Grief-and-Gossip Fodder

To pull the most from the story of my early encounter with the look of a worthy walk (or the lack thereof), let me explain that in those days even men on road crews had a certain respect for a child and his family. Yes, they themselves could and did say the kind of things I said that morning, but they understood that their role as an adult demanded self control in the presence of a youngster. As for me, I had, in that moment of profundity, spoken in a way which made them think less of me and which surprised them with regard to the family which was raising me. 

It may help to know that mine was a dysfunctional family in comparison to the standards of the day. I had been the only kid in my elementary classes who came from a broken home. My mother suffered from paranoid schizophrenia. For the most part, her parents were responsible for me when she was disabled in an episode or confined to a hospital. Home was often not a happy place. However, it was a place where I was cared for and cared about. It was a place where a lot of attention was given to provide me with a childhood even though, as one aunt said, I had to grow up too soon. 

It was this home I dishonored in my self-gratifying outburst. I had not lost my place in it. There would still be another Christmas. But I realized without words that what I said would have added to my grandmother's tears if she found out, and my grandfather would grieve, and his work crew (and probably their wives) had something “juicy” to talk about.

It is that sensitivity to grieving God and giving others gossip fodder which is at the heart of a worthy walk.  

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