Tony had been trying really hard lately. And this is what he got for his trouble.
Meg was 15 minutes late.
Almost every Friday afternoon for the past year and ½ he'd arrived in this commuter parking lot at 5 min to 6 and pulled into the far corner. He’d park so that there was an empty spot behind him and wait. She’d pull her blue Toyota in behind him and Shane would get out of Meg’s car, throw his bag into the back seat of Tony’s and climb into the front and Tony would pull away. She parked behind him and he never looked in the mirror. If they had anything to say, Shane would carry the message. They hadn’t actually spoken now for almost 2 years.
Of course it hadn’t always been this screwed up. There had been good times. He had made jokes and she had laughed. Everything was funny. Early times, they had talked a lot - about all of the things that people in love talked about, and then later about all of the everyday things that couples talked about and then about the baby coming and then how beautiful he was and how smart and then…
What had happened? The laughing stopped and things just went sour. It was gradual but once it took hold, all it left was young Shane listening to his sarcastic father and his irritable mother building walls and getting angrier and angrier.
Until finally it was over. They stopped talking altogether and let the lawyers do it for them. The custody battle had been a battle and when all the blows had been landed and it was all over but the scars, Shane lived with Meg all week, with Tony on the weekends. And one month in the summer.
He shared his son’s life 2 days a week. 3 nights. 8 meals until it was time to drop him off at school on Monday morning.
Tony was a good dad. He made sure Shane did his homework but nothing else impinged on his time with his son. No over-time, no appointments, no trips, nothing. There was so little of it, that time was sacred.
And now she was 20 minutes late and he was getting angry, because he really had been trying lately. Trying to be a peacemaker.
It had started a couple of months ago in Walt’s kitchen. Tony had spent an hour doing a few odd jobs that Walt just couldn’t quite manage anymore. But Walt could definitely manage a cup of really good coffee, so they sat together talking about life. Walt started telling a story, something about during the war, and Tony’s mind must have started to wander, because the next thing he knew Walt was chuckling about something that Tony hadn’t heard. Tony pretended to laugh, but Walt didn’t buy it.
“What’s the matter, son? You’re only half here.”
Tony sighed and shook his head and said, “Nothing. Sorry. I’m just… I don’t know. It wasn’t supposed to be this way, ya know?” And he started telling Walt how frustrating it was to have so little time with Shane and how Meg could get on his nerves without even being there and how unfair it all was and how he had his rights but nobody seemed to think about that and how much it all sucked.
Walt listened the way only someone who loves you can listen and when Tony was all talked out, said, “I’m sorry son. I’m sorry you got hurt. I’m sorry you got your heart broken. I’m sorry you’re lonely and you miss your son. I never had a son. Or a daughter, for that matter. Esther and I had 57 years together and we never had to deal with lawyers.”
“But maybe I learned a thing or two over 57 years. Maybe it took me that long because, even though the Lord knows I love him and I loved my wife, fact is we’re all not too bright sometimes.
Walt poked the table with one arthritic finger. “One thing I wish I learned a long long time ago, is this. And I want you to think about it. Think about it for Shane. Talk to God about it if you need to, ‘cause he’ll have something to say. But promise me you’ll think about it, son.”
Tony promised. “What is it I’m thinking about?”
“Here it is. Just this. “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God.”
Whatever Tony was expecting, it wasn’t that. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“OK, I’ll think about it.”
Tony was a little disappointed in Walt’s words of wisdom. Peacemakers. Sons of God. Who talks like that?
What does it even mean?
It brought back something he’d heard in Sunday school years ago. A song by that monk guy who was always in pictures with a bird eating from his hand and bunnies at his feet. Every 12 year old boy’s role model…
He tried to shrug it off and didn’t think about it again until one Monday night he was up late, feeling sorry for himself and thumbing through a photo album mostly filled with pictures of Shane. The newborn in Dad’s arms, the fat blond toddler laughing at something, the skinny boy on a bike. Every picture took Tony back to a first word or a wobbly step or a lost teddy bear or a math test with a smiley face on it. He couldn’t even believe that Shane was learning to drive.
Man, how much he loved his son. How much he wanted for him, what he wouldn’t give to see him happy. And maybe it was the memories, maybe it was the late hour or something else but, sitting there smiling down on photos that were smiling back, Tony was struck by something. What if… What if being a son of God was like this. Like being in a photo album, smiling up at somebody smiling back? And maybe he was just tired, but Tony thought, if this is what it’s like, that’s something worth going after.
“OK, God. If you’re there and it’s worth it, you better show me how.”
Which is how Tony became a peacemaker. He’d thought about it for a while and the best he could come up with was to start by making some peace for Shane. Tony remembered what it was like to be torn between two parents and he wanted to make Shane’s life a little easier. So he decided to start by not saying anything negative about Meg, directly or by implication, when Shane was around. It wasn’t easy, but every now and then he’d remember to ask God to help, and it seemed like he always did.
