Editor's Column
by Tyana L. Peacock
"She said she knew I thought she was evil."
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Preachy and judgemental witness
shows need for love
The walk from the plane to the airport terminal seemed to take forever. As soon as I stepped into the airport terminal, I searched for her face. Would she look the same after nearly six years?
I spotted her. Forcing what I hoped looked like a cheery smile, I said, "Hello, Mom," and hugged her.
She returned my hug with her half pat, half hug that I remembered so well from my childhood.
After grabbing my bag, we walked out into the mugginess of San Antonio, Texas, and hurried to her car. She asked me questions, and I politely answered. But my mind raced. Seeing her brought back so many memories.
My adoptive parents had allowed me to see my biological mother after the adoption. I loved when she came and visited me. We went to movies and shopped. We visited family or drove to the beach. We painted each other's nails and listened to music. Every visit meant fun and excitement and a release from the rules that my Christian adoptive parents held me to.
Although in the military, she tried to visit me as often as she could. While she was stationed in Fort Lewis, Wash., she drove to Oregon once a month. But as the Army moved her farther away, the visits lessened. Her income prevented her from making very many trips.
Eventually, the throne I had put her on began to crumble. I saw her as a human being with faults. In my selfishness, I felt cheated that she never visited and seldom called. The distance between us grew. When I called her "mother," I felt the title was a mockery of the true word. More and more, she became a stranger to me. I questioned if I even loved her anymore.
Yet I knew the biblical mandate: Love your neighbor as yourself. I knew no better way of loving people than giving them the truth of the Bible. My mother believed in God, but we had two very different ideas about what believing and serving God meant.
After six years of long-distance communication and a growing gap in our beliefs, I viewed my mother less as a mother and more like a heathen who needed enlightment. I only saw the differences between us. I pushed my beliefs on her whenever an opportunity presented itself, thinking that I was doing what was best for her. The few times she e-mailed me and discussed the paranormal or extrasensory perception, I left what I thought were subtle hints about the dangers.
One day, all my subtle hints came to a head. She sent me an e-mail. Her words showed her hurt at my constant preaching. She said that she knew I thought she was evil.
I sat stunned as I read the letter. I had tried to be careful. But I had failed. I realized that I had presented her the truth but had left out the love. In the process of doing my Christian duty, I had pushed her too far.
I resolved to treat her differently. I was determined to show her Christ's love, not just give her the words. I wanted to see her again and try to understand her. I never wanted to hurt her like that again. Several months later, I made reservations to fly to Texas and visit her during the summer of 1999.
We reached her little house on Fort Sam Houston's military base. She showed me her home and her two ferrets. I felt uncomfortable in her surroundings, knowing how differently we believed, knowing how I had treated her -- afraid to hurt her again and knowing how little I knew her.
The next week seemed like my childhood again. We went shopping. We saw the premier release of Star Wars Episode 1. We made each other dinner, watched videos and listened to music. We laughed together and talked late into the night. We even discussed false prophecy. She listened to what I said because now she knew I loved her and respected her. I felt my love for my mother blossom to life again. The love had never died. I had only forgotten.
On our last day together, I felt a genuine disappointment. The visit had seemed so short. I had only begun to know her. "I really had a good visit, Mom," I said.
"Me, too," she said. She said she had thought that I believed her to be some kind of Satanist, but now she realized that I had never thought that.
I never want to forget her words.
Tyana Peacock 's mother is moving to Washington in April. Peacock hopes their friendship will grow greater still.
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