I apologize for my recent absence, but what I wrote in my last post about a mother’s love and being able to repair a damaged relationship has inspired me. When I wrote it, I was thinking about just such a damaged relationship, that between Pamela and her mother, Angela. It has occurred to me that I should encourage Pamela to reach out to her mother. It would be good for her to have that love again.
I have not explained the nature of the disagreement between Pamela and her mother, have I? In brief, then: Pamela was born when her mother Angela was very young. Her father did not stay to help raise the baby—though I am still unsure why he would not—and so Angela was left alone. When Pamela was six Angela remarried, to a man with a stable home and career. The two of them started a family, which of course Pamela was always a part of, but Angela wanted to forget the days of struggle and tears alone with her baby daughter. This natural desire led to an unfair favoring of Angela’s younger children, a thousand tiny hurts which culminated in an argument between Pamela and her stepfather, in which Angela took her husband’s side. This was more than a year ago, and they have not said a word to one another since.
I have learned some of this from Bayaer, who accessed the family records for me in the Repository, and some from observing Angela for myself. With Danit’s approval, I have spent some time with her, turning her thoughts to her daughter, trying to ascertain the source of their struggle. It has not been easy. Angela does not like to think about Pamela.
The experience of following Angela has opened my eyes to another side of humanity. Of course it is only to be expected—young Cupids are assigned to the best and the brightest, in order to keep them out of the dark. It is only third wings and above who venture into the dark to try and redeem shadowed souls with love. Therefore all of my charges have been good people, perhaps those marked by pain and sorrow, but still reaching for the light in their thoughts and actions.
Angela is different. While she is not a bad person—she loves and supports her younger children, she is a hard worker and committed to her job, and she is faithful to her husband—she does not believe in a higher power calling her to be the best she can be. She is weak, and we all know how the Enemy uses weakness. Angela avoids conflict, letting wounds of the spirit fester before she draws attention to them.
Let me give you an example. Pamela’s birthday is next week, and her younger brothers have been asking if they could go and see her. Angela always says something noncommittal, changes the subject, or tells the boys that they cannot miss school or can’t afford to take another trip when they are travelling for Thanksgiving[1] as well.
Just yesterday, the younger boy finally asked, “Are we ever going to see Pam again?”
Angela, who was fixing lunch for the boys, stopped only a moment. Then she returned to spreading peanut butter[2] on white bread. “Of course we are, honey, don’t be silly.”
“When?” his brother demanded.
Turning with the sandwiches in her hands, Angela set them down on the table. “Sometime soon, sweetheart,” she said, kissing them both. “Now eat your lunch and we’ll get started on that math homework.” And she left the room quickly.
Her husband, who had watched the whole exchange, followed her. “You’re going to have to give them a better answer than that,” he told her. “They keep asking about Pam.”
Angela shook her head, sitting down at the computer. “Why do I have to tell them? Why don’t you, William?”
“Because you’re the one who decides what happens with Pam,” he answered.
“You’re the one who fought with her,” Angela retorted, quick and defensive.
He sighed and sat down on the arm of the chair across from her desk. “Look, I was mad at her for what she said, but that doesn’t mean—”
Angela looked up. “She needs to apologize to you. If she doesn’t apologize, I don’t want to hear it.”
The sharpness in her voice and in her soul was painful to me. Though I did not know the particulars of the instance they were speaking of, I could see the anger and resentment so clearly in her soul. The other emotions—shame, guilt—were harder to see, hidden as they were behind the shadows. Angela is protecting herself by blaming her daughter for their falling out.
It is a cruel trick of the Enemy: when one falls into a difficult situation, one uses easy lies and self-deception to protect oneself. It is like falling into a grave, and pulling soil over your head to keep hidden from what knocked you there.
I am not entirely without hope, of course. William is an intriguing possibility—he does not seem as angry or self-righteous as Angela. If he is beginning to soften towards his stepdaughter, perhaps he could be encouraged to take the step. Or maybe I will work on Pamela a bit.
Any advice my readers have would be appreciated, of course.
[1] A holiday with questionable origins that seems to entail vast quantities of food, awkward family gatherings, and not as much gratitude as the name would suggest.
[2] This is not really butter, but refers to the making of peanuts into the consistency of butter. I am not yet certain how this is done, but I would very much like to learn.