So when Meg was late at the drop off, Tony kept his mouth shut.
When Shane said that he was learning to cook because Mom had to work late a bunch of times this month, Tony thought for a second, and said, “What are you going to cook for me?”
And when Shane said that Aunt Joyce, Meg’s sister, had crashed her bike and had to have her jaw wired shut and she couldn’t talk… Well, he had to talk to God about that one real quick, but he didn’t say what he was thinking. That felt really good.
But now she was half an hour late and he was angry and when he finally saw her pull in the lot, he nearly spit. She pulled in behind him and Shane didn’t get out right away. They were arguing about something and finally Shane threw himself out of the car, stomped up to the passenger side door and opened it and leaned in.
In one continuous breath, he said, “Mom says there’s a thing at her work Sunday afternoon for all of the families and she says it means a lot to her and she really wants me to go and I think it’s OK, but it means you have to bring me back here Sunday morning.”
And he braced himself.
Tony was already angry, but this… This was just… Sunday was his! The past half hour had been his and she had stolen it and now she wanted Sunday as well! He had the court granted right. He’d paid through the nose for that lawyer to scrape up just weekends with his son. Not to mention no notice, no thought for what he might have planned for the weekend, no consideration of how he’d feel about it and to not have the guts to ask for herself, to make Shane do it was just…
“You tell your mother…” He stopped. He saw the cringe in Shane’s eyes, the hunch of his shoulders and remembered. Peacemaker. Tony screamed for help inside and he heard somebody somewhere ask him, “What’s the price of peace, Tony? Is it worth it? What’s the price of war, Tony? Is it worth it?”
Tony swallowed hard. Took the deepest breath he’d ever taken. “Tell her she can owe me a day and is 10:30 alright?”
Shane blinked. Straightened. Breathed. Walked back to the little blue car and said something. In the mirror, Tony saw Meg deflate and say something back. And look forward to catch Tony’s eyes in the mirror. And the tiniest nod. The smallest smile.
“She says 11:30 is early enough.”
As they pulled out of the parking lot, Shane said, “Thanks. You know?”
Eyes on the road, Tony said, “Yeah. I know.”
For the rest of his life, whenever Tony thought of that moment, he remembered it as a snapshot. One of many pressed into an album that sat on the lap of someone smiling down at Tony, smiling back up.
Meg was 15 minutes late.
Almost every Friday afternoon for the past year and ½ he'd arrived in this commuter parking lot at 5 min to 6 and pulled into the far corner. He’d park so that there was an empty spot behind him and wait. She’d pull her blue Toyota in behind him and Shane would get out of Meg’s car, throw his bag into the back seat of Tony’s and climb into the front and Tony would pull away. She parked behind him and he never looked in the mirror. If they had anything to say, Shane would carry the message. They hadn’t actually spoken now for almost 2 years.
Of course it hadn’t always been this screwed up. There had been good times. He had made jokes and she had laughed. Everything was funny. Early times, they had talked a lot - about all of the things that people in love talked about, and then later about all of the everyday things that couples talked about and then about the baby coming and then how beautiful he was and how smart and then…
What had happened? The laughing stopped and things just went sour. It was gradual but once it took hold, all it left was young Shane listening to his sarcastic father and his irritable mother building walls and getting angrier and angrier.
Until finally it was over. They stopped talking altogether and let the lawyers do it for them. The custody battle had been a battle and when all the blows had been landed and it was all over but the scars, Shane lived with Meg all week, with Tony on the weekends. And one month in the summer.
He shared his son’s life 2 days a week. 3 nights. 8 meals until it was time to drop him off at school on Monday morning.
Tony was a good dad. He made sure Shane did his homework but nothing else impinged on his time with his son. No over-time, no appointments, no trips, nothing. There was so little of it, that time was sacred.
And now she was 20 minutes late and he was getting angry, because he really had been trying lately. Trying to be a peacemaker.
It had started a couple of months ago in Walt’s kitchen. Tony had spent an hour doing a few odd jobs that Walt just couldn’t quite manage anymore. But Walt could definitely manage a cup of really good coffee, so they sat together talking about life. Walt started telling a story, something about during the war, and Tony’s mind must have started to wander, because the next thing he knew Walt was chuckling about something that Tony hadn’t heard. Tony pretended to laugh, but Walt didn’t buy it.
“What’s the matter, son? You’re only half here.”
Tony sighed and shook his head and said, “Nothing. Sorry. I’m just… I don’t know. It wasn’t supposed to be this way, ya know?” And he started telling Walt how frustrating it was to have so little time with Shane and how Meg could get on his nerves without even being there and how unfair it all was and how he had his rights but nobody seemed to think about that and how much it all sucked.
