MY ONLY SON

"... and there was darkness over all the earth ... and Jesus cried out 'Father, into thy hands I commend my Spirit.'" Luke 23:44 – 46 (AKJV)

As I was preparing to translate into writing my deepest thoughts concerning the evens that my son had endured over the ten years of his incarceration, I realized that Easter, as the world labels it, was not many days away. I prefer to say 'Resurrection Sunday' rather than Easter be cause of what the day and the entire weekend means to me. And, I truly believe that it should mean as much to the entire Christian community. With that thought, I sat back in my chair, pulled my hands away from the computer keyboard, as a very solemn scene began to flood my thoughts. I could only imagine what Mary, the mother of Jesus, must have experienced in the first century, over 2,000 years ago. As this scene developed in my mind, I believe there must have been a horrible stench of death in the air that day on that hill called Calvary. Hundreds had probably met their deaths, right there, on that same hill because crucifixion was a common manner of Roman execution of criminals in that era.

My mind began to focus on one area of this death scene on Calvary Hill. I imagined that I could see the three crosses, their tops piercing the sky, with a man in excruciating agony hanging from each one. Only the man on the center cross seemed to have any family members or friends around him as he suffered on that wooden tree. But, there were also several soldiers giving much attention to this man as they awaited his death. I could almost hear this man on the center cross cry out to one of the women who was weeping and groaning in sorrow at the foot of his cross, 'Woman, behold thy son." (John 19:26 AKJV). In my mind, I could also hear him as he says to one of the men, who was also sorrowing at the foot of his cross, "Behold thy mother." (John 19:27 AKJV). This man was dying, but in the midst of his suffering, he took the time to assure that his mother would be in good hands with loving care. According to the Scriptures, Jesus was asking his trusted disciple John to take care of his grieving mother, Mary, while He was preparing to give His life on that cross. (John 19 AKJV)

At this point, my mind fast forwarded a couple of centuries from this scene to a similar scene with another mother and son. I remembered myself as I sat on one side of a thick glass window, talking with my son over a telephone, while he sat on the other side of that same thick glass window. I recalled what my son had said to me as I talked with him concerning my plans to appeal the mandatory ten-year sentence he had been given just a few days before. With a sad, long, pain - filled face, Chris said, "Momma, don't go broke trying to save me. You have got to live and you don't have much money. I will be alright." I had no idea, at this point, of God's plan to use my son right where he was, behind prison bars. However, God gave me a peace that I could not understand, through the things that He did that only God could have done. This made me know that my only son was in His hands, and, that he would be alright. My heart continued to ache for my son's situation and the freedom he has lost. However, the more I observed God in the situation, the more peace I experienced. I saw in my own life that Resurrection Sunday was the culmination of a dark weekend of events that God's ONLY Son had endured for whoever would believe on Him. MY ONLY SON had been given the opprotunity to reach many indivuals, behind prison bars, and lead them to GOD'S ONLY SON, even though this opportunity came during what looked like his darkest moments. What was a mistake, or wrong act in judgment on my son's part turned out to be God's opportunity to arrest him, bless him, and make him a blessing. When I had given birth to my son, I knew then that God would use him for Kingdom building. However, I had no idea that this 'using him' meant that he and I would endure the kind of pain and agony that we would endure over those ten years of his incarceration.

"Cease, my son to hear instruction that causeth you to err from the Words of Knowledge." Proverbs 19:27 (AKJV)

I always wanted a son. Perhaps some of the reason for this mode of thinking may have been a residue of the culture of the Hebrews in the Bible days, especially in the Old Testament times. It was so important for a woman to have a son that a mother, who had accidentally smothered her infant son while they all slept during the night, was willing to, first try to steal her roommate's living infant son and replace him with her dead child while the roommate slept (I Kings 3:16 - 28). This woman was willing to steal someone else's child so that she would not be childless. It did not seem to matter to her that the child was not biologically hers or that her biological child was actually dead. This illustrated just how strongly the culture of that day valued a woman with a child, and especially a son – a male child. When the dispute of who the living child belonged to, came before wise King Solomon, the mother who had stolen the living baby was willing to see Solomon's order, to cut the living baby in half, carried out. However, unexpectedly to those involved, Solomon's wisdom in this ordeal revealed the real mother. The real mother was willing to allow the other woman to keep the living baby, her baby, rather than see the child cut in half! When King Solomon ordered the living baby to be given to the right mother, the other woman was now not only without a son, but she was also childless. This took away so much of her worth and value as a woman. I don't believe that truly was my reason for wanting a son, however, I knew that I could not do hair for a girl child so a son would be much easier!

My first child was a beautiful baby girl, born on Sunday, April 24, 1977, at 3:45 PM, in a very small, rural city in Georgia. I had endured a full twenty-four hours of labor believing that this child was a boy. I don't believe the revealing sonograms that we are afforded today were conducted on a regular bases in that day. Therefore, I had no idea whether may baby was a boy or girl, but I was hoping and even praying for a boy. I recall that I was in so much pain and distress during this labor experience that my doctors sedated me in an effort to assist the labor and delivery process; and, to assure that the baby and I could make it through this ordeal and remain healthy. I have to admit that I was a bit disappointed when the doctor told me that I had a girl. I kept saying to myself, "Oh, Lord. I don't know how to braid or plat her hair. I will always have to get someone else to help keep my baby looking good from head to toe." However, when I saw that beautiful little life, as she was placed in my arms, nothing else mattered. I was totally and completely in love. All I could do was stare at her, at the wonder of it all. I was so fascinated with the fact that I had this new baby that I became overwhelmed and cried for several days. They called it post-partum blues, but in my mind I was scared out of my wits of taking care of this little life. I made it through the tough times to say the least, and, almost eight years later, after a full day and night of a very difficult and painful labor, my son was...