Timothy Kline: Thoughts and Reflections

Last night, I said several things that now seem to require some additional discussion, as I don’t want to leave a mistaken impression with people. I was simply writing freely, with no real forethought involved. Before I realized it, I had typed up quite a spiel.

To start with, I am angry with the evident inaction on the part of the masses, many of whom I’m sure were distressed when the media started broadcasting images of the struggling wildlife bearing the oily brunt of our unbridled lust for oil. And I am angry when I know that once we’ve pinned our own subconscious guilt on BP and or its leadership (the sacrificial goat I mentioned last night), life will go on as it has. Oh, we’ll claim to “feel” bad that this happened, but when we start to feel those twinges of conscience, those pangs of guilt, we’ll delude ourselves back into the mindset that this was BP’s fault, and if they hadn’t been so greedy and in a rush to pad their corporate bank accounts, this might never have happened.

Yes, it’s indisputably true that we are a stupid people capable of not only being convinced of the craziest nonsense ever before known, but willing to delude ourselves as well!

No matter what people say on this matter, it will invariably come back to an issue that has been at work in the Human condition since “Day One,” when a young man uttered the immortal words, “Am I my brother’s keeper?”

That statement continues to perplex people. And especially people of religious inclination.

There is this pervasive disassociation we enter into in order to avoid responsibility and accountability. That childish whim when trouble arises and the sentence comes out in a rush of breath, “It wasn’t me! It was—” and the child points the finger at the alleged culprit.

That is precisely what I see taking place as the earth’s bosom hemorrhages oil into the lifewaters of the planet. There is the audacious, immature spewing forth of the perpetual lie from the mouths of everyone around me. This constant, sickening drone of self-professed innocence from people who are either totally naive as to the role they played in this ongoing holocaust of life, or too stupid to grasp it.

It is an inescapable fact that we ourselves are the core of the problem because we have allowed it to happen. And for what? For convenience, for the self-assuredness of progress and imaginary prosperity, for ease of life. Am I to believe that people really don’t realize that the petroleum industry has pervaded the Human way of life to such an extent that it has near become impossible to escape its reach? From the gas we incessantly pump into our vehicles to the shampoo we buy, from the gallon of milk we buy at the local market to the trash bag we set out to the curb every week, the petroleum industry is a massive machine of money-making opportunity.

Try, just for a month, to not buy any food packed in plastic. Heck, try not to eat a single food item for a week that hasn’t been somehow encased in plastic! It’s become nearly impossible to do!!

I say nearly, because the reality is that we simply do not care enough to insist otherwise. It’s not really impossible. We either don’t know how to buy food not encased in plastic, or we don’t care and are operating under the ill-conceived notion that God will deal with the miles upon miles of wastelands devoted to the reception and burial of our trash. Some Christians are more than content in adopting the view that since this planet will be burned up anyhow (and they themselves will conveniently be “raptured” before that happens), and that they’ll be given a new earth to play on, then what’s the problem? Let things take their course, and praise the Lord!

Still other Christians hold the view that God will bring to ruin those ruining the earth and see to it that the earth will be restored to its original beauty and glory, and that they themselves will survive God’s coming judgment, blah blah blah blah blah.

How they can justify themselves and be convinced that they’re not ruining the earth, too, is quite beyond the ability of my puny little brain to comprehend or process. “It wasn’t me, God…  THEY did it!”

The Great Teacher, Jesus, tried impressing upon Humans the simple fact that we are all one family. We are a collective body of living, thinking, reasoning beings. We do not get to say “He did it” of someone else. If “he” did it, then we ALL did it. We are ALL guilty. Time and time again, Christians everywhere tout how we came under sin because Adam sinned, but when it comes to us, we quite conveniently go hunting for scapegoats so that we can boast of our self-proclaimed innocence. In case you missed it the first time through, let me repeat what I said: If “he” (our convenient scapegoat) did it, then we ALL did it. There simply is no way to disassociate ourselves from the brotherhood of man, no matter how hard we try to do just that.

It transcends the notion of guilt by association, mind you. But rather than explain what I mean by that, I’ll let you mull that point on your own time.

