My father is a difficult man to love.
I will not bore you with details. Suffice it to say that he is not a violent man but in other ways he gave all his children considerable reason to struggle with forgiving him over the years.
I believe that the fact that we all became Christians gave us reason to continue struggling until we, in fact, were able to forgive him and move on. Certainly in my case the Holy Spirit's intervention was key in allowing me to realize just how much of my "forgiveness" up to that time had been lip service and how easy it could be to let go of past hurts with His help if I would let it happen.
However, as is often the case when illness strikes, one's worst character flaws come forth. In my father's recent extended illness this has been the case. Once again we found ourselves struggling, not with the past, but with the present examples of behavior that is completely and unrepentantly unlovable, quite often directed at our mother.
A week ago, after a call from my sister telling me of behavior so outrageous that we could hardly believe it (as we kept saying to each other), I found myself so angry that I could hardly focus enough to speak to people in the video rental store or grocery store. I always say that I don't give up on anyone until they die ... and then I'll still pray for their soul. However, at that moment I was ready to turn my back on him forever. Period.
After a short time of indulging in composing remarks to cut him to the quick (which I knew full well that he would ignore or hang up on), I began to remember that I really should be able to take a larger view ... a Christian view.
I thought of Mother Teresa and how she could see Jesus in any soul. I thought of my father and tried to see where Jesus was in him. It was an extremely brief attempt as I quickly realized that I am no Mother Teresa and it was impossible for me to make that stretch. Sad but true.
I then thought of Jesus and how he sees our true selves, not the often unlovable exterior we show the world. I thought of Anne Rice's book and her examples of Jesus' ability to do that very thing. Heaven only knew that I wasn't going to be able to do this on my own. So there, in the prepared foods section of the Central Market, I told Jesus, "Help me see my father through your eyes. It's the only way I can get through this."
I'd like to say that I had an epiphany ... angels sang ... golden light illuminated everything ... but no. I left it with Jesus and then went back to struggling with myself to stop indulging my own temper in this matter. That struggle lasted, off and on, until I went to bed.
However, in the morning I woke up with a phrase in my mind, "There's no fool like an old fool."
You wouldn't think that would be a calming thought but somehow it removed the personal element and put my father into a category that was so common there was a folk saying about him. I remembered my friend, L, nodding wisely when listening to each tale of my father's outrageous behavior. Her grandfather was much the same and it drove his family to distraction. It really was so helpful. I wasn't angry any more.
And then, a bit later in the morning, I was thinking over the parable of the Prodigal Son. In my mind's eye my father was the one in the pig sty, but when people came to help him out of it, he would turn his head and plunge straight back in ... stubbornly ignoring everyone's best efforts to show him a better world, a better life, if only he would take a little advice.
I was able to feel pity and sorrow for him. This may be a very Catholic point of view, I don't know. He has had great opportunities given to him in his illness. And he has wasted them. Completely. He could have been restored to much greater health than he has enjoyed for about a year. He could have opened his eyes to see what a faithful and loving wife he has been given. This could have been a chance to broaden his world far beyond the ever-shrinking boundaries he has been settling for in the past years. But he has chosen to ignore it all.
This all passed through my mind in the space of a few minutes. Then I realized that my prayer had indeed been answered. I had been shown how Jesus sees my father ... with love, and pity, and sorrow ... for all the times he has been given a chance and turned away.
What a boon, a blessing, a gift ... and how it made me love and thank Jesus yet again for all that he has given to me. And for not giving up on me when I indulge in tantrums like I had the day before.
So I do not give up on my father. Not now. Not ever. He may not enjoy the fact that I do not give up on him as he will be hearing a bit more of the truth than he cares to whenever he gives me an opening. That's the price he pays for having people who love him anyway.
My father is a difficult man to love ... but I will never give up.
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