child of their own. Physical issues didn’t allow that. They wanted to have children, though. So, they took the only avenue that was open to them.
Adoption.
For that, I should be grateful, I guess.

There was something missing, though.
As a young child I had no idea what that was.
I had neither the ability to process those feelings, nor the language to express them.
So, for the most part, I stuffed them.
I remember when I was 12 I was talking to friend who was also an adoptee. When I shared some of my regrets at not knowing anything about my birth parents, he told me not to think about them. His feeling was that his birth parents didn’t love him enough to keep him. So, screw them. They weren’t worth the effort to even consider.
I accepted his logic. Hey, it made sense to 12 year old me!

And, I lived with that assessment.
I never gave my birth parents another thought.
Yeah, I was reminded that I was a type of singularity with no roots every time I went to the doctor and had to answer the question about family traits with, “I’m adopted.”
But, even that became a point of pride with me. It made the doctor squirm a bit. I liked that.

When I got married I suppose my wife and I discussed the fact that we had no idea what kind of genetic issues might lie hidden in my closed adoption records. But, we didn’t let that stop us from bring new life of our own into the world. Yeah, it might have been helpful. We realized, though, that even in the most solid families with a great pedigree having children can be a crapshoot. Likewise, birth families with a history of physical and mental issues can produce a perfectly well-adjusted child. As they say, There are no guarantees.

What changed the equation for me was the night I received a phone call. The person on the other end introduced himself as the husband of my sister.
Hmmm…I don’t have a sister.
Or, do I?
My first inclination was that this was a scam of some sort. Even though the voice gave me all sorts of details about the person he said was my birth mother, I had no way to corroborate those. I knew nothing about her.

We met that evening.
I took my wife and we drove to the place that we had arranged.
When we walked in I spotted them immediately.
Over in the corner of the restaurant was a young woman who was more frightened than any deer caught in headlights.
Yep! That’s her!
We sat down and introductions were made all the way round.

The story of their surprise trip was, well, interesting.
It turns out that our mother was emotionally handicapped. At some point she was, as my newly minted brother-in-law said, “Taken advantage of” by an older man.
Voila! Enter Me.
Our mother was living with her parents who were apparently abusive. They force her to give me up.
Now, we need to understand that in the year that I was born was during a time when abortion was illegal. Mothers of children born in our circumstances were shunned and treated like whores. The social stigma of this was a price too high for them to pay.

So, I was placed in some kind of orphanage. At least,that’s what I was told.
When I was 6 months old, my adoptive parents entered. I had a rather pronounced birthmark on my upper lip. So, at that time I was considered “handicapped.” That didn’t stop this couple from taking me in as their own.
Again, I should be grateful. I could have easily languished in “The System” for years. But, I was placed in a warm and loving home.
And, I never really looked back.

After I met my sister, the time came for me to meet my birth mother.
You see, the whole reason that my sister tracked me down was because our mother, besides her disability, was overcome with remorse for her lost son. She lamented the choice that had been made for her by her parents. So, my sister and her then husband thought that if they could locate me that would bring some closure and peace to our mother.
So, we drove to their place and met her.
The meeting was good, I think. Our mother was overjoyed at finally finding me. We did all of the first time meeting stuff with hugs all around and tears and all of that.
We set up a time for them to come to our place and visit.

Then, I told my adoptive parents what was happening.
I’m not sure what they felt. Hurt? Anger? Fear? All of the above.
My mom said that she had feared this day. She asked question about what I had learned. When I answered them, she admitted that she knew the answers were correct because she had the documentation that identified my birth mother. She had my original birth certificate with the name that my birth mother had originally given me.
She knew these things and never told them to me.
Again, I can understand her actions. I get it.
I’m not sure that I will ever agree with them, though.

Be that as it may, this is the life I’ve been given. I have no choice but to accept it an get on with it.
And, it has been a good life over all.

There were things, though, that didn’t seem to add up.
So, I began to seek counselling.
Over the years those folks I talked to have all stopped when I told them of my adoption. All of them point to that one event as being the primary shaper of who I am. And, in every case, I doubted them.
After all, I was only 6 months old! How much could that short time be problematic?

Well, apparently a lot.
The lack of emotional connection in the earliest DAYS of life can have devastating effects on a person.
How?
In my case it is most pronounced in my own inability to form and maintain any close emotional connections with others.
This has snowballed into people considering me aloof, selfish, closed, and distant.
And, people are right!
I am all of those. And, more.

Are they a result of my separation and disconnect from my birth mother?
Maybe.
Or, do they have their roots in the fact that my adoptive dad was also aloof and seemingly unable to make deep emotional connections?
Maybe, I got hit with a double-whammy!

