When God first began His good work in me, not everyone was pleased. My parents, in particular, were offended. After several weeks spent reading the Bible, I called my parents. “Mom! I read the entire New Testament!” I told her. She didn’t believe me, thinking I was attention seeking. My parents seemed so religious growing up, and I was so eager for their approval, that I assumed this would become a positive turning point in our relationship. At first it was not. It would take a few years for this to change.
When I began writing Bible study letters to my children I called my parents again to share my idea. My mom responded with a shocked, “You? You think God can use you??” Clearly she believed otherwise.
Despite the poor results of our relationship I had tried many solutions to improve it, everything from group therapy to talking it out in the visiting room. I had given up long ago on the dream of restoration. But God is the God of restoration!
My relationship with my brother Randy was also strained, although at first I was unaware. He had never visited, and if we had any phone calls they were not memorable, but I attributed this to his busy life raising 2 kids. Now my Mom informed me, “Randy is mad at you. He has been for years.”
“What? Why?” I asked. I really had no idea. I might have guessed if I’d thought about it.
“He thinks you let him down as a big sister,” she replied. “Committing a crime really disappointed him. He says he looked up to you.”
I was absolutely shocked. I could not imagine him looking up to me. I’d never seen our relationship in this way. Was it true?
I spent several days considering it. I decided to write him an apology letter, and did so. After a week I called him. Our now tenuous relationship was restored. Temporarily.
Randy and his wife submitted visiting applications and once approved Randy came to visit. I was delighted! Randy is extremely funny and a joy to be around. He is talented and brilliant. Our visit went well.
Everything fell off the rails a few weeks later. Randy wrote me back, sharing the truth of his feelings. He had not really opened up during our visit and he used a letter to do so. Things went wrong when I decided to reciprocate. I had been hurt by my family in the past, Randy included. When I was in jail for three months, Chad and my children suffered greatly. My family provided little relief or support to them. When Tim needed a home, my family did nothing.
What I did not understand at the time was how to validate others and keep silent otherwise. Not every true thing needs to be said. I lacked diplomacy and relationship skills. It seems unfair, and perhaps it is, but as a convicted criminal I was expected, almost immediately, to exhibit a high level of self-reflection and insight as I accepted responsibility for my wrongs. I was also expected to ignore wrongs done to me. All of these things are impossible for an individual with life skills so poor they commit a crime to solve a problem. Although I desired to do it. I didn’t know how to do it well.
I replied to Randy’s letter in kind, thanking him for writing and sharing my own feelings of hurt and betrayal. I was blind to how this would be received. He stopped talking to me again.
One day early in my experience of reading the Bible, I read the ten commandments. Jesus had already begun creating in me effectual obedience to His Word, so when I read about obeying and respecting your parents I was filled with hope and certainty that God would help me obey it! How would obeying this command look in practical terms? I didn’t know. But even without this knowledge, I had faith it would happen. Once again I joyfully called my parents to tell them this good news!
“Guess what, Mom!” I started. “I’ve committed to obeying the commandment to honor and respect your parents!”
She responded, “That’s impossible for you.” End of discussion.
I began praying and asking Jesus to explain how to obey this command. Must it involve actual affection? How could I drum that up? Could I respectfully avoid them? Is that respect? How does one honor another person? I sought answers from God in His Word.
A few months went by and two letters came in the mail, one from my mom and one from my dad. In the past they used letters only when they were angry with me. Despite my healing from rage and bitterness I still harbored concern that I might be triggered into a ‘relapse.’ These letters loomed like huge warning signs to me. I had started to believe that actual affection might be required as part of my obedience and to even remain neutral was a fragile thing for me. I found Kayla, an inmate I trusted, in the dayroom. “Kayla, can you read these and tell me if it’s OK for me to read them?”
Understanding dawned as she read the return address. She opened each and read through, her face darkening. Setting them aside she said, “I wouldn’t read those. No way.” I didn’t ask for clarification, just nodded sadly and returned to my room. Standing on a chair in front of my closet, I reached up to the top shelf and then pushed the letters to the back wall. I would not be able to retrieve them without intentional effort. I called my parents that evening. “I got your letters. I didn’t read them,” I said. My mom gasped in outrage so I rushed on, “Our relationship is still fragile and I’m determined to obey God and honor you. I don’t want anything to jeopardize it. In six months if you still think I should read these letters, I will. If in six months you think it’s not necessary, then it’s not worth doing so today,” I pleaded.
“If you really want to honor us,” my Mom retorted, “then you’ll listen to what we want you to do!”
Slowly I answered, “No. This command is not yours, it is God’s command. I must do it exactly as He desires, and I know He will tell me what that looks like and enable me to do it.” Click, the line went dead. These and many similar conversations took place until my Mom refused to acknowledge me at all. I sent her birthday cards and nice emails, which occasionally inspired a spiteful response from her. Soon our weekly visits, which they had maintained throughout my incarceration, became sporadic, and then stopped altogether except for surprise visits when they were mad at me.
After a year of this, I removed my parents from my visiting list, telling them, “I want you to visit. I love you. I am removing you from my visiting list, however, because these visits are not healthy for us. To be clear, I want a loving relationship with you, and loving visits. That is not what’s happening, though, and I can’t force you to have such visits. I can prevent negative experiences and so I will.”
The summer of 2017 passed and then my parents went to Florida for the winter as usual. Arriving home in April 2018 a year after our visits stopped completely, they emailed me, saying, “We would like to start visiting again.”
“That’s great news!” I answered. “Praise God! I would love to have good visits with you.” My parents reapplied and soon visited. Jesus softened their hearts at this time towards me. The change in our relationship was immediate. We had joyful visits from the start, and my heart sang.
In fact, things went so well that Mom dragged Randy to a visit with them, determined to restore our relationship as well. I was happy to see him again, and eager to do better this time. We worked together as a family to restore our relationships. It’s hard work, but worth it! Today I have a loving relationship with my brother again.
Initially I had no place to go after my release, preparing to go out homeless. My parents had always told me, “You’ll never come to our house. Don’t even think about it!” Now however, a change of heart took place for them. Soon my parents were insisting I stay with them when I get out. During a visit alone with my mom that summer we talked about the future. Suddenly she burst out, “Oh! I wish you were coming home sooner! I can’t wait for you to live with us!” I was so happy to hear that! I was excited for that day too, which was 5 months away!