Let me break it down this way: if you put gas in your vehicle, then you are as guilty as BP and any of the other oil conglomerates who are willingly and wilfully raping the earth of its oil. If you buy your milk in a plastic jug, you are as guilty as the oil magnates who gleefully set the prices of oil from day to day. If you wash your hair with store-bought shampoo, you are guilty. You have, by your guilt, lost the right to judge or condemn BP for this holocaust. You have become a participant.

And yes, I include myself in the brood of human leeches, even though I am making strides in discontinuing my participation in the ruining of the earth through the oil and plastics industries. It’s an uphill battle, that’s for sure. I had no idea about the extent and reach of the petroleum industry into our everyday lives. But now that I am becoming aware, I am cutting it out where I can and slowly making adjustments to my lifestyle.

And where I have not yet been able to cast out plastic and petroleum, I take it angrily and with resentment because I presently do not know of any other options due to the insidious nature of our system of life here in the United States. And it’s that anger, that righteous anger that motivates me to look for alternatives.

I don’t accept complacency as an answer. I refuse to accept that. If you are forced to fill your vehicle with gas in order to get to your job, then I can understand that. But how angry and resentful are you, really, when you do? Or, are you, like most Americans, angry at the price of that gasoline, not at how it’s making you bloodguilty of destroying wildlife in the southern shores of this country, and in lands around the world?

Willingly or not, there is not a single one of us that are not “ruining the earth” through our way of life here in the United States and abroad. So, shouldn’t we be a little more discreet about eagerly longing for that day when God brings to ruin those ruining the earth, and instead praying to God that He forgives us for having done so?

I guess that’s a determination that we, as individuals, will need to make.

It's hard to believe so much time has passed since I last posted!

It’s hard to believe that so much time has passed by since I last posted anything. The days just sort of blend into each successive day, it seems. And while there has been no shortage of fodder which I could write about and I’ve definitely been following the news involving that debacle in the Gulf of Mexico, the fact of the matter is that there isn’t anything I could say about the daily flow of insanity and stupidity that hasnt been said better by someone else. Nor would it make one iota of difference since the Powers That Be and those who empower them through action and inaction, who both seem hellbent on self-destruction.

Let me be absolutely clear about this: there are a LOT of days when I long for humankind to just outright do itself in just so that the remainder of Creation can be rid of our infestation.

That’s not to say that there aren’t moments when we shine as a race. But in this day and age, one has to really look for those moments. I mean look hard.

I know that I’ve become more cynical as a result of the ongoing disregard for our station of responsibility here on this planet, the blatant disregard so evident by our collective actions, our immeasurable display of contempt for the simple fact that the Earth is a living organism, a composite living organism of which we are but one small part.

If we are to boast of ourselves that we are the highest form of (evolved) life on this planet, then where’s the proof? If we may boast anything, anything at all, it’s in our neverending lust for gain, for raping our environment, no holds barred… for our propensity to coddle and embrace leaders who rule over us to our own detriment, all the while basking in the self-imposed ignorance that we can’t do anything about their malevolent reign, their unconscionable decisions, or their persistent insanity. We shrug off the realities which drive us inexorably towards extinction, comforting ourselves in the warm, fuzzy belief that by letting this happen on OUR watch, we are actually enabling God to rescue us from ourselves, we are welcoming the wanton and unchecked violence of this precious blue gem in the universe as we pride ourselves that WE are not counted among those we accuse so boldly of ruining the earth and thus earning the ultimate retribution from God.

We are, as a people, unbelievably bold in our sense of self-importance and arrogance. We thrill at the destruction of those whom we ourselves have empowered and persist in supporting, all the while living under the pretense that we are not the problem, we aren’t guilty. Our hands are clean. Let God destroy those bad men, but we can stand proudly, bathed in our conviction of self-imposed innocence.

People feel a momentary twinge of anger, even disgust, when they see images of struggling wildlife bearing the onerous cost of our lust for oil and other non-renewable resources. Even now, people are highly motivated to find their scapegoat, some individual or corporation that can be pronounced as being the “blame” and that can figuratively bear the sins of a wicked people off into the wilderness so that we can carry on in our loathsome waywardness, continuing to plunder and rape our environment.

