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Recently, a middle-aged man visited his father and brothers in a northern state. He used all his money to get there. He had not seen his two brothers in over 8 years. He and his brothers had been excited about the visit. The brothers would be coming in from out-of-town to see their sibling.
This man, upon getting to the airport, called his father to come get him. The father told him he could rent a cab. The son said he had no money left; the father basically roared back, "Tough luck!" This hurt, brokenhearted son and brother laid down and slept in the airport. No one came to get him. He took the next plane flight back to Florida.
Abandonment is a common happening, with an array of emotions, clustering often around the sense of being betrayed, deserted, and left alone. These emotions include fear, sadness, anger, resentment, jealousy, confusion, indecision, ...
What are some words we associate with being abandoned? Death. Infidelity. Unfaithfulness. Separation. Divorce. An affair. Being ignored. Non-response. Left alone. Being fired. Being laid off. Having been lied to. Despair. Depression. Paralysis. Panic. Longing.
Fortunate, it seems, are the few persons who have not been touched deeply by abandonment. Blessed is a person who has no abandoning to confess. Even when a person feels he or she must leave another person, feelings of guilt can shroud the soul with guilt and grief.
One of my first times of sensing being abandoned, with feelings of intense hurt, was with the first girl I dated seriously. I was in my first year out of high school. Bonnie was in her last days of high school. She initiated the relationship, after she met me, when I gave a devotion at her school.
Bonnie and I had a very enjoyable and fun relationship. We never had any quarreling or disagreements. You would have thought we two were made for each other. Indeed, the next to last date we shared was to the beach on the coast of Georgia. We had a lot of fun. This relationship seemed destined to last forever.
This last date appeared the best we had shared. Then, during the week I called Bonnie. I was shocked to hear her say she wanted to date other guys. She agreed to keep dating me, only if she could date other guys, too.
Days later, I met her in town. We went for lunch. Nothing was the same. The innocence and connection between us were gone. That was our last date.
Later, I visited her much older sister. She encouraged me to let Bonnie go. I did. I had planned to go to her home to talk with her, but I chose not to. I never called her again, either.
Oddly, I went off to college, and on sign-up day, who was there to sign-up, standing in line ahead of me? Bonnie. I was saddened we were attending the same small community college. In such a small school, I would not be able to avoid her. I hurt deeply, and I did not want to see her.
I drove back and forth from home to school and back, daily. I would pray much. I prayed about Bonnie and the pain I felt.
Then, a breakthrough occurred, and one I did not make happen. One day, without any effort on my own, all the pain was gone. I was so thankful to God.
Ironically, twenty years later, I was appointed to serve as Pastor near where she lived. During lunch at a restaurant, I saw her. I walked over to her table. We talked. Her sister had told me, on that visit to her many years before, "We never get over our first love." She was wrong. I had. I could see this first love without any pain, though for years I had returned to the question of what might have been and periodically having dreams about her. The asking of what could have been and the dreams had ended long ago.
Now, this Saturday I will be 48 in age. Since those earlier years, I have known abandonment several times and in diverse ways. Yet, within that pain I have survived and found Christ and Love to be present. Through the loses I have come to identify more with Christ and His sufferings, losses, and loyalty to Himself and His Father.
No, I am not guiltless in all these times of feeling or being abandoned. I have made my share of mistakes. Possibly, some of them would not have occurred, if I had been more mature, or more loving, or more patient, or more forgiving, or made wiser decisions, ... I do not know. We can look back and ask the questions, but, actually, sometimes what happened would have happened, regardless.
My story is not one of those that simply paints this picture of surviving abandonment with colors of a pretty, pious faith. My story, likely like yours, is bluntly sharing in the contrary emotions that can engulf and confuse us, when we feel left alone, unloved, and uncared for.
My story includes the frustration and anger of times when I wanted not to hear another well-meaning person say how God is still in control or I will get over it. Sometimes, those words no longer matter to us. What we need is a hand to hold or a shoulder to cry on. At times, such religious encouragement in words sounds more like mockery than love.
My story resonates with the confessional account given by Kass Botterweich, in her "Unbounded Beneficence." She tells of having an unwanted pregnancy, with, at the same time: her husband on a picket line making only 45 dollars weekly, she being unemployed, the parents having five children to care for ~ the youngest being barely age 1.
She attended her church, to make sure two of her children had their confessional. She was overcome with anger. Kass writes: "As I sat in church attending our parish reconciliation service that night over twenty years ago, I was an angry woman ~ angry with God." She explains: "I was not ... the least bit open to even the remotest possibility that God's grace could penetrate the fortress of my anger and resentment."
