Oftentimes, when someone is facing a terminal diagnosis; they begin to think about where they will spend eternity. I can only guess what my birth mom was feeling or thinking after speaking with her doctor about her cancer. At that particular time, the word “cancer” was scarier since there were not a lot of effective treatment options. In 1971, most people understood that cancer meant eminent death. I can only guess that this is the reason that my birth mom started attending church regularly. She would take me along and whichever sibling that she could talk into going with us.
As for what I remembered; it was not so much about faith and religion, but I did remember the church sanctuary and sometimes falling asleep on the cushioned pews next to mom. I do know that she worried deeply about the lives of her children after she was gone. I would look up at her when she prayed and I could see tears running down her cheek. I distinctly remember church people dropping by to pray for and attempt to “save” her wayward children.
My older siblings were mostly angry and upset about things that they had absolutely no control over. While I am sure that the church people meant well, their message in that moment was not positively received. One even went so far as to blame my mom’s cancer on their poor behavior; even though her dire condition was probably due to the cigarettes that she had smoked since she was a teenager.
A little over four years after her passing, one of our neighbors invited me to attend vacation bible school with him. For the most part, the activities took place in the church basement. On the final night however, the week concluded in the church sanctuary. As soon as I sat down, a memory sparked, and things became surreal for me very quickly. It was the same church that I attended with my birth mom. As crazy as it might sound, I felt her.
As the minister began to speak about salvation, things began to make sense to me. What spoke to me most was about God’s grace being for everyone. All the negative things that I had encountered and all the negative things that I had said and done didn’t matter. At that moment, I understood what my birth mom felt and hoped for in her last few months.
When the alter call was made, I felt a force that was not my own urging me to stand and then to kneel as I recited the “Sinner’s Prayer” for the first time. I felt a peace that I hadn’t felt since my last visit with mom in the hospital before she died. Somehow, I knew wherever she was; she was alright.
Reflection
More than any other event, this was the greatest turning point in my life. As I delved further into my faith, I found myself at odds with my adoptive parents. While they had almost relegated me to the role of “black sheep” because of the socio-economic class that I came from; now things were different in a moral and spiritual sense.
Part of me was still angry because of their cruelty and abuse, but a new part of me pitied them as the lost souls that they were. I prayed for them and eventually we began going to a church of their choosing; but I think that they only thought that faith was a thing to be practiced on Sundays. I wondered if either of them had ever experienced that same “coming to Jesus moment” that I had. It saddened me.
In a way, I had traded the heartache and grieving that I had over losing my birth mom for concern for my adoptive parents. Yes, my faith compelled me to forgive then, but it is difficult to move forward in a relationship when the abusers take no ownership to their actions and offer any kind of rationale for what they did. Conversations on the matter were quickly dismissed or outright denied. I can at least rest on knowing that I became richer for the experience and ended the cycle of generational abuse.
In forgiving them, I understood that they simply could not relate. How could they possibly know what I was feeling? Ultimately, all of those horrible things that I had lived through, drew me to my salvation and my faith. Surely, Romans 8:28 is true in saying:
“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.”
Going forward from that moment. I felt loved and valued despite anything the world or anybody in it did to me. I guess you could say that it gave me a sense of purpose; and I think that every kid needs that; no matter where they come from.