Let’s face it: even if we see the hundreds of birds, thousands of living creatures in the ocean, the environmental damage in toto, we are not going to stop. I know, because we ARE seeing evidence of the fallout from this genocide of wildlife in articles, scientific reports, websites, news reports, and just about everywhere else you turn, and we’re doing absolutely nothing to demonstrate that we are now prepared at all costs of inconvenience to our own comfort and cravings of excess to do whatever it takes to end this madness once and for all.

And what’s all the more tragic here is that the majority of us clearly understand that we are lusting for a non-renewable resource. So, we are consciously and wilfully admitting that Creation be damned, we will have our oil, and too bad for anything that gets caught in the wake of our tumultuous plundering. The vast majority of humankind claims to be bothered, even upset about the goings-on in the Gulf of Mexico, but have they acted on those claims? And have those who really ARE bothered and angry about this assault on Life on this planet likewise taken a stand?

I’ve seen no evidence to that effect. Unfortunately.

Am I surprised? No.

But is that further proof that I’m just being cynical? Just being negative?

Could be. It is what it is, right? But ask me again when my children are left to deal with what we’ve left them, if we don’t flat-out destroy us AND them in the process. And even that might be our ultimate act of Mercy… sparing our children a dark, ruinous, bleak future… and the rest of the living creatures on this planet as well.

I’m sure the Earth would eventually get over us. In time. And perhaps a subsequent race will tell a tale of how Adam and Eve were given a Paradise and rejected it, preferring the Path of Insanity and Stupidity. And perhaps when the story is told, the listeners will learn a lot more from that story than we did from our own story of Adam and Eve.

Time will tell.

Making tough decisions

In my previous entry, I touched on the subject of Choice, and how we as parents must allow our adult children to have their right of choice, but also to allow them to experience the consequences of their choices.

Since having written that, there have been some new developments that have led me to write this as a follow-up to that earlier entry.

As some of you may already be aware, I had the privilege of re-establishing contact with two of the daughters that I had been forced to allow to go to adoption some 19 years ago. Unfortunately, it has not gone well at all, and that is the motivation behind this particular entry as well.

People on both sides of the issue will argue whether a relationship that was interrupted by nearly two decades of connection and communication during the formative years of a child’s life can be rebuilt after the fact, or whether it must be redefined within the context of adulthood.

For me, I never ceased to feel and think within the bounds of fatherhood—but that was especially due to the fact that I was an adult and fully cognitive of my responsibilities, whereas the children involved had vague memories and an underlying sense of connection.

Yet when you factor in nearly two decades of time and space, and then bring those elements back together, you are left dealing with what the mind and heart remember, and what has developed in the interim. The children are no longer children: they are thinking, reasoning adults who have by then already started and been on a path that perhaps they might not have been, had the biological parent been there to coach them and teach them. The children by then have adopted the family values of the family that they have been adopted into, while at the same time having a certain amount of genetic predisposition towards certain decision-making skills and leanings of their biological parents. (And at this point, I am reasonably convinced that I would not have been able to make a difference for them had I raised them, because their issues, lying, and life choices are evidently hereditary and genetic and strongly from their mother’s lineage; as I have not yet met my third daughter, I do not know if she carries her biological mother’s tendencies, or mine. Still: that the two older girls developed to the point where they act and make the same life choices as their biological mother did—in the absence of their biological mother—is fascinating from a psychological point-of-view!)

I didn’t really become aware of this until after I met my biological daughters recently, after the nearly two-decade interim. My memories of them as innocent, beautiful children were just that: memories. The reality that I had to come to see, unfortunately, was far different.

While they are even more beautiful and precious than when I had last seen them those 19 years ago, they have exhibited characteristics that shattered my hopes and memories where they are concerned.