Walt listened the way only someone who loves you can listen and when Tony was all talked out, said, “I’m sorry son. I’m sorry you got hurt. I’m sorry you got your heart broken. I’m sorry you’re lonely and you miss your son. I never had a son. Or a daughter, for that matter. Esther and I had 57 years together and we never had to deal with lawyers.”
“But maybe I learned a thing or two over 57 years. Maybe it took me that long because, even though the Lord knows I love him and I loved my wife, fact is we’re all not too bright sometimes.
Walt poked the table with one arthritic finger. “One thing I wish I learned a long long time ago, is this. And I want you to think about it. Think about it for Shane. Talk to God about it if you need to, ‘cause he’ll have something to say. But promise me you’ll think about it, son.”
Tony promised. “What is it I’m thinking about?”
“Here it is. Just this. “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God.”
Whatever Tony was expecting, it wasn’t that. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“OK, I’ll think about it.”
Tony was a little disappointed in Walt’s words of wisdom. Peacemakers. Sons of God. Who talks like that?
What does it even mean?
It brought back something he’d heard in Sunday school years ago. A song by that monk guy who was always in pictures with a bird eating from his hand and bunnies at his feet. Every 12 year old boy’s role model…
He tried to shrug it off and didn’t think about it again until one Monday night he was up late, feeling sorry for himself and thumbing through a photo album mostly filled with pictures of Shane. The newborn in Dad’s arms, the fat blond toddler laughing at something, the skinny boy on a bike. Every picture took Tony back to a first word or a wobbly step or a lost teddy bear or a math test with a smiley face on it. He couldn’t even believe that Shane was learning to drive.
Man, how much he loved his son. How much he wanted for him, what he wouldn’t give to see him happy. And maybe it was the memories, maybe it was the late hour or something else but, sitting there smiling down on photos that were smiling back, Tony was struck by something. What if… What if being a son of God was like this. Like being in a photo album, smiling up at somebody smiling back? And maybe he was just tired, but Tony thought, if this is what it’s like, that’s something worth going after.
“OK, God. If you’re there and it’s worth it, you better show me how.”
Which is how Tony became a peacemaker. He’d thought about it for a while and the best he could come up with was to start by making some peace for Shane. Tony remembered what it was like to be torn between two parents and he wanted to make Shane’s life a little easier. So he decided to start by not saying anything negative about Meg, directly or by implication, when Shane was around. It wasn’t easy, but every now and then he’d remember to ask God to help, and it seemed like he always did.
So when Meg was late at the drop off, Tony kept his mouth shut.
When Shane said that he was learning to cook because Mom had to work late a bunch of times this month, Tony thought for a second, and said, “What are you going to cook for me?”
And when Shane said that Aunt Joyce, Meg’s sister, had crashed her bike and had to have her jaw wired shut and she couldn’t talk… Well, he had to talk to God about that one real quick, but he didn’t say what he was thinking. That felt really good.
But now she was half an hour late and he was angry and when he finally saw her pull in the lot, he nearly spit. She pulled in behind him and Shane didn’t get out right away. They were arguing about something and finally Shane threw himself out of the car, stomped up to the passenger side door and opened it and leaned in.
In one continuous breath, he said, “Mom says there’s a thing at her work Sunday afternoon for all of the families and she says it means a lot to her and she really wants me to go and I think it’s OK, but it means you have to bring me back here Sunday morning.”
And he braced himself.
Tony was already angry, but this… This was just… Sunday was his! The past half hour had been his and she had stolen it and now she wanted Sunday as well! He had the court granted right. He’d paid through the nose for that lawyer to scrape up just weekends with his son. Not to mention no notice, no thought for what he might have planned for the weekend, no consideration of how he’d feel about it and to not have the guts to ask for herself, to make Shane do it was just…
“You tell your mother…” He stopped. He saw the cringe in Shane’s eyes, the hunch of his shoulders and remembered. Peacemaker. Tony screamed for help inside and he heard somebody somewhere ask him, “What’s the price of peace, Tony? Is it worth it? What’s the price of war, Tony? Is it worth it?”
Tony swallowed hard. Took the deepest breath he’d ever taken. “Tell her she can owe me a day and is 10:30 alright?”
Shane blinked. Straightened. Breathed. Walked back to the little blue car and said something. In the mirror, Tony saw Meg deflate and say something back. And look forward to catch Tony’s eyes in the mirror. And the tiniest nod. The smallest smile.
“She says 11:30 is early enough.”
As they pulled out of the parking lot, Shane said, “Thanks. You know?”
Eyes on the road, Tony said, “Yeah. I know.”
For the rest of his life, whenever Tony thought of that moment, he remembered it as a snapshot. One of many pressed into an album that sat on the lap of someone smiling down at Tony, smiling back up.
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