Human beings are a funny lot. Perhaps the most consistent thing about us is our inconsistency. We can be absolutely charming at a dinner party for hours, and then, with the mention of some politician or some incident somewhere, turn into a rude, craven boor of the worst sort. It is almost as if someone threw a switch.

I rode that emotional roller coaster yesterday evening and on into this morning -Christmas Morning – when I was given an unexpected gift from my oldest son – a gift more precious than any of the suggested expensive cars or gaudy trinkets we have had repeatedly thrust at us over the last month with the garish TV ads and loud voices which inferred that if we really love someone, we will buy them a new Lexus.

I have always had a fondness for Christmas, even through the commercialization of it by our Capitalist overlords, whose only care about it is that their profit margins get a nice year end boost. (In  case you haven’t figured it out by now, I find Capitalism an absolutely despicable economic system.) The decorations, the Christmas hymns, the services at church – every year I would find in them a certain soothing to my soul, a time to put aside the troubles of the past year for a day and concentrate on the joy of Christ’s birth and the happiness of blessing others with gifts.

But this year, it was somehow different. Not too long after I wrote this blog piece, which you will see sounds upbeat at the end, I began an emotional tailspin into a deep depressive state. I have suffered through these from time to time throughout the year, but the time of season seemed to acerbate the depression.

It was not helped at all by receiving this Email a couple of days ago from my youngest daughter:

Hello father. Thank you sincerely for the gifts. They were the most thoughtful thing you’ve done or given me in a very long time. I need you to know that nothing is different- we are still fundamentally the same people no matter who I am married to or dating. I am still bisexual and identify strongly as an agnostic witch, and as such, would still be rejected and disrespected by you under the right circumstances. I would appreciate that you don’t ask other people about me in the future, but I have already asked that of you, so apparently respecting this wish of mine means nothing to you. Until you have respect for people who are different than yourself and can be civil and decent to gay people, trans people, people of color whom I have seen you refer to as ‘niggers’ * under the right circumstances, as well as people whose religious beliefs differ from yours, I will continue to see you as an intolerant ignoramus and want no further communication with you. The simple fact that have and will pick fights with other Catholic believers over tiny irrelevant semantics within your beliefs is exemplary of the very intolerant attitude that you hold dear. Its shameful. I think I act like more of a Christian than you do!

I live with my friend now, a trans man, who may very well have saved my life. Without him opening up his home to me, my wife may have killed me because she was choking me out and dragging me around the house by my limbs for the last 6 months before the separation. I put up with a lot of very bad, selfish, self-serving behavior from her for a very long time because the example set forth to me by you and mother’s awful relationship. It is from you and my relationship with you growing up that it was instilled in me an at unconscious level that love is self-sacrifice, love means the other party does not have to, and likely will not, recognize, appreciate, and certainly my will never reciprocate all you to do please them, earn their love and acceptance. That is what you taught me, and that is exactly what I married into. I can’t continue to blame you for this, and I forgive you for being so flawed.

The boundaries set forth in my last letter to you still stand. I am under no disillusion that you are now capable of being either tolerant or respectful of other human beings, and as such, wish no further communication with you. I will ask again that you don’t ask other people about me and my life. 

Take care of yourself.
Sincerely, 
Janelle

To which I replied:

Dear Janky Skunk !

HA!  Good name.

I am sorry that I am unable not to be concerned about you, as you are still my little girl, no matter how we are separated by beliefs or practices.

Yes, I am an intolerant ignoramus, although I don’t remember using the word “nigger” for a long, long time. Life is about growing, and I am still trying to become a better person.

I thank you for forgiving me and understanding that I am a deeply flawed human being.

I will not write to you again, in respect of your wishes, unless you first write to me.

Your flawed father.

But the damage was done – I began to have thoughts of the many Christmases in my life, of times with my children when they were young, and of how we are far apart at this season, not just geographically, but spiritually and emotionally. As I mentioned in yesterday’s blog, my children have no interest in the Christian faith at all – and I completely blame myself for that.  While I have a good relationship with the oldest three, the youngest three don’t even wish to talk with me. Son Number Five told me to “f-off and drop dead” after I would not accept as normal Janelle’s bizarre marriage to a man who was mutilating himself into a woman.

