Flavor #30 "Chunk A Cherry Burning Love"

So what defines 3 decades of Jordan?  The neon shorts in elementary school?  Those skateboarding adrenaline rushes of the teen years?  The myriad jobs in 3 different states?  Family intrigue?  Brushes with the law?

Maybe a little this, a little that.  Too much of the stuff you didn't need.  Scant traces of the hopes and dreams you once had for yourself.

Just before your 30th year, I wrote you the following letter.  I have no idea if you ever read it.  There have been some ups and down since then.  But it still holds true.  Things will all work out sooner or later.  Believe me.


Jordan,

So often I find myself thinking of you and wishing there was some way I could just take all the things I feel and think and learn moment by moment and transfer them into your mind and heart without words, so you could somehow see yourself the way I do.  It feels like when I try to use words when they're most important, I fail....  But here goes.

There are unique things I treasure about you--- your sense of humor; no one on this earth has made our family laugh as much and as hard as you have--- your tender feelings about our family--- your compassion for animals, or for someone down and out-- your passion, even when you channel it against President Bush!  I value memories of you as an adorable 'chub' baby, as a blond preschooler other moms drooled over because you were so irresistible, as a school age boy who insisted we should only listen to Johnny Cash on Sundays, not hymns. (Definitely had an influence on the family dynamic there. Never thought I'd even tolerate, much less like Johnny Cash, but you made a convert out of me!  I can even do Willie Nelson now!)

Remember when you would spend sometimes almost an hour trying to get little Wayne to laugh after he had been hurt?  From the time he was just over a year, he would never let anyone see him cry, but would go shut himself off in his room.  You were what, 6?  He couldn't keep you out, and sometimes it would take you 45 minutes, even more, to deal with his trauma.  But you never, ever gave up.  You just had to lighten his load, and wouldn't quit till he was laughing and could come out and join the chaos again.  I thought that was remarkable, no matter what your motivation, YOU SIMPLY WOULDN'T QUIT!  No one else could do that.  Or would have cared enough to try!

I think people show who they really are by the "little" things they do, more so than in any other way.  Some of my favorite memories include that time when you scared me to death by jumping out of the car and into oncoming traffic (yeah, well wouldn't that just thrill most Moms?) to rescue a cat that had been hit.  You cradled it as we somehow were able to find a Vet that was open on Sunday, and it died in your arms as you went in for help.  That's such a tender thing.  (Still, for what it's worth, I'd like to encourage you to stay out of the way of moving traffic--- once a Mom, always a Mom, I guess!) 

What brings tears to my eyes is plain and simple kindness.  Some of your random acts in that vein that have made my cheeks wet were maybe unplanned things.  Like when you made me stop three times one day in Vista to help people stranded on the side of the road with a flat tire or this or that.  You were a "mere" teenager.  But one with a mission that day.  And many days since.  You got me to go along with these inconvenient delays somehow.  Watching you be the Good Samaritan is still one of life's true highlights.

I was never more proud of you than when finding out that at all those Church dances I'd take you and Collin to from Oceanside to Encinitas, you alone were asking the girls who never got asked to dance... to DANCE!  The overweight girls, the awkward girls, the pariahs.   I can't think of anything more heroic, personally.  I so treasure that and it means more to me than you could ever imagine.

But the fun, and funny memories, are right up there as well.  One of the all time favorite periods in my life was when you were working at the Holiday Inn in Solana Beach with the "Arabs".  Dad and I would wait for you to come every day with your crazy stories that you would share in that "Arabic" accent (they were from INDIA, Jordan, but so much for details, huh?).  I never thought anyone would be able to make people laugh more than Dad, but you far outdid him.  He knew it.  And he LOVED it!  Your wit and insight were priceless, and your delivery flawless, day after day.  Ahhh, the good old days.

