jesus at 12

jesus at 12


i opened the door for him and his dad, introduced myself and shook the dad's hand, and offered my hand to him, as well...his dad, shyly, looking down, said "hi, i'm walt...this is my son, zane"..."hi walt and cain", i respond..."no", the boy says firmly, "my name is zane, not cain", and he grabs my hand and shakes it firmly...i am embarrassed and apologize and think to myself that i like this small boy, so assertive...so small for his age...i was told he was 12 years old, yet he looks, like, 8...wearing a big baseball cap pulled down over his eyes, a huge over-sized sweatshirt makes him almost disappear...and he wears boots, cowboy boots, like his dad...

i was pestered to see these folks, sort of...a colleague kept asking me to consult with them, assess their need for family counseling...and i kept resisting...me putting them into a stereotype of the dad new into his recovery process as an alcoholic...not my favorite cup of tea...kind of cynical, i am, about some folks in recovery...not proud of my cynicism, just aware and tired of seeing good intentions and lots of promises go awry...

"so", i wondered aloud, "would either of you like a cup of hot tea?", and walt says "no, thanks", but zane says "sure, i would like some", and i offer zane the many choices of tea from the basket...i smile at him...i do like this little guy...he grabs a cup and i pour the steaming water...he puts sugar into the brew and stirs...i even start liking zane's dad...i watch walt, he is smiling at his son, in a kind of quiet, proud way...

"well, welcome..." i say to them, "andrew said he thought it would be a good idea for you all to visit with me?" "yeah", walt says, "but i don't know if we need to...i have been seeing andrew for quite a few months and feel like i got myself straightened out...it has been hard, but, i'm better"...he continues to describe some of his journey, though without being very specific...i don't push...i don't need to hear his whole story, maybe don't want to...andrew does a great job and this consult is to see what this dad and son may need in the here and now...i look at zane...he is tense, i think...

"zane?", i ask, "what has this been like for you? sounds like you and your dad have been through a lot?" he has just gulped some tea and sits the cup down...he is silent...then the tears well up in his eyes...unabashedly, he weeps, cries out-loud, spills his heart...i am taken aback, he does not know me...yet, he is suddenly describing what the last four years have been like for him...without stopping his crying, he describes how, time and time again, he came home from school hoping to have supper, but finding, instead, his dad drunk and asleep in the big chair, having not done anything all day...he says he counted the beer cans on the floor surrounding his father..."i kept trying to wake him up to fix supper...but he wouldn't move, i couldn't wake him up! so, i would just heat something up in the microwave or i would cook for myself"...(what?! i think, this little boy has had to do this?) i look at walt, he has tears, too..."walt? have you heard zane's story before? is this true?" (i catch myself, what a stupid question, i think) "yes", walt says, "this is true"...zane grabs more tissue and says he is so tired..."have you ever had a chance to tell anyone this before, zane?", i ask. "no, just my dad"...it is silent in the room...i am a mix of sorrow for this child, mad at his dad, sorry for his dad...i imagine the times this happened, seeing the scenes, feeling the lonely desperation of this little, vulnerable child fending for himself...time and time again...

zane's mom died four years before...a fast striking cancer, she died a few months after the diagnosis...zane was 8, maybe the year he physically quit growing...then, a grand-dad died...then, walt lost the ranch and they moved to another, less profitable one...zane's best friend moved...walt found a new romance but then got jilted...alcohol became his deepest, bestest, most reliable friend...and zane...no one for him...his dad is a good guy...through blurry, foggy, beer-stained efforts, walt loved his son while walt died inside of all these losses...and zane was losing even more...his daddy, like he lost his mommy, his friend, his grand-dad, his home...his age...

walt tells how he couldn't, wouldn't stop drinking...how he did the chores drunk, how zane learned how to do all that work and more, how responsible zane is, how zane is building his own herd of cattle, chooses one each year for the county fair and grooms, trains and proudly shows his stock...how zane tried to be so well behaved to not worry his dad...how zane leaped from 8 to 18 to take care of his world, to make his daddy happy so he wouldn't need to drink anymore...on and on, zane, who looks like 8, acts like 18, goes on...until, one day walt got arrested and then he had to face his losses, his illness, his sedated grief...

treatment does work...when the treated one works...the pain does not go away, it becomes felt, maybe understood, not denied, not avoided, but felt...and purged of its poison so the wounds may heal...

and zane should be 8, then 9, then 10, then 11, then 12, never to be 18 until he is...i feel my daddyness, my yearning for this child who knows so much, too much...i see his daddy repent and falter, then repent again to gain strength to be the man and daddy he needs to be...how to face his losses? how to face himself, alone? how to make a world, out of scars and pain and callouses, a world that is good, that works, not perfectly or ideally, but works, with meaning and love and safty and health? how to do that? yes, how to do that?

zane is waiting.

this son, this zane, who has so much courage and fiestiness and wisdom beyond his years, astonished me that day...wisdom, and age, born of pain.

"...and when he was twelve years old...the boy jesus stayed behind...his parents did not know it...they sought him among their kinfolk and acquaintances...they did not find him...after three days, they found him in the temple, sitting among the teachers and experts, listening...asking them questions...and all who heard him were amazed ...and when his parents saw him they were astonished..." (luke 2)

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