I think this past week, something in me finally said that enough was enough, and I realized that it was for the best that I step back from the situation and allow them to have their choices which they made it clear they want—especially since no amount of counsel and advice from me has been able to reach their hearts and I already know from personal experience where their paths will lead them as long as they remain on that path. And while my door is still open to them when and if they decide not to continue down the path of self-destruction, I can no longer continue walking alongside them down that path—or I risk everything I have worked so hard for in their absence.

I think, too, that the catalyst for deciding to step aside for them, was the incessant lies and back-biting. Having never been caught up in what some might term pathological lying, I guess I can’t wrap my head around the reasoning behind it. All I know is that it has led to constant edginess, worry, frustration and disappointment for me.

It is utterly heart-wrenching when you have a daughter, whom you haven’t seen since she was two years old, sitting across from you at a table, whom you want nothing less than to help her with anything—and she tells you what she knows you want to hear while in her heart she has other plans. And, of course, there have been many other things besides that which influenced my decision to withdraw and let her live her life—but I can’t decide whether I blame her for the lack of appreciation when something is offered for her betterment and she accepts it, but chooses to do her own thing and make decisions counter to her own betterment, essentially thumbing her nose at me; or, if I blame me for thinking that she would appreciate what it was that I was trying to do for her, to help her into a better life. She is the sum of her life at this point, and therefore is who she is and will remain so until she decides to make herself over into something else. I, on the other hand, could see the potential within her and was acting in accordance with that. If I were to continue in the situation, I would be continuing in the frustration that she and I have two very different ideas about who she is, and it is her right to have the final say and live how she wants to live.

I could go on at length covering the numerous other things going on with that daughter that are problematic—but the fact is that they are only problematic for me, not for her—otherwise, she would not be engaging in those things or situations. I want more for her and her life than she wants at the present time. So, I have to let her be the person she wants to be, and live the life she wants.

In the matter of my other daughter, it is very similar. Fatherly advice and counsel has fallen on deaf ears, assistance given has been shown to be unappreciated and held in disdain. And things that I had been told under the assumption that they were true have turned out to be quite the opposite, much to my dismay.

To say the least, there has been no sincere demonstration of apology from either of them: they are absolutely convinced that they have done and are doing nothing wrong. Which is perfectly fine: for them. Yet I know how it affects me, too. And personally, I do have a problem when I realize that I have been lied to, or at least deceived. Personally, I do have a problem seeing things that I provided them then be given away instead of being returned to the giver, or at least offered back. I do have a problem with finding that out and then having someone have the nerve to ask me if I can give them something else. I do have a problem with someone saying to my face that they are not going to allow themselves to be in another relationship until they finish their schooling and get their life together—and then do the exact opposite after I help them with things they “needed.” I do have a problem with someone blaming their boyfriend for the rent not being paid (they supposedly had given the rent money to their boyfriend, who then didn’t pay it to the landlord), and then they get evicted for nonpayment of rent and they run off with their boyfriend after signing away their rights to their children mere weeks before the court system was returning them. I do have a problem with a daughter who can’t stay away from other men and put her children first, even for a mere six months while her divorce is finalized. And really, the same could be said of my other daughter, who herself is married yet saw no problem with moving in and having a baby with another man. And yes, I do have a problem with being lied to, being used, being emotionally manipulated—not to mention being made to feel guilty when I don’t want to have anything to do with these types of people any further.

I do not hold these values in my life, and I do not tolerate them from other people. And to make an exception merely on the basis that these women are my biological daughters is simply not enough for me, because the tie that we had, the bond, is strictly biological at this point: I do not recognize either of these women beyond the physical semblances they bear to their mother’s side. Everything else is unfamiliar. The characteristics that they did inherit from me are evidently not strong enough at this point to override the rest. Maybe, in time, things will be different with them—I can’t see that far ahead, and I can’t stay a part of the daily drama, lying, and issues until that day comes. Or rather, I choose not to.

I’m not saying that my own life is perfect. I’m not saying that every choice I have made or currently make or will make will be right. But what I am saying is that I see no point in watching them ruin their lives or standing beside while they do. I am not God. If they want to live the lives they want to live, I must allow them to do so. And they need to allow me to let them, by my stepping aside—because really, there is no room for me in their life anyhow. Not at the present time.