And even in the midst of that nonsense, there were some very defining moments. Like the maturity and finesse you demonstrated in handling charged situations there, time after time.  Remember the fight you broke up between the manager and the guest when they were ready to come to blows?  You should have rightfully ended up the CEO of Holiday Inn, kiddo.  What experiences!  We were more than proud of you.

Then there were some special times we shared in Flagstaff when I was teaching you to drive, and you would reveal your fears and hopes.  Bonding time.  Hey, remember when you turned to me to gloat, "You have to admit I'm the best driver in the family now!" as you went through the stop sign at the intersection and crashed into the car of the ER Nurse!  Priceless! 

Jordan, I know it's been a hard road, but I think it's helped you to feel and extend compassion.  And a little humility, yes??  What greater treasures are there?

As time went on, I remember pains inflicted on you that were outrageous and unwarranted.  (Some I probably even initiated myself when I home schooled you for awhile, but time to let me off the hook, isn't it?  Oh, how precious that was for me to be with you one on one.  While you squirmed!)  Other despicable things I would have had you spared, had I the choice.  That's life.  Not things I would have chosen for you to experience and endure when you were out of my sight, but things that on your path have made you grow, nevertheless.  And you have.  And will.

My respect for you knew no bounds the night before you were leaving to move to Utah. You had such great stress and anxiety that you told me you needed to just leave immediately because you were afraid you were going to knock down a wall or do something crazy.  Then you took a phone call, and it ended up being a new guy from work--- at the job you had just quit with so much... shall we say "history" and bad vibes? I listened in disbelief as you managed to coach him with patience and encouragement, when you were filled to overflowing with anger and fear, and were most down yourself.  Seriously, I was incredulous.  Who does that?  Have you any idea at all what that says about you?

What about the amazing Uncle you have been?  Beginning with Madison, you have always been the fun in the the world of the little ones.  An amusement park ride, a thoughtful gift bearer, a caring, goofy entertainer.  Where were you when I was little? Those kids have been so dang lucky to have your thereness and your theirness.

Endless are the moments.  But let me just tell you of one that forever stands out. When Dad was sick, there came that midnight hour, maybe a week or two before he died, that the morphine had run its course, and there was NOTHING that could assuage his pain. For the first time in that entire year, I felt out of control.  And scared.  Really scared.  I was desperately trying to reach the pain Dr. and do something.  Anything.  You suddenly appeared in the bedroom at that point and in total calm and perfect patience worked with him, minute by minute, changing his position, answering his every whim in his absolute agony in the middle of that long tormented night, with perfect poise, endless grace, and total love.  The hardest moment I have ever seen.  I marveled at you as I stood back and drowned in my total helplessness for the first time, and I implicitly understood, beyond any and all human comprehension, that angels have no wings.  Did I ever say "thank you"?  Perhaps words were beyond me then.

But you found the right words a short time later, Jordan.  The day your Father died was profound on so many levels.  That you were there in the morning when he left the first time, and you helped me call him back to us, changed us all.  We wanted that time to be together, to feel together, to get ready for goodbye.  We just weren't ready for him to leave, were we?  I needed you there during that time.  He needed you there during that time.  It was sweet, wasn't it?  What a gift to have him with us all those hours!  No fears for him or us then---  just tender, light, and even funny at times.  I realized after a couple of hours, that it was meant to be.  Honestly, it was so beyond what I imagined was possible.  I just didn't think it could get any better than that. 

Until it did.  When your sisters got there from out of state that evening and found they were a few minutes too late, they fell apart on the stairs on the way up to our room.  It was anything but peaceful or sweet for them.  And then you went out there and saw them, and immediately reached for Chris' hand.  After all those years of bitterness you had felt towards him, you grasped him and the words out of your mouth were, "By the way, did I ever congratulate you for marrying my sister and welcome you to the family?" So simple, so magnificent.  In that breath, you set the course for our family and I knew all would be well. We all took that in, and went in the bedroom as a total, complete family.  That had to be the one thing your Father secretly wanted, had been waiting for.  Instinctively, you must have known that, and in doing so you accorded him the honor that counted most.  What a gift!   I will always hold that closest to my heart.  Thank you.

