This is one of my favorite pictures of Jason, my beloved son. He’s now 19, and at 1 am he knocked on my bedroom door. Jason lives with a group of guys across town in a bad neighborhood. He, of course, stilll has his key to the house. I found it strange that it seemed to me to be the most natural thing in the world, to have him standing there at that hour. Then Jason asked me to “come look at his cut”. I could see a mark on his forehead, and I followed him to the kitchen Two of his friends were there. Dragged from the depths of sleep, I looked like–well, we won’t go there–how would YOU look at 1 in the morning? The friends were very worried, and as the fog of sleep lifted, I cuold understand why. Jason was absolutely smashed: drunk beyond belief. Apparently he tripped into the edge of a wall in the apartment when he stumbled home drunk, and split the skin on his forehead. Jason had a long deep cut running vertically between his eyes. It had to be two inches long. The edges of the wound were not approximated (medical term there), and the blood just kept oozing out. The developing bruise would only cause the edges of that wound to spread farther apart. I cleansed it with half strength peroxide, gave him a bag of frozen veggies to put on his head, and confirmed what his friends believed: it needed stitches. So, I gave the insurance card to the sober one, the one with a license, and they drove off to the ER. Of course, I couldn’t go back to sleep, so I stayed up another hour watching “Mother Angelica Live”.
I am often quite strident in my defense of the Catholic faith, and strongly favor Catholic evangelism. My son is out of the Church, with no access to the Sacraments. I don’t want him to hear some watered down platitude about all paths leading to God. He doesn’t need to hear that “we’re all children of God, and it doesn’t matter how or where you worship.” I want Jason to know that the Church is the Ark of his salvation, and I’d like him to come on board before that first raindrop falls. I respect where Jason is right now as far as his thinking. He knows I love him. But, the best thing I can do for him is to let him know there is still plenty of room in the Ark.
Motherhood is a funny thing; the joy cannot be described. However, motherhood can take your heart and shatter it into little pieces. Of all the situations that leave a woman vulnerable in life, motherhood is at the top of the list. Motherhood is permanent. To watch with awe and wonder as the personality of your child unfolds is the experience of a lifetime. You hold this tiny new life in your hands, and then see this unique design of God blossom as he grows. When that precious person, the one you literally grew inside you, ends up making poor choices or otherwise ends up in a bad place, the heartbreak is nearly unbearable.
I hope that whoever else crosses his path will point Jason to the Ark of salvation, the Church where Jesus lives: the Holy Catholic Church.