Whispering Wyrd

Last night we were sitting in a restaurant in Texas with our granddaughter squeezed into the booth between my wife and me. We were playfully elbowing each other as if we didn’t have enough room for all of us. Every time she bumped me with her little elbow, I’d exaggerate my reaction, make a funny noise, and act as if I’d been seriously injured. The more I played it up, the harder she laughed. Before long all three of us were laughing.

Little things like that are hilarious to a three-year-old. And honestly they’re pretty funny to a grandfather too! At one point my wife looked across the table at our grown sons and said, “He wasn’t this much fun when y’all were little.”

Everyone laughed, including me. Then I looked across the table into the faces of my sons and, for just a second there, there was silence. Not an awkward or uncomfortable silence… just a brief moment where we all recognized the truth in what my wife had said.

For a quick second it made me kinda sad. Because back then I wasn’t a happy man. I carried a lot of pain, a lot of anger, and I was struggling with addiction. I spent years disconnected from myself and from the people I love most. Looking into the faces of my grown sons, I couldn’t help but see the contrast between the man I was then and the man I am today.

The sadness lasted only a second before gratitude took its place. How fortunate am I to have been given another chance? How fortunate am I that my sons and I have a good relationship today? How fortunate am I that my granddaughter gets to know this version of me instead of the angry, hurting man I used to be? I’d say pretty darn fortunate!

There is a tendency I think, especially as we get older, to think that certain doors have closed forever. We tell ourselves that we should have changed years ago, should have made better decisions, should have become better people while we were younger. We look at the calendar and convince ourselves that it’s just too late.

I don’t believe that anymore at all. For a long time I was the oldest person in one of my recovery groups. I had used longer than anyone else there too. That’s no longer true now. Somebody older than me joined the group and had used even longer than I did. Seeing that reminded me of something I’ve been saying for a while now… as long as we’re breathing, change is possible.

This applies to a lot more than addiction. Maybe someone’s struggle is alcohol or drugs. Or maybe it’s anger or fear. Maybe it’s bitterness, loneliness, unhealthy habits, or just carrying old wounds that have never healed. Whatever the struggle is, there’s no age when a person becomes disqualified from growth.

My life has taught me that redemption doesn’t really look dramatic. Sometimes it looks like a grandfather sitting in a restaurant booth making silly noises while a little girl laughs so hard she can barely contain herself.

Sometimes redemption looks like looking into the eyes of your grown children and realizing that, despite all the mistakes, love remains. Sometimes redemption looks like waking up in the morning absolutely grateful to be alive.

I can’t change the past. None of us can. The years I spent hurting myself and disappointing the people around me are gone. But I don’t have to live in those years anymore. What I have now is today.

Today I have a loving wife. Today I have children who still want me in their lives. Today I have a beautiful granddaughter whose laughter fills a room. Today I have hope, peace, and a future that used to seem impossible.

Life still has hard days. Everybody faces losses, disappointments, setbacks, and heartache. Nobody gets through life without scars. But the hard times don’t have to define the rest of our story. A better life starts with a simple decision. A decision to take one step forward and let go of what no longer serves us. A decision to believe that change is still possible.

There is no age limit on redemption, there is no age limit on joy. And there is no age limit on becoming the person you wish you’d been all along.

Amituofo
~Buck