Foreword
“Each one has his reasons: for one, art is a flight; or another a means of conquering. Why does it have to be writing, why does one have to manage his escapes and conquests by writing? Because, behind the various aims of the authors, there is a deeper and more immediate choice…” Sartre, Jean Paul (1905 – ) Reason & Writing
There are moments that one has no desire to return to and then there are those special moments one longs to relive. Perhaps it is the anticipation of capturing something missed, that would augment the understanding of the significance of the moment, that intensifies the desire to go back. Alas one can not turn back the hands of time. However, retelling of the account allows one to escape the present and relive the desired moment, if not only for the duration of it’s narration. Writing this memoir has allowed me to revisit a special moment that changed my life for the better and allowed me to understand a great aspect of love.
True Love
The Greeks, faced with the complexity of the term, defined four phrases to differentiate types of love: “eros” (passionate love, with sensual desire and longing), “philo” (dispassionate virtuous love), “agape” (general affection or deeper sense of “true love”), and “storge” (natural affection as between a parent and a child). A testament of their inadequacies, Plato, one of the great thinkers in Greek historicity, added “platonic love” to the definition of love in his time. This is my story of how I experienced one aspect of love.
It was on a Wednesday afternoon in May of 2006. Nothing significant was on my agenda and seemingly I had plenty of time. Maria, one of my coworkers, had been trying to get me to visit her church and this was a perfect time to fulfill that obligation. She always made it a point to tell me about her church every time we crossed paths. She would tell me about all the wonderful things that were happening in her life as a result of being in church. I had used every excuse in the book to get out of going to church with her.
Maria was one of those people that everyone did not like to be around. She was such a religious lady and made sure that everyone knew about it. She was not ashamed to confess her faith. No matter how everyone attempted to avoid her, she never showed any malice or discouragement. She always smiled and had pleasant things to say to anyone that crossed her path.
Work was getting unbearable because of the burden of attempting to avoid her. I just could not say no to her. I guess my day of reckoning had come. I decided to visit her church so that I could get her off my back once and for all. It was not the most comfortable decision to make, but for my peace I had to do it. I had not been in church for years. At least I did not have to dress up in my Sunday best like when I went to church with my parents.
As we were driving to the church, I wondered if it would be like the last day I was in church countless years ago. We would sing a couple of songs, clap our hands, give an offering and wait for the preacher to say a few words, the benediction and we are off. I imagined what he would be preaching on today, thinking I have heard all that I needed to hear about church and God. I do not remember why I stopped going to church, but I am pretty convinced I had legitimate reasons for making that decision.
Conveniently, she had forgotten to tell me that the service was going to be different on this particular Wednesday. It was not a normal church service because they were having a prayer meeting for the whole hour. What am I going to do for the whole hour? I have not been in a prayer meeting, or even said a prayer most and if not all my adult life. From the look of things, this was going to be a day I would rather forget. However, the consolation in all this, was that I would finally get her off my back.
I started to rehearse all the things that I would pray for during the hour. I convinced myself to make the most of the time that I was there. I pulled out my pad and wrote down all the things I was going to talk to God about. Judging by the length of my list, I had sufficient petitions to cover the entire hour, since I had not been here for such a long time. Firstly, I would apologize for not having visited church, or prayed in such a long time, and then move down my list.
As we walked into the church, everything looked like it did the last time I was in church, even though it was in a different country and at a different time. I suppose they build churches the same, since they all serve the same purpose. Everything seemed a little smaller than the last time I had been in church. A few announcements were made and some instructions were given pertaining to the order of the service. We were told to find a place to pray.
I found myself a good spot, far from Maria so that she could not see me reading my list, as this would have been so embarrassing. I started going down my long list, and fifteen minutes later I was through. I guess the list was not as long as it needed to be. At this point in time, I started questioning the wisdom of having agreed to come to church on this particular day. “You should just have had the guts to tell her no,” I told myself. “It’s not your fault, she should have at least told you what to expect when she was asking you to come with her,” At least I would have prepared better or maybe I would have added other items to my prayer list.
