Can I Be Wrong?
Admitting that you are wrong is so humbling. Maybe someone’s different perspective is sufficient to cause a rethink. Would eye witness reports from one that you trust result in an admission of being wrong? One might say that facts speak for themselves, but aren’t facts open to interpretation? And what about taking into account opposing facts or reports? Sounds like I’m searching for a basis to stay married to my own understanding of a situation. However, personal opposing experiences that have remained unchallenged for most of your life make changing your beliefs a monumental challenge. Exploring ways to escape revising the-truth-as-you-know-it are inevitable. Now you have an idea of the struggles faced by Jill, protagonist in my novel, Baggage burdens.
Powerful motivations force Jill to consider the possibility that at least once or twice in the past she has been wrong and that her mistakes caused others and herself to suffer. In one case she must face the real possibility that she won’t see much of her grandchildren unless she admits that she has mistreated Daniel, her eldest son.
In another case she is challenged to change her opinion about the kind of person her father really was. Her father, the man who frequently came home drunk and beat her up. Those experiences resulted in her believing that he was a weak, self-serving person, a mean, unkind man. And yet her mother never really left him. How could she stand him? And Kathy, her sister, the one who also experienced his violent behaviors, also portrays Frank, her father, with uncharacteristic sympathy. How could she? Jill must wonder––am I wrong.
In Jill’s black-and-white-past-memories, she discovers information that casts a grey shadow on her long-held beliefs about herself as a good mother, about her hated and feared father.
You hardly talked to Daniel at the party. Is there a problem?”
Jill’s first reaction is to get up and walk away, to not answer Bill’s question.
Guessing that Bill wants to help her, Jill chooses her words carefully. “I think he blames me for the divorce.” She looks down.
“So this is a short-term problem, a recent development?”
Jill wonders how much more Bill knows about her strained relationship with Daniel. She looks up and finds him studying her closely. Got to be completely truthful. If I don’t, he will see it in my eyes. He always does.
“No. We’ve never been really close.”
“And you’re comfortable with this?”
“No. Of course not. But there’s nothing I can do about it.”
“And if there is, would you be willing to try?”
“Yes.”
Jill’s quick, firm response convinces Bill she’s sincere.
“I might have an idea.” He pauses, afraid to touch what he understands is a festering sore.
“Well?”
Bill looks at Jill’s serious face. “You know in the Bible we’re instructed to confess our sins.” He paraphrases the first and third verses in Psalm 32. “The person who confesses their sins is blessed. The weight of the past mistakes doesn’t become an unbearable burden.”
“I should ask Daniel for forgiveness?”
“To start the healing process, yes.”
“If I remember the Bible reference correctly, it refers to confessing sins to the Lord.”
“And I would suggest that applies to personal relationships too. When the Bible refers to bones wasting away, if you don’t confess your sins, I would say that’s what is happening with your ties in Daniel’s family.”
“You’re stretching it.”
“Then how would you describe your relationship with Daniel’s family? You know, I hear you talk a lot about what Amber, Sarah, and Matthew are doing or how they feel. I never hear you talking about your grandchildren. You’ve said you phone and talk to Eve, your daughter-in-law. I haven’t heard you say you phone and talk to your son. It sounds like you care very little about Daniel.”
Jill yanks her hands free. “So what am I to confess? I haven’t done anything wrong.” Jill slides a few inches away from Bill.
“In your mind, no. There must be something or things that you did that really bothered Daniel. He either disagreed with it or didn’t understand. You need to think back to when you and Daniel began growing apart. See if you can identify what may have caused it.”
“And what if I can’t figure out what is bothering him?”
“Take your time. Think about it. Come up with possibilities. What’s important is that Daniel can see that you’re trying, that you want to fix things up. From what I saw at the party, I have the impression you really want to have more involvement with your grandchildren. Right?”
“Yes.”
“Mend your relationship with Daniel. Then you’ll feel more comfortable phoning and visiting your grandchildren. All I ask is that you think about what I said.”
“Then Alice became ill. There were tests and tests and tests. Eventually, we learned she had lung cancer. When she was hospitalized, Frank spent every minute that he wasn’t at work with her. Near the end, he took a long-term leave and stayed with Alice day and night. What surprised me is he quit drinking. Quit smoking too. Completely. No stepping out for a drag and then returning. One of the times that I convinced Frank to go downstairs and get something to eat, Alice explained his changed behavior. She said Frank was praying for her recovery. He promised God that if she recovered, he would never touch another cigarette or drink again.”
Josey says, “Yes, yes, I know. That wouldn’t turn things around. Alice said she thought it was his way of saying that he would do anything to help her. ‘He really does love me,’ your mom said. I let my bias about his drinking blind me to the possibility that he was capable of any love. I didn’t think he had it in him.”
He loved her! Mom loved him. Impossible, thinks Jill.
“When I first saw him adopt his abstinence role, I thought he was trying to punish himself.”
“Punish himself! For what?” Jill leans forward, eager for an explanation.
“His smoking. I thought he blamed himself for Alice getting lung cancer because he smoked. Maybe that’s the case. I don’t know, but I suspected that was his motivation.”
“But you don’t think so any longer?”
“The time I saw him at the hospital, he seemed to be a completely changed man. He was considerate, caring. No hint of anger. It’s almost like he reverted to the time when he was courting her. Maybe he realized he was about to lose the most important thing in his life. I honestly think if he could have traded places with her, he would have.”
In response to Jill’s look of surprise, Josey says, “Yes. Me too. I found it hard to believe. I guess you had to be there to see it.”
Jill shakes her head in disbelief. This is not the man I knew. Maybe Josey was not in a clear emotional frame of mind to assess Father accurately.
“I don’t blame you for not believing me,” says Josey. “Maybe you’ll believe Kathy. Her opinion of him changed too.”
haiku capsule:
impossible time,
least likely person arrives.
A white knight appears.
Next blog: Black Sheep
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