Spare Sons

     I have been putting off this story because it is long and the ending is somewhat sad, but perhaps it is time.  Christmas is coming, that focal point for memories, I cannot help but look back.  Toward the end of my forty ninth year God made me a mother again--eight times.  My husband and I had been heading, with some trepidation on my part, toward an empty nest.  Only our youngest son, nineteen year old Tracy, was still living at home.  It was not unusual for Trace to have friends spend the night for extended periods, but when Andy had been with us for several weeks, we felt compelled to ask about his long term plans. Though Tracy complained in his teens about his horrible home situation, he began to notice some of his friends had no home at all. Andy was one of those.  He had many relatives, a mother in New York, a father and other extended family in Kalispell, but none who wanted him.  Trace had an unusually compassionate heart, he asked if Andy could live with us.  He wound up sleeping on the couch in our family room.
     Then came Lance.  He showed up on our front porch early in the morning one fourth of July, looking for Tracy.  I figured anyone who knew Trace would know he wouldn't be awake that time of day, but Lance was from out of town and thought it would be alright. He had just got a job with a paving company in Bigfork and planned to camp on his family's property on Leisure Island, but the mosquitoes were bad that summer and we were afraid he might be sucked dry by morning and, after all, there were two couches in the family room.  He had planned to get an apartment but, in November would begin serving ninety days in jail for aggravated assault.  All of his potential roommates drank, which would violate his probation so, even before he asked, we decided he could stay.
     That is how it started, the first two were friends of our son, the next two were Lance's friends, then friends of those friends until eventually we housed eight boys, though no more than three at a time for anywhere from one month to two years.  When new acquaintances asked how many children we had, my husband and I didn't even know what to answer.  We had rules for living in our home, if they were willing to abide by the rules, they could stay.  While they were with me I was their mother.  They considered us houseparents.  One of the rules was that, if they were present at dinnertime, they were expected at the dinner table.  Most of them had never experienced anything like that and, in every way, they ate it up.  Mackenzie and Justin wanted to party so only stayed two months.  A.J., Andy's brother, left after a month when I said the word "rent".            
     Another A.J. showed up on our front porch injured.  That was a truly Samaritan experience since I barely knew him, but I cannot do that story justice here.  After he recovered I drove him to two fast food jobs for a month until he saved enough money for bus fare to Colorado.  Loren was a friend of Lance's living in his truck in the Kmart parking lot, he came to us knowing the rules and wanting to live here anyway.  He lived with us for about a year and returned to the small town he was from. David was our token Christian boy from a stable home, a son of friends from college who wanted him to live and work in Kalispell for five weeks that summer.  He was a novelty.
     Lance, however, was the one God branded on my heart.  He bonded me to Lance with the same fierce love I felt for my own newborns and I didn't know why until days later when he got in trouble with the law.  Lance was a tattooed, alcoholic felon; he was polite, respectful, helpful and he was irresponsible, impulsive, unpredictable. He had lots of drinking buddies, a parade of girlfriends and a couple real friends. He didn't fit anywhere in my family, friends and life, but he fit in my heart perfectly.  He met my deepest need--someone to see me without my competent mask on and know what to do.  He also awoke my greatest fear--abandonment.  I knew even before hearing his life story that he was the kind that walks away, but I couldn't help but give him the love God had given me for him.  He left two years ago.  I have never heard from him, but God gave me the assurance before he left that I had completed the part I was to play in Lance's life and that Lance would be okay.  I cling to that.
     For the season of the spare sons I was able to do what God has always commanded us to:  feed the hungry, clothe those who came with nothing, take care of the sick, visit them in jail.  My life was filled with boys, noise and joys, but it also opened a deep inner sorrow that the mother's love I gave to them was one I had never known from my own mentally ill mother.  Despite the spiritual and emotional upheaval I was in, I was able to talk to each one about knowing the Lord.  I was able to plant the gospel, like a time bomb, in their minds.  I pray everyday for each of them.  I would like to know how they are doing, but these are not the sort of boys to have cell phones or internet access on a regular basis, so I must content myself knowing that I served God's purpose for that time in my life and He would take it from there.  I have never been more challenged or blessed in my whole life as at the season of the spare sons.  I hope they can say the same.