...the Son will reveal Him

"All things are delivered to me of my father: and no man knoweth the son, but the father; neither knoweth any man the father, save the son, and he to whomsoever the son will reveal him." -Matthew 11:27

Adult life is not like I imagined it would be.  Honestly, I can’t say that I had much imagination for adult life when I was a child, not realistically.  I was a pirate ship captain or a movie star, nothing close to the stressful mediocrity I experience now.  Accomplishing great things and resting in my success has given way to day after day of bills, feeling stuck in undesirable jobs and social engagements, and countless hours wondering what to do with my life.  Of course a child cannot prophetically imagine the details of his future life as an adult, but one failed dream haunts me most, the dream of peace.  Going through hell as a child, I always longed for the day when I would be at peace in my world.  The shattering of this illusion has been the worst.  I can handle not being a hero in some grand play.  I guess, even,  then, I knew I wouldn’t really live out my grandest fantasies.  Still, all that day-dreaming had a common thread.  I would grow up and my childhood would be over.  It didn’t turn out that way.

“All things are delivered to me of my father..” rings true today.  My daily life is plagued by insecurities and painful emotions, triggered by everything routine.  This afternoon, the rug beneath my feet is one I’ve never touched.  I don’t know when it was made, and I’ve lived 41 years without ever seeing it.  Yet, the sight of it, the design, the level of soiling, and a couple of specks of food lying precariously in plain view all conspire to take me back to some vague re-experiencing of sitting or standing, frozen in fear while my father yelled at me and beat me.  I have trouble recalling the things that made him angry and the things he said.  All of that was so long ago, but in this way, my father never left me.  Escape never entered my mind.  I have escaped, but he hasn’t left. For many years, I was helpless, waiting for him to stop.  I’m still feeling that way.

“All things are delivered to me of my father..”  The man that I am, in many respects, is a product of my childhood.  My attitudes, fears, expectations, interpretations, and delusions all had their beginning in the forge of that time when I was his son and he was my father.  Often, more so when I’m excited and animated, those who knew us both will halt me to point out that I remind them of my father.  People will argue about nature and nurture and which should be blamed or credited for current situations of all kinds, but there is no doubt for me that my father shaped the man I am today.  However I am, that experience was pivotal in making me this way. Odd as it may sound, Dad would be very proud of me if he could see the man I've become.

“All things are delivered to me of my father..”   On every level of discussion, things come from the place they came from and resemble those places.  All children are different, as any parent with more than one child will quickly tell you, but no child is unaffected by their “family of origin.”  The journey of life leaves it’s mark upon the traveler.  No matter where we go, there we are.  No matter where we go, where we’ve been has left an indelible mark. We experience life in an endless string of present moments, and we carry those experiences with us.  We are shaped by our lives. In Childhood, when emotions are raw and understanding undeveloped, when the words and thoughts of our caregivers are everything we have to work with, the marks left upon our souls stay with us throughout our lives.  

"All things are delivered to me of my father: and no man knoweth the son, but the father; neither knoweth any man the father, save the son, and he to whomsoever the son will reveal him."

I got what I got growing up, and it's my story to tell.

© 2013 Ernest Samuel Christie III