Should they ever come to realize what it was that I wanted for them, and truly appreciate what I was trying to do for them, and they should ever come to want it even more than I want it for them, I will be here.

But not forever.

In the meantime, I can only wish them the best.

Where will the path you chose REALLY take you?

It is a fact of life that we all make choices because we CAN. It’s our RIGHT.

As parents, we try to teach our children not only how to make wise choices, but to help them to learn that there are consequences for the choices they make–and those consequences may be good or they may be bad. In time, the child reaches what is commonly known as the age of accountability, where the responsibility for their decisions ultimately falls upon their own decision-making skills and the parents can no longer shoulder the blame or burden.

Parents dread that day, and children often live in denial of it–wanting the freedom of Choice but not willing to accept the consequences of that freedom when a choice results in a bad situation. Nevertheless, the day invariably comes when our children must be allowed to experience the consequences of their decisions, for better or for worse, and we, as the parents, must allow them to.

Of course there is no question that we, as parents, want to swoop in and save the day, to protect our child when things go badly for them. This is natural. And in the beginning, it helps coax the child into maturity.

But allowed to continue, we can unintentionally deny our children their due right to experience Life under the guise of “protecting” them. They have the right to their own decisions, their own Choices. But they also have an obligation to own the results of those decisions–even if we disagree with the Choice made in this situation or that situation, and know that no good will come of it.

The situation becomes even more trying for us as parents when the advice and counsel we offer one of our children essentially falls on deaf ears: they nod and admit we are “right” while they are talking with us, but then go ahead and do their own thing when they’re away from us.

In some ways, this comes across as rebellion. Even betrayal. After all, why tell us that they know we’re “right” about our perception of a situation and our advice, and yet act completely counter to it?

And what do we, as parents, do when one of our children behaves in this way? In some cases, we maintain the relationship–and the child continues in their Choice, enjoying the freedom of being able to choose and yet believing that when things have reached their pinnacle and the time has come to pay the piper, that their doting parent will swoop in and rescue them or provide a way out for the bad situation the child has brought themselves in.

Now, I’m talking specifically about our ADULT children here–and not school-age children that haven’t reached the “legal” age of 17 or 18 years of age.

In the above-mentioned situation, where the parent decides to maintain the close familial tie, essentially enabling the adult child to persist in a course that the parent knows is self-destructive, disastrous, and, in some cases, morally and ethically wrong, the parent must assume responsibility for their part in the situation. They are failing to properly parent because they KNOW that what their adult child is doing is wrong and problematic, but they are using the excuse of parental “love” to deny the wrongness of their adult child’s course.

It says, in effect, that the adult child can continue in their course without really experiencing the consequences of their Choice–because the over-doting parent will help soften the harsh realities that result from unwise decisions, and be there for their wayward adult child when it comes time to “pay the piper.”

This is bad parenting because Life does not work this way.

Every day, each and every one of us makes a Choice, and things happen as a result of that Choice. Sometimes, those things that happen or beneficial–and sometimes they are downright tragic. But in order to become better in our decision-making skills, we MUST experience the full weight and burden of every Choice we make. It’s called being an adult–when we finally become responsible not only for ourselves, but the impact our Choice has on those closest to us, as well as Society at-large.

It becomes a testament to our Character when the Choices we make reflect our awareness that others close to us may be hurt, disappointed, or estranged through what we choose to do. Or, conversely: doesn’t reflect that awareness.

Unfortunately, some adult children reach a point where they could care less what anyone else thinks or feels about what the adult child chooses to do. They just want to do whatever it is that they want to do, and everyone else can just take a flying leap. The adult child’s self-indulgent attitude takes priority over everything else. Anyone that tries to reason with them is considered a “hater” or enemy or someone who “just doesn’t want them to be happy.”

In nearly every case, however, where the adult child insists that “everyone” else is just trying to keep the adult child from being “happy,” the reality is that the adult child is engaging in self-destructive behavior that will eventually result in disaster, and the adult child is in denial and defiance of the inevitable.

