Filling Your Emptiness -- Your New Life
Afterwords
Some Cannot Break Their Cycle!
My father, as I have described, was a violent, abusive alcoholic. He provided no support for any of my family for any time I have ever been aware. He did not, or could not, break out of his destructive life cycle.
Yet from an honest review, there are occasions that I am aware of and have experienced that make me believe there are some personal forces that some people cannot master or learn to control or even avoid. This, I do not believe, excuses nor condones any resulting improper behavior: drunkenness, abuse, lack of support, etc.
My family’s dysfunction has caused me a life of trauma. It has severely hindered my personal growth, behavior, maturity, and opportunity. I study my behavior traits not for the purpose of blame, but to learn acknowledgment, accommodation, and repair. With such handicap and lacking caring mentoring, my life has been a true example of self-help and survival of the fittest.
My father’s father was an alcoholic.
His mother had unsuccessful marriages and was abusive and demonstrated hatred constantly. She was partial, showed favoritism, and ridiculed any one or thing of which she was not pleased. She was a racist.
My father’s first marriage ended in divorce with a severely brain-damaged, bedridden son, Rodney. His wife could not accept these things and left. My grandmother stepped in to supervise for my half brother because she knew my father, being the drunk he was, could not provide his needed care, though I could honestly recognize that my father truly loved and grieved for Rodney.
My mother attempted to care for Rodney but could not because of the lack of support and drunkenness of my father. I can remember as a small boy having walked home from school and entering my house to a tremendous ruckus. As I turned into a room, there were my grandmother and father having backed my mother into a corner.
They were beating her for not properly caring for Rodney and being a bad mother, a traumatic scene that haunts me to this day.
My grandmother came and took Rodney away from my home and gave him to my uncle James. This uncle, one of three sons, had served in the military with an outstanding record. My grandmother paid for a home for them in a very distant location, causing much family resentment. My uncle and aunt lovingly cared for Rodney until his death.
There were numerous occasions when my father’s public drunkenness resulted in legal incarcerations. These included city jail, county jail, and eventually his legal incarceration in state care hospitals.
After having spent six months in the state hospital in Wichita Falls, we visited to bring him home upon his release. He had received glowing reports of his good recovery and helpfulness with the other recovering patients. He even bragged about our upcoming new life and his upcoming family support and care. He was a very professional and respected painter and carpenter and always had work available.
He, again, truly seemed to have conquered his cycle.
Unfortunately, on the long drive back to our home in West Texas and upon arrival, he already had slurred speech, clammy skin, and bloodshot eyes and an abusive attitude. At the end of one week’s work, he was abusively drunk. He was haunted and recaptured by his cycle. He could not face life and responsibility.
I observed on many of these occasions—and better acknowledged later as an adult—that while incarcerated, my father, once fully sober, was a kindhearted person with a heart for helping others.
In at least two of the state hospitals, he even became a trusted helper. It seemed he could escape his cycle during these incarcerations. Down deep he had a kindness and concern that was obvious.
On some occasions, before being again overwhelmed by his destructive cycle, he would even attempt to enact that good nature. On one rare sober Thanksgiving holiday, he secretly invited both his mother and his brother and sister-in-law for the feast in an attempt to reconcile their family. As explained in “Don’t Go to Grandma’s House,” there was a tremendous deserved hatred from my uncle and aunt toward my grandmother.
My grandmother was in the kitchen, which had a direct view to the front door, supervising the meal preparation. When my uncle and aunt arrived, they all locked eyes. My uncle rushed the kitchen and locked his hands around my grandmother’s throat as they went to the floor, kicking and screaming. They were broken apart by my father, and they all departed, swearing threatening messages at each other, as well as at my father—an attempted but very failed reconciliation.
A number of years later, while living in Colorado and after my salvation, I received a phone call from a hometown family friend and pastor. He informed me that my father and local uncle had both been drunk and caused a traffic accident that hospitalized a couple.
Because the accident had occurred on the state highway, my father and uncle were arrested and incarcerated in the county jail. They had been tried and found guilty of damages, and because of his long-term past and record, he would be sentenced to the state penitentiary, not state hospital.
With the help of the local pastor and agreement of my loving wife, I provided a letter to the court offering to take custody for the supervision of my father. The judge agreed, with the stipulation that my father never return to Texas (known as hillbilly justice).
My dad was provided his own private bedroom in my home. I told him that in his room was his privacy and that he could drink himself to death if he desired, but that on Sundays, we would go to church. He promised not to smoke, drink, or curse in front of my infant son.