Though you are handsome, intelligent, ridiculously funny, and sweet--- the total package, you somehow have missed seeing yourself as beautiful as you are.  Just a couple of weeks ago I was visiting with Shannon Hall, and she wouldn't stop talking about you, how her family just has always adored you.  Favorite babysitter, funnest guy.  Sean and Ryan used to ask specifically how long their parents were going out for, and if it wasn't an extended period, they would beg their parents to get another babysitter, because they wanted to save you for the longer hauls, so they could really get into trouble with you, and not risk having you get sick of them with briefer interludes.  She simply wouldn't stop going on about you--- you!--- not your sisters that she worked with, loved, and admired all those years.  You.  In my book, there is no one in her class at all--- she leads the pack of beautiful people, and she looks up to you!  Seriously.  How great to have her and Mark echo my opinion of you.     

You never seem to get that you don't have to be perfect or have pure reasons for everything you do.  And of course the despair and suffering you keep going through because you have never grasped your beauty, your infinite worth... and the deep anguish that has caused you is overwhelming at times.  But even these struggles and challenges, though I wouldn't wish on anyone, have been learning and growing experiences for all of us.  The good, the bad, the ugly--- all part of life.  All remarkable, and things that I value.  But these experiences--- highlights and lowlights, while enriching, and while they make me respect and admire you, are not what make me love you.  For you are in my heart, safe and secure, far beyond any circumstances.

I want you to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I love you.  I love you as much as I can love anyone.  There is NOTHING you can do about it.  Not because you have earned it or deserved it, or have in any way been worthy or unworthy of it.  I love you unconditionally because I am here learning about and becoming love, and you were sent to me to be mine and help me learn to love more.  NO MATTER WHAT,  I will always love you!

Sometimes, even so, I think there is nothing more I can do to help you.  But even if I am helpless to shoulder your load, and you have to walk a lonely path so that you find you can do it, my love is ever with you.  Love is more about sacrifice and forgiving than anything else.  And even though I have to set boundaries and standards because of values that are important to me, my sacrifices have ultimately been willing, and my forgiveness, infinite.  And I am learning that sometimes love is more trusting you, letting you do it yourself, and just being there waiting for you.

I believe so much in the power of my love, and that it is just the merest fractional portion, the tiniest taste of the deeper, purer, more passionate love God has for us, His children.  You would fear nothing, not even your disappointment in yourself, if you could but glimpse the overwhelming love He has for you.  I'm not asking you to believe that.  I just want you to believe that mine, such a dim shadow of that, is real and without end.  

Will I still run out of patience with you?  Get upset?  No doubt.  I just have so much hope that you will understand your pricelessness (think I made that word up) and that you will see what great things you can do.  Not that you have to do them, but you will find that doing them will bring you joy, and loving/forgiving yourself and others will bring you such peace. 

The things you are going through will give you experience, and hard and painful as they are, will work for your good ultimately.  The more sorrow carves into your heart, the deeper your soul becomes, and the more joy it can eventually contain. (*Gibran) You can do hard things.  You have done so many hard things.  You are slowly getting stronger in ways you may not even see.  And that will turn into light and inspiration for others as well.

Remember when you came home from the hospital and you were fully soaring because of how you had lost yourself in helping others there?  How you had such capacity to care when no one else there did, and what a difference that had made?  That's what you're here for, Jordan.  That kind of transcendent purpose, that sheer joy.  You are golden, hon.  Ever have you been.

Over and over you have, however inadvertently, revealed the bright parts of your soul.  When the light begins to shine, no matter how intensely, the darkness begins to recede.  One day even the lingering shadows will leave.  

Maybe you can't see or feel hope at times, but just cause you can't see or feel the sun on a cloudy day doesn't mean it isn't there.  I know deep inside things will get better.  It's happening already.

More,
Mom