In any case, here I am over six decades later still wondering…still imagining.

Will anything be proven by anger, hurt, or any other negative feelings toward either my adoptive parents or my birth mother?
Oh, hell no.
That would only amount to me punishing me for something that I had no control over.

All I can really do is try to live into the life that I have created with my wife and our family. No, I don’t do it all that well. Like I said, close emotional bonds are not something that I am capable of.
But, I can’t blame those who came before me for what I have done with the raw materials that I was given by means of both nature and nurture.

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The Times They Are A’changin’

Published by mhelbert on January 1, 2020

First, I wish that you all will have a happy and prosperous New Year in 2020. The ball dropped. The old is past. Hope looks ahead.

Many of us look to this date as a resetting of the clock. We are full of optimism and hope for fresh changes in the twelve months that lie ahead. Resolutions for personal improvement and growth are made once the effects of last night wear off. (Hint: Hydrate, Hydrate, Hydrate!)
Then, by February the resolutions are largely forgotten and we get on with life as usual. In my entire life I only made one resolution that I successfully implemented. That was to never make a New Year’s resolution. I have kept that one.

I am not going to have the luxury of allowing life to simply carry on as usual this year. There are changes coming that will upend the routines that I’ve spent nearly 50 years building and reinforcing. They say that time waits for no one. This year is proof of that.

And, I have to admit to no small amount of fear and uncertainty. Any changes that come our way cause anxiety. Major life events, no matter how well prepared for, bring that anxiety on steroids.
I remember how my wife and I walked into marriage 43 years ago. Yeah, there was great joy and celebration. But, our lives were changed that day. We looked forward to our life together with optimism and fear. A strange emotional cocktail. We drank it, however, and for better or worse we have muddled our way through.

We looked forward with happy expectation as our children entered the world and joined us on this journey.
Again, though, worries and anxiety came to the party.
How would we be as parents?
Concerns about finances, health, housing, education, etc., etc., etc. clouded our minds every day.
Life as we knew it had changed forever.

We watched as our own parents aged and walked on from this life.
Our friends and siblings grew up and apart over the years.
People change.
That’s part of the journey, isn’t it?

And, still we trek on. Putting one foot in front of the other.
In the midst of, or perhaps, in spite of the anxiety.

The alternative is to stop walking.
The result of that is to wake up on the wrong side of the grass.

All of that to say, 2020 will be a year of profound change for us.
And, yes, I am afraid of what lies ahead.
It is an unknown.
If thar be beasties out there, then we’ll meet them together.

Perhaps, though, there is a new world awaiting us with new joys and gifts and promises.

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It’s The Most Wonderful Time…

Published by mhelbert on December 5, 2019

“You better hustle your bustle, Missy!” he said to the young girl.
Her small hand holding firm to his as her short legs churned to keep up.
“We don’t want to be late, now. Do we?”
Looking up she saw the broad smile across her Dad’s face.
Eyes glittering, she smiled back and shook her head.

They walked past store windows with bright displays of Christmas trees and gifts. Trains chugga-chugged around the bottom of the trees. Real smoke huffing and puffing from the locomotives.
Characters dressed up in caps and scarfs, heads moving back and forth as carols rang out, stood next to stacks of wrapped boxes.

The man and his daughter walked through a great, revolving door into a huge store. People rushing about with bags and packages in their arms. Others milling about counters sniffing various fragrances. Other children standing next to those people looking bored.

To the escalator the two hurried.
Second floor: Housewares
Hurry around to the next set of moving stairs.
Third floor: Bedding and Curtains.
One more time around the block!
Fourth floor…
Christmas Town!

The young girl looked around, her eyes wide with amazement.
There were trees decorated with all different colors of lights and ornaments.
White puffs that looked like snow covered the floors next to the aisles.
Row after row of toys and elves stood all around them.

At the end of one aisle there was a tall red and white poll standing.
Beneath it there was a team of reindeer pawing the ground and bobbing their heads.
A great, red sleigh sat behind them.

“Hurry, Daddy!” the girl cried. “There’s already a line!”
“You run and get in line,” he said releasing her hand.
As she queued up, she looked back at him.
Her eyes aglow, a great smile that seemed to light up her face.
Soon, she would see, well, you know…

May your hopes and dreams and the anticipation of good things bring you joy as you walk through this most wonderful time of the year.

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Happy Thanksgiving!

Published by mhelbert on November 28, 2019

To all who celebrate Thanksgiving…

May your day be filled with joy and peace.
May those around you bring you comfort.
And, in these things may we be thankful.

Also…

May you be safe.
If the stress and pressure mounts,
May you find a peaceful place where your heart may be quiet.
For soon enough the day will pass.
Then, we may be thankful.

Blessings to you all.

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