Archives For childhood

Bonaventure Drive

randomlychad  —  September 4, 2014 — 2 Comments

I remember the pear tree. Hoisting me aloft on his shoulders, I picked the juiciest, sweetest pears you could ever want to eat. I picked them for my dad and me.

I was three.

That tree was at the end of Bonaventure Drive, by the mailboxes, where it terminated and the dense forest began. Those were happy times, summer times. When I was three, and the lane shimmered with the Pennsylvania summer heat. Though the skies were always grey that close to the lake, the world was golden. Because my daddy had me, held my hand as walked Bonaventure Drive, hands sticky with pear juice in the heat.
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But three became four, and my brother was born. And the trips to the pear tree ceased.

Somewhere along the way–I didn’t know if it was me–my daddy didn’t have me anymore, didn’t hold my hand… We played ball in the side yard. He threw it harder, harder, faster, faster. I couldn’t catch it. I tried and tried, but it hit my tummy. Harder and harder, it hit my tummy.

I stood there. I stood there until I couldn’t hold back the tears. But still I stood there, the football smacking me.

My daddy was angry, and I didn’t know why.

Life was no longer the same on Bonaventure Drive.

'D23 Expo 2011 - Marvel panel - Shifting the Paradigm' photo (c) 2011, pop culture geek - license: http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/Life is full of vicissitudes, vagaries, and chance. While I believe God is sovereign, I also believe that, as C.S. Lewis said, “Free will requires a kind of divine self-abdication.” This does not mean that God is not privy to what will happen, but rather that he purchased our freedom at such a high cost to himself that he often doesn’t step in to stop free acts of others from hurting what we would deem the innocent.

Bullets, and bats, are not transmogrified into harmless rubber. Child molesters are not afflicted with impotency. The world seems to be going straight to hell without so much as a by-your-leave.

Some would point to this, and say there is no God. And on the surface, it sure appears that way. The Bible has something to say about this; namely, that this world is under the evil one’s sway. That we don’t yet see everything under Christ’s feet.

Don’t get me wrong: I want to accept that, I want it to be enough, but I have questions aplenty.

Why did I lose a sibling to abortion?

Why were my dad, and his sisters, subjected to such an unhealthy, abusive upbringing?

Why do I have no relationship with him?
Why do I struggle making lasting friendships?

Why is being a husband, and dad, so hard for me?

Why, God, did you let xxxxx happen, and why didn’t I find out until I was an adult?

Why do you keep shifting my paradigms, and peeling back the layers of my life like some onion? 'layers' photo (c) 2011, rosmary - license: http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

He never answers these questions, except to give selfsame answer he gave to Job:

“Where were you when I made the world, since you are so old?”

What can I say to that? Such is his severe mercy that I must cling to, and grope for, it everyday.

None other has the words of life.

How about you? What are your questions? What do you struggle with in this vale of tears?