However, no amount of reasoning on the part of the frustrated parent will reach that adult child once they reach that level of rationalizing. In that situation, the parent’s best course of action is to step back and let things take their course–even though they already know where the particular path leads. The adult child MUST be allowed to experience disaster for themselves.

Even then, the adult child still may not admit that the Choices they are making are problematic. Instead, they will persist in the belief that everyone is against them, against their happiness. They will continue in the delusion that they are doing everything right, and honestly be confused why bad things continue to happen to them–when in reality those bad things are simply the consequences of the adult child’s Choices. They will be angry and resentful especially at those close to them when they need or want something, expecting it to be provided on the basis that they ARE family, after all–and do not get what they are asking for from family members or siblings.

Worse still, adult children caught up in the maelstrom of this course will habitually lie and resort to deception and half-truths in order to bolster the illusion they have built around themselves. Not intentionally, but because they have so thoroughly and effectively deluded themselves into believing that they are speaking absolute truth–even when the evidence contradicts it.

Too, these adult children will utilize emotional manipulation to secure sympathy and pity from others, to obtain support that subconsciously will reinforce their conviction that they are perfectly content, their life is essentially the life they want, and that everyone is out to get them or deprive them of happiness.

This is also evident in the relationships that the adult child enters into. While the adult child will be absolutely convinced that they are in “love” with someone they’ve managed to attract through sympathy, pity, or emotional manipulation, an objective assessment will confirm that what the adult child is calling “love” is actually DEPENDENCY. The adult child is actually dependent upon the other person in the relationship for support, affirmation, and the other person will invariably assure the adult child that they’re right about their skewed world-view in order to secure their own needs’ fulfillment.

This co-dependent situation persists until either the other person in the relationship realizes that the adult child needs more than can be given (and this need will increase exponentially as the relationship continues), or the adult child fails to secure what they crave from the relationship.

Relationships such as these tend to be short-lived, and each relationship that ends before the adult child is ready for it to end will lead the adult child into depression and frustration as they try to understand what it is that they are doing wrong–without realizing or acknowledging the reality behind said failed relationships. This depression and frustration will end, however, once the adult child as secured another symbiotic relationship–and so the cycle continues.

It is a sad fact of truth that adult children who live their lives like this rarely come around in their lives to realize just far off-course they are. In some cases when the adult child finally does come around, years and even decades can have passed them by and they suddenly realize that they’ve managed to alienate everyone that had ever been close to them–even parents and siblings. They find themselves alone, embittered, angry (at everyone else except themselves), and resentful–yet at the same time trying to recapture a time that has long since passed them by when things were simpler in their life, when they had people around them that truly loved and cared for them… people who had no choice but to let the adult child HAVE their Choice, to live the life that THEY wanted–even though it meant that there would be no room for them in that adult child’s life.

But in the end, it was all about Choice.

A storm is approaching

Having been back in contact with my daughters since October 24 of this year, after having been separated for some 19 years, it’s been a rollercoaster, to say the least. Putting the pieces together, trying to figure out how to rebuild a relationship and understanding the dynamics involved on an emotional, psychological and inter-relational level. They have, after all, grown up in a different family and that has played a significant role in the situation. While I have always and will always think of them as my daughters—and they feel that I am their father—it’s unrealistic to expect there to be that father-daughter bond that develops throughout a lifetime of togetherness. And yet they are my daughters whom I love beyond words—flesh of my flesh, bones of my bones. They are as much a part of me as the two sons I have raised since then.

But where does the physical/biological aspect of this part ways from the emotional aspect of it? In other words, they are my daughters on a biological level, but are they my daughters in the familial sense? Does my love for them stem from the biological connection that we have, or is it something deeper than that, transcending into the spiritual and emotional sense? This is the part that I find most perplexing. Is the love I have for them tied to the memories I have of them from 19 years ago—their smiling faces, their tears, their triumphs and their frustrations? Is my love and attachment to them tied to daughters who, in a social and intellectual sense, no longer exist because they grew up within the context of an adoptive family, and therefore are not the same daughters they would have become had I been allowed to raise, father, and nurture them to adulthood.

