Continuing the account of my birth and the massive rift it caused in and between families in Life is Precious #10 – The Love of a Child: PART 1. We pick up at one of the church services where I'm sitting next to a kind old lady about to donate her last dollars to my greedy grandfather, the "Pastor."
I will never forget being next to that sweet woman who whispered out loud to herself "this is my food money." I gently touched her hand and said "no, you keep it, he doesn't need it, and I'm happy to say that she did. It was almost as if, the more money they got, the more money they lusted for, there was never a point of them saying "we've taken enough from these poor souls, enough." So now you know what kind of people we're dealing with.
Visiting other churches, the same tactics were seen. All of the tricks and frauds were on vivid display. The Pastor was always well-to-do, with new cars and some hot young thing that was this married man's "Secretary." One admitted to me that she had to share a bed in a hotel room as he had relations with her, his assistant. It seems him being married didn't matter. I asked her why didn't she refuse? She said his instructions were" I'm your Pastor!, you're supposed to be obedient to me!" After seeing so much of this in church after church, I finally stopped going.
I can still remember when my brother first told me that I'd been written out of the family's will. I wasn't even thinking about their money and was surprised when he said it. Asking why, he said it was because I was the Bastard Son. Because I was illegitimate, they didn't consider me a full blood family member. So of course, I went right downstairs and asked them. They proceeded to hem and haw about it, before telling me that no decision had been made. Then they took my brother aside and I could hear them whispering "Why did you tell him?"
Of course there were problems at home as well. My mother admitted that as an infant, she'd sometimes lift me out of my crib, shake me and shout "All of the problems I'm having in life are because of you!" That my birth made her the black sheep of the family. She'd given birth to my older sister the year before me with a man she didn't marry. The church was willing to forgive one out of wedlock child, that was just a girl who'd made a mistake. But to hear she'd become pregnant again just a year later and this time with a different guy, was a bridge too far.
As a little boy, time and again, she'd remind me that everything was good in her life until the day I was born. Since I was the "problem child" she never held a birthday party for me. Not as an infant or even in my teens. Each year I'd attend the joyful birthday parties of my other siblings, but when my birthday approached, the house got quiet as everyone knew it wasn't allowed. I'd usually remain in my room, or spend the day in the park so my siblings wouldn't feel so bad, arriving back home late at night.
My sister tried to hold a secret party for me once and of course mom found out, and she was severely beaten for it. Mom would end up having five kids from four different men, none of which she married. She was planning her sixth child (in abject poverty), when a social worker told her it wasn't fair to the kids to keep having children she couldn't afford. There was a program where mothers like her could have their tubes tied for free in order to prevent any more unexpected pregnancies, and she did it.
She'd met this wonderful man after years of fleeting relationships. He didn't care that she had five kids, he had three daughters himself. His wife had died suddenly, and after the mourning period, he'd met my mom. He was a wise, kind and decent man, very unlike the other men who'd taken advantage of her in the past. He promised her he'd accept us as his own kids. His daughters needed a mother and I needed a father.
For two years, he asked her to marry him. I was there when he said he'd wait one more year and try again a final time. She asked us for advice and I said "Marry him!" One year later, he asked her again, and she still said no. It seems she didn't want to give up her independance. He asked three more times that day and after the second, said he would step out for a few hours to give her space to think. When he returned, he asked her to marry him one final time. But after aa long pause, she again said no. He'd tried everything under the sun and when he walked out of that door, there went her best chance at a stable relationship.
During my entire life, I've received nothing, not one red cent from my grandparents or my father. Not a t-shirt or even a pair of shoes. Arriving at their lavish home, they saw the ratty clothes I was had on, where my poor grandmother tried to sew the holes closed. They'd take me along to retail stores where they bought my brother clothing, bikes and toys, but nothing for me and I never asked for anything. But I was always happy to see my brother smile when watching them buy him gifts.
However, the reminder that I was always being treated differently, was ever-present.
Every time I went down there I had to hear my brother gloat about all of the new things dad and my grandparents bought for him. They would hold lavish birthday parties for him, and then rush me home days before my own. He would always tell me that they would never hold a birthday party for me due to the conditions of my birth, and they didn't. But I was never the jealous type. The only gift I ever wanted was for my name to be found in The Book of Life, and to hear Jesus welcome me into Heaven at the Great White Throne Judgment.
Matthew 25:23 His lord said unto him, Well done, good and faithful servant; thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things: enter thou into the joy of thy lord.
Eventually, I tired of going down there and seeing the disparity between the way I and my brother were treated. Just before turning 18, I made my last visit and never went again. At some point I ran into my brother who informed me that my grandfather had died two months prior. No one had told me he was ill and nobody thought to invite me to the funeral.
My brother stood there for that final time and bragged yet again about the house they'd bought for him, the new car, the fully paid for college education and all of the money grandfather had left him in his will. The next thing he said surprised even me. "And you? you were left absolutely nothing, just like I said, because you were born illegitimate." And at that, I thought of my grandfather standing in front of God and being asked why he chose to help one grandson over another. Wondering how he could ever explain punishing an innocent baby for the circumstances of his birth. It made me decide that it didn't matter anymore, but what did matter was the need to get this toxic brother who was always tearing me down, out of my life. After years and years of being put down and constantly reminded of my second-class status, I'd finally had enough. Smiling, I congratulated him on his riches. I told him to never speak to me again and wished him well.
It kind of reminded me of that scene in my favorite movie: The Matrix. Neo is standing in the hallway and shot multiple times by Agent Smith. Collapsing to the floor, all is seemingly lost, until the restorative power of love, fortifies him and gives him new life. Standing, he faces more bullets, but raising his palm, he stops them in mid-air. Picking up one of the projectiles, Neo looks at it quizzically as the rest fall harmlessly at his feet. He now feels the inner calm and a renewed strength to face the future with confidence and grace. That's how I felt when I parted with my selfish brother for the last time.
Doing so didn't feel sad at all. I felt lighter, as if removing a heavy cloak that was dragging me down. I felt free.
I'm not responsible for the choices my parents made. I am my father's son. I do exist. I am legitimate. My life is precious.
So many people felt sorry for me but I told them the metric to me for a successful life isn't how much money you have, but where you go after you die. After all, you can't buy a spot in Heaven. I was never really weighed down with bitterness about my situation as I always saw the silver lining in life. Treating others with respect and lightening their loads whenever you can, is the signpost of having led a good life. Steve Jobs once chided Bill Gates for wanting to be "The richest man in the graveyard." It's true that you can't take it with you. So if you've been blessed with wealth, do as much good with it as you can and help the less fortunate. As for my grandparents family, they can keep their money. Seeing my name in The Book of Life will be reward enough.