It was the last quarter of 1992, when we were told by my youngest daughter Susie, that she was pregnant.
Barely sixteen, it seemed she really wasn’t old enough to wear make-up much less be having a baby. It took a while for this to sink in, and just slightly get a handle on the situation, when she told me it was from a black man.
I don’t know whether I peed in my pant, or just threw an old fashion temper-tantrum, but this was not a pleasant experience for her mom and especially not for me. Seeing how, again I was proven to be a failure as a parent, at least in my mind.
As time went on, and it always does, I began to accept the way things were, and not necessarily the way I wanted them to be.
Yes, I was still a control freak, all people that have panic attacks are, but I did realize that I couldn’t change this situation. So, as it got closer to her due time, I pretty much kept my mouth shut, except for the occasional lecture that Susie had to listen to more than was comfortable for her to hear.
I had never considered myself to be prejudice, but looking back at this trying time, I was. Not enough so that my children knew it, but it was hid away somewhere in that pee-brain of mine. The N-word was used more than I care to admit, but it was used.
On Susie’s due day, while she was in her room at the hospital, I was sitting out in the hall praying about this dilemma. I don’t know how to explain what happened, but I’ll give it a try: As I was praying, talking to God, I heard His voice as clear as could be. His distinct, but subtle voice was speaking to me saying; “Ross, for one time, I’m going to give you the power of life.” My response was: “What do you mean by this Lord.” “If you want this baby to die, then you have the power to see it through”, He said as I was carefully listening. At that point I began to talk out loud. “If I have the power to give this life or to take it away, then I want it taken away.”
As I walked back into Susie’s room, her son Tevin, my first grandson, was being born. This was not a pleasant sight, not only did Susie have some difficulty, but when the little boy came out, he was pink, but not breathing. The nurses broke his arm in the process. Here the little baby was, not breathing, and now turning blue. After laying him on a table, several people gathered around him with paddles, suction bottles, and all kinds of things to bring life into this child for the first time, but they were unsuccessful. Tevin had turned this putrid color of gray. They all walked away after covering his little body completely with a blanket.
So, I walked back out to the hallway with success on my mind. Got rid of that n----r, and could now save face at the same time. Sitting down on a bench, I began to go over what had just happened, and it dawned on me that the only person I was thinking about was me. Never gave a thought about what Susie would think, and the pain that she’d feel when she realized what happened to her son.
I put my head between my legs and began to pray, or I should say plainly talk to God. “Lord, I’m not sure I made the right decision.”
He spoke back to me and said, “It’s your decision to make, right now you have the power to give life or take it away.”
Thinking for just a few moments, I spoke in a loud voice; “I want Tevin to live, YES!!!! I want him to live!”
Running back into the room where all this was taking place, I looked over to the blanket that the nurses had placed over the little body, and heard a small, but distinct, grunting sound, or maybe it was more like a squeaking sound. But none the less, a sound, and immediately every health care worker in the room ran to the small tray he was laying in, and one of them slapped him on the hind-end, and Tevin began to cry. It had been a full eleven minutes that all this had taken place. So brain damage was now our main issue, and his shoulder was torn loose.
That day my life changed, but it would still take a while to process all that took place. Tevin was a beautiful, healthy little boy, and God had His hand on him, and on me too.
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Three months after my middle child gave birth, I’d met this girl, I mean woman named Pam, and we’d been talking on the phone for weeks before we actually met. On the evening that we did meet was a wonderful experience for me. Still scared and a little gun shy, I was trying to move in the relationship with her very slowly, But that wasn’t happening, I was falling fast for this lady. After all it had been over a year since my divorce, and the past year was just Matt and I, and maybe getting a little lonely.
On our first date we went on a river boat ride, (you know, one of them paddle boats), and really had a good, enjoyable and exciting night.
Several weeks later after going out and doing things together, it was very late one night when I took her home. (This story is not meant to kiss and tell, but I have to tell this part to say what was to happen to me.) So one night we spent the night together, and on the next morning, while driving home, I began to reflect on all that was happening. This was the first time that I’d been with anyone other than my ex-wife since I was married twenty-two years ago.
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After making it home, I sat in my chair, and still reflecting, I had a little talk with my Lord. “Lord, you know what happened last night don’t you?” His answer was; “yes I do.” So I continued; “Does this make a difference in the relationship between me and you?” His response was completely different than I’d expected.
He said; “Ross, I love you”. “But Lord,” I snapped back rather quickly, “maybe you don’t understand what I am saying, (That was really a silly thing to say to God, of course He knew what I was saying,) If given the chance, I’d do it again, will that make a difference.”
After a short silence, I heard His voice once more. “Yes, Ross, that will make a difference.” “What will it change Lord?” I asked again. Again He spoke; “It will make a difference, and nothing will change, I loved you before and I will love you again. Nothing can separate you from my love, I will always love you, always have.”
Wow! This short conversation made the biggest impact in my life, and set me free to see things, many things and open up a realm in my life that would open doors so I could be completely healed and delivered from all the darkness that had followed me from my youth up.
Even though my parents and others loved me, this was the first time that I felt and received love, real love. I no longer had to run away in fear of rejection, or be afraid of betrayal. So I shouted to the Lord in the quietness of my home: “Lord, I believe you, and I make a commitment to you that I will never run again.” His soft voice spoke again, while I was expecting no response, “Ross, I want you to run”. I spoke back; “WHAT! Running away is what is killing me. Why would you want me to keep running?”
