Calling my Parents Back (Aug. 25)

I had been avoiding my parents for several weeks. I do not know how, but I knew it was time to call. Then I started getting phone calls and some texts. I knew that the intensity was rising, and I needed to call back soon to keep the peace.

I set a day aside and journaled out a bunch of things the could say, and what I would say in response. It seemed like the list of possibilities was endless. I was expecting a fight, as our last call was pretty tense. When I felt ready, I got up the courage and picked up the phone.

My mom answered the phone. That was not what I was expecting: I was all ready to do battle with my dad. We had a light, fairly superficial call. Dad was not available until lunch time in an hour. 

"We've missed hearing from you." She said, and something else that I forget now, which sounded innocent enough, but was intended to make me feel bad. On my sheet, I circled where I had written; "I am not responsible for your emotions -- I never was." I said I would call my dad at lunch.

"OK, well, bye. Love you..." Her voice was soft and sad, hanging in the air like musty perfume. It left the message, "We don't know why you are treating us like this. We are so good. And I can't imagine why you are pulling back like this." 

An hour later, I called back. I knew that my wife would ask me why I had spent two phone calls on my parents (well really, the entire day was shot, between planning for, and then calming down from the intensity). But I had myself all ready, and I didn't want to ruin another day. I wanted to get it over with, whatever it was.

"Hi! How are you!?!" Answered the most boisterous, energetic, welcoming version of my dad I had ever known, "Tell me everything!!" 

What the hell..?! I had spent all morning loading up the corners of my brain with ammunition for a firefight: but when I arrived, I met a circus clown offering me cotton candy. I did not know what to make of it at all.

He wanted to know more about why we were leaving missions. I gave him the standard answer I have been giving everyone: that we just feel that God is leading us in this direction, and it is time for a sabbath break. He asked what I would do for work, and I replied that I would look for a job, probably  do truck driving again.

"Oh really?" He asked, an edge almost creeping into his voice, "Are you going to drive the garbage truck again?" 

"I might. It was a good job," I answered, without any shame.

He hinted that mom had been missing me. I circled again the place on my paper where I wrote, "my mom's emotions are not my responsibility -- they never were!"

"Well, I guess you're going to miss it, though, aren't you? Being a missionary?"

"Not really. I mean, I am going to volunteer at my church. Preach, blog, do bible studies. All the things we did before being missionaries. And likely, I will have more time to serve God. And as far as the title -- who cares. You can take that. I really, really don't care about being called a missionary or pastor or whatever. I just want to serve God, and I can do that while driving a truck somewhere."

"Oh." He responded flatly. "Well, keep in touch!" 

There were pleasantries, and then the call ended. 

As I write this, it is February, and I have not spoken to my parents since. This phone call was the last time that I spoke to my parents in six months and counting.