Kass went into the confessional, simply to avoid having her children coax her as to why she did not, and she shed many tears. She left a changed woman. I will share with you her story, beginning after the Priest asked her to share why she was crying so:
Here's what happened. I mumbled the usual act of contrition ~ I guess ~ and the priest must have offered oblation, for that same deep, heavy and engulfing silence had returned. I was aware that my breathing was shallow but peaceful, and that I felt a sense of being saturated with something beyond myself.
"For your penance, Kass," the priest said as he rose and knelt down next to my chair, "you and I will sing together 'Joy to the Word.'" And without waiting for me to respond ~ probably knowing I would object ~ Father started, coaxing me all the way: "'Joy to the world,' come on Kass ... 'the Lord has come.' Sing, Kass! 'Let earth receive her King.' Sing, Kass. Sing right now. This is your part! Sing!"
With a mixture of absolute embarrassment and total confusion, I whined the next line of lyrics along with that dear man: "'Let every heart, prepare him room.'"
With those words, the image of my unborn child flooded my mind, and I heard my soul's unique song of prayer: "Let my own heart prepare him room." In that moment, I not only gave birth to a lasting and passionate love for my sixth child, but I came face to face with the ultimate and gentle power of God. There, in that place where I did not want to be, I realized that the presence of God and the grace of the Spirit were far more powerful than my anger and pride.
When I emerged from the confessional, someone had already dimmed the lights in the church, the candles had been extinguished, and my children had evidently wandered outdoors to await their very sinful mother. After all, I'd been in the confessional a rather unusually long length of time ~ one usually reserved for the greatest of sinners.
Possibly, there is a most important thing we can do during abandonment. That, at least to me, is humbly to prepare Christ a room in our heart. No, this does not mean the pain will necessarily go away; the pain may never completely go away. The pain, however, can be shared with Him. The hurt and aloneness can be given in love to Him. That may be the only thing that helps us get out of the cocoon of emotional paralysis and hope again in the goodness of our life.
Likewise, God can speak to us through abandonment, calling us to let go, when we have done all we can. A friend has often reminded me of a time of relationship healing in his life, when he and his wife were separated. The healing occurred only after he cried out to God that he could no longer deal with the situation, and meant it. Then, the persons, events, and resources showed up that was needed for his wife and him. God may allow us to get into a situation of this frustration, to teach us to let go and cooperate with Him in healing.
We writers often write out of our present experience, and that is, also, a way we process our experiences. I find that, sometimes, my writing seems more like journaling, even when I do not let the reader know what I am writing about concerns my immediate experience. So, once when writing on feelings of being forsaken, during the writing a ray of joy and connection to Christ arose in me. My heart uttered to Christ, with wide-awake joy and gratitude, "I love you." I, then, knelt on the floor before my chair, saying repeatedly, "I love you, Lord." See, even in the dark aloneness, surprising moments can arise of Someone saying, "You are not alone. I am sharing your hurt. Love me. I am loving you."
Our letting God work is more important than our trying to make things work. This does not mean we simply resign to total inactivity. This means we agree to cooperate with God, trusting and responding to His Grace and Leading, even when it does not make sense to us.
I hope this writing encourages you. I pray it will help you deal with any abandonment in your life. Likewise, may Christ bless you to companion others lovingly and gracefully, when you can be a friend during their times of feeling abandonment. Try not to try to fix things for them; be with the person, letting him or her feel and express what they need to. With your patience and listening, and shared prayer, the person can be helped to move beyond blame or self-blame, and look at matters more objectively, as well as reconnecting to trusting God to lead the way.
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A Prayer
Christ, help me never keep running from the feeling or reality of being unloved, betrayed, or left alone, though I may fear I cannot endure the loss. Rather, may I identify with your sacred Heart, a Heart abandoned by many, a Heart forsaken by those who claimed greatest love for you. Your pierced heart poured out blood on the cross; so, may I pour out my life in any experience of abandonment and, thus, like you, find life in willingly giving life. May I rise above self-pity and blame. May I hear the Voice of Love calling me home, even in such darkness, to the place of comfort and cheer. May most of all I not fail to trust you, even if you seem silent and far away. Amen.
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*The story of Kass Dotterweich is in Gregory F. Augustine Pierce. Hidden Presence.
*Charitable contributions would be appreciated to assist Brian in the continuance of his work of ministry. For contributions, contact Brian at barukhattah@embarqmail.com .
*Brian's book of spiritual love poetry, An Ache for Union: Oneness with God through Love, can be ordered through major booksellers, or through the Cokesbury on-line store, at www.cokesbury.com .
*Brian K. Wilcox, a United Methodist Pastor, lives in Southwest Florida. Brian is vowed through Greenbough House of Prayer, a contemplative Christian community in South Georgia. He lives a vowed, contemplative life and inspires others to a more intimate relationship with Christ. Brian advocates for a spiritually-focused, experiential Christianity and renewal of the Church through addressing the deeper spiritual needs and longings of persons.
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