I loathed Maria for having put me in such a terrible predicament, and I resolved that I was going to let her know how uncomfortable this had made me. I was in a crisis, “should I stay or should I go?” What would her opinion of me be if I leave early? I have a reputation to maintain. I had forgotten that she drove us to church in her car. I could not leave. Since people were walking as they were praying, I decided to go to the very back of the church and take a nap on the last pew until it was time to go.
Considering the present circumstance, this was a cunning plan that would save me the embarrassment, provided I did not snore during the nap. Little did I know that this was going to be the pew in which my life would forever be changed. I moved to the back and found a dimly lit place on the last pew and put my head down to sleep.
I cannot recall the exact moment when this happened, or how long I had been asleep when a strange thought entered my mind and disturbed my sleep. I’m not a parent, but these are the things that I spoke loudly in my semi-conscious state of mind. “We have been given the privilege to be parents and progenitors of the generations to come. Yet we have neglected the very duties that were endowed unto us. Our duties besides those of provision include teaching our children proper values, teaching them what is morally right, and the true meaning of love.” Oh! Why do I speak such things when I have no children of my own? And certainly, I do not see them in the distant future? All I want to do is sleep until it’s time to leave this place. I tried to put my mind on others things, however, the present discourse got louder.
“Forgive us for the children that we murdered and those we are murdering. Forgive us for those children who we abandoned and never allowed to see the goodness of the land.” Wait a minute, why do I ask for forgiveness when I have not done any of these things? Why is there no one answering me? The more I inquired, the more these great emotions swelled up inside of me and the floodgates opened. Tears clouded my eyes, and a greater passion encompassed my heart. I contested sharply to the unfairness of it all. I do not want to be here and let alone feel the way I do.
My questions and contentions apparently fell on deaf ears, as the stubborn discourse persisted. I have never felt this way before, or have I cried as such in a long time. “Forgive us for the children we have not taught how to love because we have denied them love. We repent for having contributed to the growth of a generation that has turned their backs on what is right and have embraced that which is repulsive.” As these words were sounding, my life flashed before me. The things that I know are wrong, yet I find pleasure not only in their pursuit but also in their indulgence.
I remembered the things that I would never dare to attempt or be caught doing in my days of old. I have mastered the art of doing them. As I continued to ponder on the long-gone days and the present, my mind was corralled back to the discourse of this strange hour. “Forgive us for not having instilled proper work ethics in our children, so that they know the value of work. Forgive us for polluting our children with our revolutions in our quest to establish our identity as a generation. Yes the sex revolution is ours. And it was the best time of our lives. To consider how much our indulgence has contributed to the increases in: broken homes; broken marriages; pregnant teenagers; fatherless and motherless children; promiscuity; adultery; fornication; grieves my heart with deathly sorrow”.
I was not alive in these years, so why must I be filled with such great sorrow for that which I do not own? Why should I speak on behalf of this generation? But no one answered my question, and the thought perpetuated. “We were supposed to teach them what it means to be a man, a woman, a husband, a wife, a father and a mother; instead all we have provided for, have been greater means of escape from these very responsibilities. What unimaginable traditions have we inspired in our children? It is right to hurt and kill someone of a different color or race, it is right to hate someone because they speak a language different from ours.”
“Forgive us for the money we have provided for our children to buy guns. Forgive us for the drugs we have sold to our children, Forgive us for the pornography that has enticed our children and for the television that has alienated our children.” I could hardly control myself as the tears gashed and I got louder in my cry. I forgot about everyone that was in the sanctuary, and my desire to have the hour pass. I was in my own world now, driven by this thought being vocalized through me. It appeared time had stood still as I was not concerned about how long I had been praying, or how I still had before the end of the hour.
