Into the Fire

                        (From my novel Breath of Life, published in 2011.)

     “Hi, Mom,” I said with a sigh. Time for my mother to check in on her wayward son—the one whose wife left him for another man. The son who has yet to add his offspring to their growing number of grandchildren. “Good, yeah. Doing well,” I lied.

     “I’m not lyin’, Mom,” I lied again. How come mothers always know when you aren’t telling the absolute truth? It’s like a heat seeking missile zeroing in on that red warm mark that belches out the lie, regardless of how small and inconsequential. “How’re you and Dad?”

     I listened gratefully to the recitation of their latest adventures and plans. They’d both worked hard in their lives and deserved all the fun and happiness to be had on this planet. I never wondered if they were ever tempted to leave each other. In fact, it had never occurred to me until this very moment.

     “Wow. Yeah, sure. Don’t know if I’ll do that, but, sure, yeah, I want to come up for the day. It’ll be fun to see Joseph and family again.” My older brother, awesome guy that he was. He cared deeply about me—I knew that. It’s just that I felt like such a screw-up compared to him. And it had nothing to do with the normal “success” type things like making money, which I did, and a relatively successful career, which I had. No, it was more to do with having a family and the core value that having one produced.

     Joseph and I had a brief separation of closeness over Kate. Come to find out, she wasn’t worth it. I know that sounds bitter, but it’s true. She wasn’t worth the blank time of not having a rapport with my older brother who truly loved me for who I was and was so concerned about my happiness he told me I was making a mistake marrying Kate. Never once did he say “I told you so” when it all fell apart. Joseph risked my wrath, which he received in full, in hopes that I could see the potential for things going haywire. Which I refused to do even though there were definite indicators of that strong possibility which I vehemently chose to ignore and defended against to the death—or at least to the temporary death of the relationship with my beloved brother Joseph. (After our marriage was completed, Joseph and I resumed our rapport.) If you want the truth, Kate had me in the bedroom department. Hook, line, and sinker. I loved sleeping with the woman.

     Apparently it wasn’t quite the same for her after awhile.

     “Uh, yeah, Mom. Great. Thanksgiving it is, then. Tell Dad I love him, and you know I love you, too.” . . . “I don’t try to be a stranger, Mom. It’s just getting up there, you know? But I’ll definitely try and make it before Thanksgiving, alright?”

     Her kind doubt expressed.

     “Yes, I will, Mom, honest.” And I meant it this time.

Father, again and again I say it: Apart from you, I can do nothing. Thank you for it all. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.