These are difficult, deep questions that nobody can be prepared for when faced with the blessing of reunification after an adoption has taken place. They are questions that I wrangle through every day, trying to be honest with myself and hard in my self-assessment during this process. And at this point, I really do not know. I feel that they are my daughters. I feel that I love them more than anything. I feel that my being allowed to reunite with them has been a blessing beyond words. And my feelings are real.

But what does that mean, then? Because, I am not really their father in a social or familial sense, having only fathered and nurtured them for a very short time of their life. Their perception of relationships, while formed by their relationship within an adoption family, was also formed by their experiences in life—shaping their world views that in most ways are very dissimilar from mine.  And yet they assure me through their words that they think of me as their father whom they are so happy to have been reunited with—and I am equally overjoyed at having been reunited with them.

And yet, my own life experience has convinced and taught me that one’s relationship with their physical father often shapes their later relationship and perception of God, who is the Father in the heavens. At the same time, many people go through their entire lives never really understanding or enjoying a father-child relationship until they get to know God and He truly becomes their Father. Perhaps that has some bearing in this situation—perhaps it is true that they have always felt this empty place in their life and heart because they were at least old enough to remember me as their loving, often doting father who—in spite of my lack of many important parenting skills which were detrimental to their health and welfare—felt that immense, immeasurable love that a father feels for his beloved children. It was enough of an impression that they are both happy and glad to have reunited with me after all of these years.

Which gives me hope. And yet I’ve lived and breathed hope since the day that they and I were no longer able to see one another. I’ve hoped against the odds, against the despair, against even hope itself at times.

Now, as we try to figure this out and try to build a new relationship, all the while dealing with the issues we have individually faced in our lives, and the trials through which we are enduring at the present time, a new and troubling situation arises… a darkness that is storming on the horizon, threatening and angry and vengeful.

The biological mother has resurfaced just a few days ago, and having conversed with her at length via telephone and online chat, seems intent to create a savage conflict in order to insert herself into their lives once more—after having outright abandoned them long before I finally had to release them. All of my hopes that she had fared well, too, these past 19 years, and that her reunification with the girls would be nothing short of wonderful and awe-inspiring has swiftly changed to one of disconcerting unrest as she engages in threats against me, and the weapon of choice is to claim and convince the girls that I had somehow molested them. Her thinking seems to be that if she can somehow manage to convince someone, and get me put into prison, and remove me from the picture utterly and absolutely, that she will be somehow vindicated for her own misdeeds in regards to her daughters, and then she can have them go away with her. And what is positively mind-boggling is that she is carrying on in all of this hand-wringing and slander while she types to me from her molestor’s residence—whom she has been living with for some time and intends on remaining with. Her own guilt at having had her own testimony being the damning evidence that sent her own father to prison far exceeds the treachery that he bestowed on her from years and years of not only his molesting her, but also allowing neighbors and friends to molest her in exchange for money—all of which is verifiable in her court records.

And now, she is screaming and claiming that I molested the girls, and is absolutely convinced that I should be in prison—even when the evidence has always indicated otherwise. Whether her words are empty threats from afar or not, of course I am concerned about her state of mind, her motivation—which seems to be filled with hate, bitterness, and resentment towards me— as well as the impact this would have on the girls, who have already been through more than their biological mother will ever understand.

There is no question that I have never done such a thing, and I have God Almighty as my witness. I may not have been the best parent at the ripe young age of 17 until 21 (but what young parent IS the best parent at that age, barely out of childhood themselves?). But for anyone who has ever read my blogs here, or my writings in years past, or knows what I have been through—they would know that such an atrocious deed is far beyond my capabilities as a human being. And it kills me that someone, even an angry, vengeful ex-wife who willingly and willfully walked away from me and the girls over 19 years ago for a “better life” with a guy living on the streets without even a second thought or a shed tear would be so capable of spewing such hateful accusations at me in order to somehow break down the bond that I have with my daughters. In effect, they are the collateral in her vendetta against me, a vendetta that shouldn’t be there today because she’s the one that abandoned us, she’s the one that disappeared and never looked back. And yet she has this poisonous knife aimed at the my throat, with the full intention that if the girls don’t accept her unreservedly as their mother, she will cut off my head—because if she can’t have them, then she will never allow me to have them either.