With each resounding word, a greater level of compassion and love for the children surged through me. I have never felt such great a power that could provoke such deep emotions in me. Here I am covered in tears, weeping over children that are not mine. I remembered when I was young, and how my parents were always there for me. I wondered how my life would have turned out if they were not there for me. Suddenly I had an epiphany of great appreciation for my parents. They may not have given me the best of things in the world, but they gave me the best that they could. Above all, it was that assurance of knowing that they loved me enough to give me all that they could.
Any resentment I had towards my parents for not having raised me in a better neighborhood; or send me to a better school or buy the nice toys dissipated. I realized in that moment, how great life had favored me by giving me such wonderful people to be my parents. I began to see my parents in a different light now.
I remembered what happened the day I left my parents’ house like it happened yesterday. We had a big fight because I was not happy with what they wanted me to do. I just did not want to be told what to do because I was a grown up. I needed to be my own person and make my own decisions. If they could not deal with that, I would move out. During the heated argument, many hurtful things were said needless to say, I did not leave home on good terms.
Why is it that in such a moment, not of my choosing, I have to confront such emotions and begin to resolve issues that are in my past? Perhaps there must be a greater purpose to this hour than that of me coming to church, because of my desires to get Maria off my back. As a sense of the significance of this moment began to become more evident, I found myself yielding more and more to the cerebration, as everything in me began to agree with the thought.
Everything in me now urged me to pursue even more this thought perhaps even more things in my past would be dealt with. As I spoke a word, every part of my being seemed to be in agreement. “My heart weeps sore for the bleakness of days that confronts our children. I am overwhelmed with shame when I consider how much we have neglected our assignment. Over the years we have witnessed a rampant increase of other influences yet we have not raised our voices or done anything to reverse our predicament. It seems we have desired for them to suffer the things that we suffered on their own without us imparting the wisdom of life unto them. Our latitudes and indulgences have now become the vices for our children,”
At this moment I began to look into my life and considered some of the things that I do and establish their genesis. To explain what I felt at this point is beyond words, my past collided with my present to set the future on a particular course. I realized that at this moment, I had experienced something new. I had never been in this place before and I do not know if I would ever return, but it felt so good.
As the memories of my past raced through my mind, I became aware that the tears that streamed down my eyes were no longer tears of anguish from the words proceeding from my lips. They were now, tears of a joy, which I could not explain. I did not know that these things were buried inside of me. What a way to come into a place and have your deeper issues excavated and one be forever changed. I waited for another dose to see what else could come from this discourse.
“Martha! Martha…” someone called my name, I was astonished as someone patted my shoulder. I was startled; it was only Maria calling me for it was time to go. I wished I had more time in this place but I had to leave. As we went to the front and concluded the formalities of the service I had a lot on my mind. Should I tell her about what happened to me? Did she overhear me as I was speaking? If she did, what does she think of me now? What happened to me within the time that I had this experience? Will I ever experience the same thing again? And why did it happen to me of all people? Where do I go from here?
A moment like this does not remain where you encountered it, but it forever becomes a part of you, and triggers actions that you must engage in to fulfill what commenced in you. Suddenly it was no longer an insignificantly slow day. I had so much that I needed to do. As soon as I walked into the office, I called my parents and apologized for the anger and resentment I had towards them for what I perceived to be their shortcomings. This was one of the most productive conversations that I had ever had with my parents. All the years of animosity paled as our relationship was being restored.
To say that I completely understand what happened or what caused me to say the things that I said, would be such an overstatement. All I know is that it happened. Do I really want to know the mechanics of its initiation? Far from it — what is important to me is that something happened and my relationship with my parents was restored. I wish this moment had happened sooner, and all the wasted years would not have been such. But who knows, perhaps I was not ready for it to happen.
I finally have an understanding that the love of a parent will never fade. No matter how much you try to distance yourself from them, they will always love you. This, in my mind is the true definition of love, no matter how many mistakes you made, they will still love you.