Perhaps it was my old nemesis, the evil spirit who led me into drugs, promiscuity, and a life of hedonistic selfishness as a youth, who kept putting thoughts in my head. “You were a rotten father, a no-good, selfish, bastard of a human being.” I spent hours being inundated with these thoughts, and while they are true to a degree, the evil one always takes our small mistakes and tries to discourage us by making mountains out of them. By the time I arrived at church to begin preparing for the evening Compline and Christmas service, I was deeply depressed. It was such a pervasive and visible depression that Fr. Alex came to me after the service and asked me what was wrong.

“I would give all the money I am worth now if I could just have my little children again for 24 hours so I could hug them and love them.”  I looked Fr. Alex square in the eyes. “You have grown children.  Surely you understand this?”

Father said something about how time flies and put his hand on my arm to console me, but there was no consoling. The drive home was dark and melancholy. All I could think of was how I have failed as a father and over the years as a human being. That is perhaps the hardest part of being a human being – life gives no second chances.  There is no going back to unhurt the people I have hurt by my selfish actions, not only my children, but a number of other people who appear in the random thoughts of my mind. Last night the thoughts were not random. They attacked me from every side.

The depression was still with me when I settled into the oversize sofa in our living room and opened my prayer books for the Morning Office. I have tried to pray the Morning and Evening Office for the last year, hoping that perhaps adding a prayer discipline will help cure my soul of the sins and ills from which it suffers and make me a little bit better a person. I seem to be making little if any progress, and there are days I am seriously tempted to chuck the whole effort as useless, but I have kept pressing on, confessing to God my shortcomings and sins, and especially praying for people whom I hurt so long ago. This includes my children.

Halfway through the Office, I was annoyed to hear the sound of my cell phone insisting that I pick it up and answer.

“Who could possibly be calling me this morning?” I felt a tad annoyed, wondering if it was yet another of those annoying and ubiquitous robo-calls that I can’t escape.

It was my oldest son, Jason, calling to wish me a Merry Christmas and apologizing for not returning my phone call of two weeks earlier.

“I just finished finals at school and things have been real crazy. I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you.”

We talked for a while about his work and his schooling. Somehow the discussion segued into my state of sorrow. My correspondence with Janelle came up and I spoke freely with him about the deep sorrow and regret I feel about not being a very good father. Tears of sorrow and regret were freely coursing down my cheeks as I lamented the the perception I had of myself as less than an ideal father.

“I don’t know what you are talking about, Dad. Yeah, you and Mom weren’t perfect, but I didn’t feel like I had a bad family or that we were anything unusual.”

He went on to describe in detail things we did together as father and son, some of which I had forgotten, and how he thought that our Christmases together were a great time. We reminisced together about the way his grandmother would have fantastic Christmas dinners and how everyone had a good time. We talked for another half an hour, with him repeatedly assuring me that I wasn’t as bad a father as I was feeling myself to be.

At the end of our conversation, Jason said, “I love you, Dad.” He said it slowly, deeply, and with meaning. When I disconnected the call, a great weight had lifted from my heart, not necessarily replaced by joy, but rather by the reality that I had tried. As we had discussed, my oldest three all know this, and have forgiven me for my shortcomings and failures.  To be reminded of this lifted a great burden from me this morning.

I think it to be the best Christmas gift I ever have received – and one that I desperately needed.

 

• I am embarrassed to admit that I used such language ever, but I feel the need to clarify something regarding my experiences with the gay and transgender community. Just because I refuse to accept such behavior as normal does not mean that I “hate” such people. Respect works both ways – my daughter and many of those who are militantly part of the LGBTQ community, have no respect for the moral and religious beliefs of Christians, and many of them work hard to sic the government on us when we will not line up and salute their sexual preferences. I do not and will not ever endorse any violence or prejudicial acts against those who have this orientation, but on the other hand, I will not defend such sexual behavior as normal and I will not refrain from stating that true happiness is found not in the unhindered expression of promiscuous sex, but rather in a relationship with God. I know this from my own very personal and intimate experience with the gay community and with promiscuity. You can read about it here