For his time with us, as in his previous incarcerations, he was a model “inmate.” He helped around our house, played with my son, and eventually painted the trim on our church, never having a single alcoholic drink. Again, with no responsibility or pressure, he had escaped his cycle.
During his stay, he received phone calls from family and “friends.” Eventually, with the urging and insistence of his “friends,” the local judge approved a short return visit.
During his return visit, the “friends” and local authorities convinced him to stay. He did and was again drunk within one week. His old environment, its influence, and his cycle had recaptured him.
Later, my mother finally and legally divorced him with a restraining order to vacate her property. He had to be fully responsible for himself for the first time in decades. He died in a prolonged drunkenness within the year.
Did he die because he couldn’t break his cycle?
Did he die because he didn’t have enough help?
Two Phone Calls
Phone call #1
I received a phone call that my aunt Rosie was in the hospital with cancer and would not live long. I responded that I would come immediately.
I quickly made arrangements for my local necessities and made plans to travel. I would leave, travel to Texas, pick up Curtis—my cousin who was just in on leave from the Air Force, Rosie’s only adopted son—and drive immediately to the Lubbock Hospital to share Jesus Christ with my aunt and return home early the next morning.
Curtis was waiting when I arrived, and we immediately departed for the hospital. As I drove, I explained to Curtis what was about to take place—that upon arrival, once with my aunt, his mother, I would share Jesus Christ with my aunt to ascertain her acknowledgment.
As we drove on, I explained to Curtis exactly what that meant. I explained who Jesus is and his relevance to every human’s eternity. I explained to Curtis that my mission was not to chitchat and rekindle old relationships. Assurance of my aunt’s eternity was priority.
When we arrived at the hospital, I was still concluding these plans. We had not had time to share a long greeting or have our own chitchat.
Upon entering my aunt Rosie’s room, she greeted us with her bright smile and cheery disposition. After her lavish gratitude for my trip, she explained that her surgery had been successful and the doctor had removed all her cancer (far from the actual truth).
I began sharing with Rosie my love and concern. We quickly moved past life conversation to eternal significance. To my great happiness, Rosie assured me of her salvation in Jesus Christ and explained in vivid detail her when, where, and how! How glorious of a testimony!
We had a celebratory prayer of praise, and Curtis and I soon left so my aunt could rest.
As I drove Curtis back to my uncle’s home, I shared with Curtis my love for him and my aunt and the mission and purpose that Jesus had served.
As we pulled into his driveway very late that night and as Curtis opened the door to leave, I asked him if he had any questions about Jesus and about his relationship. He stepped out of the car, thanked me for coming, turned, and left.
As planned, I left very early the next morning to return home. My aunt died a number of days later.
Phone call #2
Many years later, after the sale of my business, I, for a period of time, was working the midnight shift at a local Safeway. These hours made it possible for me to earn some income while I struggled to manage some legal problems and collections for my previous business sale that had been defaulted by the purchaser.
Being physically exhausted after each long overnight work shift, I would generally say “good morning/good night” to anyone around and immediately fall asleep in bed until late next evening prior to returning back to work.
This particular morning was going to be eternally different though.
Just before falling deep to sleep, Claudia awakened me with a phone call. I assumed it was a business call. No, she said it was an important call from my cousin Curtis in the Dallas, Texas, county jail! I quickly sat up, took the phone, and tried to wake enough to organize my thought and speech.
Curtis immediately and joyously greeted me with the news that he was in the Dallas County Jail but had heard a visiting preacher tell the story and invitation of Jesus Christ and had accepted him as Savior and Lord because he remembered the night we had visited his mom in the hospital before her death.
******
Imagine
(John Lennon)
Imagine all the people
Livin’ for today
…
Imagine there’s no countries
It isn’t hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion, too
Imagine all the people
Livin’ life in peace
…
Imagine no possessions
I wonder if you can
No need for greed or hunger
A brotherhood of man
Imagine all the people
Sharing all the world
…
You may say I’m a dreamer
But I’m not the only one
I hope someday you’ll join us
And the world will be as one.
So as you go about your new life, sharing the loving salvation offered by Jesus Christ, do not rush to conclusion or pressure. God’s love works in truly miraculous ways, methods, and timetables.
In many situations you will never know the eternal end result of your Christ-sharing love. Yet at times, God may share the results immediately or many years later.
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