As if life doesn’t have enough of its own drama, battles, and challenges…  this day, my daughters and I are having to deal with this far more evil, demonic situation that has arisen suddenly.

But like I told my daughters yesterday—I am thankful to God on High for allowing them to find me first, and having been able to go through the court records—so that they wouldn’t have to take my word for what happened—and answer their questions, and giving them time to see that I’ve worked hard on my life, to become a better person, a better parent, someone whom they can come to for reassurance, encouragement, and counsel. I’m thankful because it is painfully clear to me now that if Tonda had found them first, there was a very real possibility that she could have—in the absence of the court records and on the basis of what she thinks happened—made it so that they would never have ever wanted to know the man who had once been their father, having been poisoned by the hate, bitterness, and resentment that Tonda has carried all these years towards me to mask over her own self-hate and self-loathing at having been the one whose testimony sent her father to prison for molesting her—when she was the victim, not the perpetrator. But then, that’s how insidious evil works: it convinces the victim that it’s their fault. And it scars them forever after.

But God worked it out so that they did find me first, and I wasted no time in seeing to it that they personally went through the entire court record—answering their questions as they did so—and for the first time in their lives, they discovered that I had never left them, never abandoned them, never stopped fighting for them… and when they were finally taken from me with all sense of finality imposed on me, I did everything in my ability to make sure that they could find me again when the time came, and prayed to God to make it happen.

And God did just that: He made it happen. And He did it early enough to set the foundation in our renewed relationship because He foresaw the time when Tonda would reappear and try to tear it all apart…  and He knew that by giving us that important time to bond (albeit not very long, for the battle was coming fast!), we would be able to withstand the coming storm…

Thank you, Father!

While millions of other families around the world gather together to celebrate one day of appreciation and gratitude for what they have been through, for each other, and for many other things, I sit here at my desk trying to figure a multitude of things out—much of it by the seat of my pants, as it were.

And while I’m tempted to go into details, I am simply going to say that I appreciate the very few people in my life whom I can speak openly and frankly to and know that for them, the feelings that are behind those words are what really matters.

I appreciate those very few people in my life to whom I can say that something they’re doing makes me feel a certain way—and they know that I’m not saying that they are doing that—but that by their actions or words, I am being made to feel that they are.

I appreciate those very few people in my life who, realizing that I am hurting and confused or frustrated, then say to me that they certainly never meant to convey that impression—but that they understand how what they said or did could have been taken that way. I appreciate those very few people in my life who are willing to do their part to correct the matter.

It’s difficult to maintain relationships, and even harder to build them. But it becomes even more difficult when you cannot speak openly with someone—even when they’ve assured you that you can say anything to them, or talk to them about anything. It becomes more difficult when, after opening your heart’s feelings about a problem, they respond by saying that they’re sorry that they’ve bothered you, and will just disappear, and tell you to pretend that you never knew them. It hurts when they don’t take the time or make the effort to understand how what they said or did could have been taken that way, even if they never meant it to.

But I’m grateful for those very few people in my life who do.

I don’t have very many friends at this stage in my life. In fact, I count three in all. But I’m grateful and thankful for each one of them. I’m grateful because they are the sort who are ready and willing to hear me out and immediately respond by saying, “Well, let’s see what we can do to resolve that together…” —not by abandoning me altogether because I spoke my heart or mind, and to tell me that the solution is for them to get out of my life altogether.

Friendships…  relationships… do not happen. They are built. They require blood, sweat, and yes, even tears. They require a determination like no other endeavor in our life requires—if they are to have any success whatsoever. Feelings will be hurt. Disappointments will occur.

It’s when we can say to one another, “I didn’t realize that I was doing that…  that what I was saying or doing was causing you to think or feel that…  and I’m sorry. Let’s see what we can do about repairing that right now…” that we stand a chance to make it, against even the longest odds.

And today, I am expressing my deepest appreciation and respect, gratitude and thankfulness for those few in my life who are of such making.