After another short silence, and with a voice that cut deep into the heart, but was very pleasant, I heard: “Ross, Not only are you to keep running, my call on your life is to run. All that has to happen is for you to turn around, and run to me.” It was easy that day to fall-in-love, and I did, with my Lord and my God. All because I had done something that I was taught all my life that was wrong. I’m not saying it was right, what happened, but God took a simple, silly, fleshly thing in my life and made it work together for good. Because, I loved Him.
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It was, as I was sitting at home that beautiful, late spring day that the phone rang and it was Michelle, my brother Todd’s wife. Answering, Michelle told me that Todd was dead; he’d gotten killed on an aircraft carrier while serving in the Navy.
This was not news that I wanted to hear, but was slightly more prepared for it, at least maturity wise, than I was when Mom died.
After telling my Dad and my brothers, Doyle and Scott, and my sister Karen, it was a heart wrenching day to have to go through. Having Pam for support was a help, but not a cure.
A few days later Pam and I went to the top of the Smoky Mts., to this place called ‘Top of the World’, on the Blue Ridge Parkway, at night, and just laid there on our backs silently, just looking at the many stars that one could see on a moonless night. Neither one of us spoke a word, we just laid there looking up, and again I began to ponder the last week and all that had taken place in me and to me.
I began to cry, it was a deep, deep cry from within. There were no sounds in my crying, just a penetrated reflex coming from my diaphragm, and lots and lots of tears. (You know, the kind that feel wonderful).
As I laid there in amazement, I opened my mouth and for the next two or three minutes, there were these sparkly little flecks coming out of my mouth like little butterflies. Not understanding this even slightly. We laid there for about an hour, and then we got up to go home, without either of us really speaking.
The next morning, right after getting up, Matt was already gone to school; I noticed that I had lost some weight, lots of weight. I’m talking close to thirty-five pounds.
Then again God spoke to me: “Ross, That was forty-three years of demons that came out of you on that mountain.” That was all that was said, but it was enough.
This was the day that I’d grown from childhood to adulthood. Yes I did become a man that day, maybe it’s safer to say that week, but the change had taken place. Looking back some eighteen years, I was a man, about as immature a man as a person can be but never-the-less….. I can now say; I was an adult.
Just because I stepped over the threshold to adulthood doesn’t necessarily mean that a fellow has to be a full fledge, all grown up, do everything right, thinking straight, and most responsible person that had ever lived, but I WAS a man.
Don’t get me wrong here, I had lots of growing up to do, but now I had the tools to do it with. It’s kind of like making the varsity team, and thinking of yourself as the best there is in your sport, that you can ever be. Not so, this was just the beginning of a much more mature walk, and a completely different faze of my life.
A new, an excitingly new change that can take me places I’ve never been. Only at this time would I allow someone to call me mister, and that was still uncomfortable.
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Anyway, getting back to my relationship with Pam, it lasted, on and off for the next seven years. After one of our many, what I would call mini break-ups, I was tore all to pieces, and needed some help. Thinking about the lady that had so much influence a year or so earlier, I gave her a call and made an appointment.
Tuesday, I took off to Chattanooga for my first session, and was a little scared but at the same time, excited, because I realized I still needed help, and I thought she could give it. Didn’t know at the time just how much help I really needed.
I’m still a little skeptical about counseling, but understand at this point that I do need help. This lady, Linda, was the kind of therapist that would get in your face, and tell it to you straight. We met every Tuesday evening for group sessions, and there were about twelve to eighteen of us that would meet for about two hours.
I’m thinking, yes, all of us needed help, maybe even call us crazy, but the one thing we all had in common was; we all had a goal to get well. That’s not a bad place to be, we all volunteered to meet in a group, and all admitted to having some type of a problem. Where else can a fellow be where all that’s there had similar directions for their lives. Admitting one has a problem is half the cure, so in that since we were the healthiest people, most don’t have enough concern, or love, for themselves to be there.
Many had problems that you could put a tag on, some had major problems, and some of us couldn’t be labeled and went to therapy to better ourselves. But all in all it was a good group, and every night I’d come home understanding a little more about myself, and many nights the drive home was tearful. Mostly, we’d see and relate to defects in others that were similar to our own, and how they dealt with them, or lack of dealing with them, and how it was affecting their lives.
My problems were; I really didn’t know who I was, didn’t know how to feel, or what I was feeling, nor did I know how to communicate. Somehow through the ‘protect yourself mode’. I would shut down, and not receive the stabs, or slanders, or any hurtful remarks, and do this by turning off my inner feelings. Therefore I was protecting me, by not feeling them.
Didn’t take long to realize this was an unhealthy approach, and was one major problem I had. Learned early, even if it hurts, even hurts down deep, it’s still better to recognize the hurt and allow it into your being, than to shut it off by pretending it’s not there. No pain, no gain. I was there to gain, not to mention get my money’s worth, so I went home many, many nights with my face wet from tears.
I made a good student, no one was making me be there, just wanted to grow, and learn who this person inside of me was.
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Remember the short story a little earlier that I spoke about running? All my life, I was a runner, I’d run from everything, everyplace, every person, heck, I spent my life running from myself. That was the time God spoke to me and ask me to keep running, but to turn around and run to Him. Didn’t know how, but I was going to learn.
Guess I better not bore you by going on and on about my six or seven years that I spent, but rather enjoyed, in counseling, but this was a very important part of my early growing-up, manhood years. Learned much about myself, and the problems many others were having.
I’d like to share a few of the patterns that so many, even those who are skimping by, individuals, and families occur without even know what they are up against. Things that were imbedded in them from childhood.