WLSU: Conversations with Nancy

Thanks for listening.

My guest today is the Reverend Dr. Herschel Wade. Herschel is the Associate for Discipleship here at the Church of the Redeemer, and I am so grateful for him. He has been with us for just a few short months in this job and he's still relatively new to the priesthood, but he brings so much to the table, so much passion, so much energy, so much joy and laughter, and so much thoughtfulness.

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While growing up, my life at home was never peaceful or stable. My father ran the streets and slept around with other women. He spent little time at home. When he was at home, he physically, emotionally, and psychologically abused my mother and beat us regularly at the drop of a dime. My mother turned full-alcoholic and gave up on everything except trying to keep my father from leaving for good. The long fight to keep him and endure the abuse would effectively break her spirit and strip her of her remaining dignity. She never seemed to recover.

Somehow through the beatings, I hit a breaking point. I grew tired of watching him beat my mother while courting and pampering other women, who could not have loved my father as much as my mother did. One night stands out in my mind. Like a crazy fool, I attempted to stop one of my father’s attacks on my mother. He was beating her on our front porch for the world to see, again. “Leave my mama alone Goddammit. Leave my mother alone!” My father chased me down the street. You damn right to assume he did not catch me. Had he caught me, the chance of me being able to retell this story would be less zero! The effects were no less devastating. My father kicked me out of the house; my mother packed my bags. Sadly, my actions that night would have long lasting effects on my younger sister. She, too, caught the “I don’t give a damn bug” and cussed my father out minutes after my departure. She would depart in the same way I did that night. She was twelve and would not return for years—yes, years.

My sisters and I became quite rebellious and unruly. We were downright out of control. We could not count on my mother or father for emotional, mental, or even financial support. As a result, I was the only one of five to graduate from high school, while supporting myself since the age of fifteen. During my senior year in high school, I was accepted into California Polytechnic University, San Luis Obispo. None of my sisters graduated from high school, despite consistently having better grades than me. However, the challenges posed by young pregnancies proved insurmountable to each of them. My parents never apologized for their roles in our childhood trauma. For the longest time, I buried my love for parents in anger, rage, contempt, and confusion.

Somehow, through the turbulent times at home, I became interested in tennis. I often played at the neighborhood park. My first opponent was an older man, who beat me mercilessly and laughed in my face! Salvation would arrive in a woman, who not only saved my tennis game, but saved my love for my parents. Her name was Nancy. She was an excellent player. I would often stop to watch her play, and eventually, we introduced ourselves and started to talk often. Over a brief time, we became good friends.

Because Nancy lived right around the corner from my parents, she was already acquainted with the ways, lives, and happenings at the Wade residence. Nancy was calm and wise. With Nancy, I was able to talk through my frustrations and problems and arrive somewhere closer to peace and love.

Nancy was a Christian Scientist and knew of a God who was different than the one portrayed in my grandfather’s church. Somehow God entered in all our conversations regarding my family and our troubles. Nancy did not have all the answers; she did not know all the thoughts of God, but God’s character she knew. She taught me that God is love, God is good, and the world is good because of God. Mind blown!

Nancy reminded me that all human beings, including my parents, were created in the image of God, making each person good and deeply loved by our Creator. Nancy reminded me that the sorrow and emptiness felt by my mother and father deeply saddened God. She also helped me begin to understand that at the root of my parents’ actions and behaviors were feelings of emptiness and sadness. She also helped me understand that God does not define us by the sins we commit—that we are never tarnished by our sins in the eyes of God.

Nancy helped me realize that in God’s dream, every human life thrives with meaning, dignity, and love. When this does not happen, we can count on God’s compassion and grace. Finally, she taught me to work on my faith, depending only on God when life took crazy turns. I no longer had the right to place unreachable expectations on my parents. Instead, Nancy suggested I love my parents in the best way possible. Those conversations changed my life forever.

It took time to be able to see my parents through a lens of love. When I did, I saw my parents' humanity and vulnerability. I could not imagine, or even endure, the loneliness and pain that constantly haunted my mother. How could I judge her actions? My mother was struggling, almost drowning. My father was not fighting my mother. He fought something within himself that hurt him until he passed at the early age of fifty-eight.

When I left for college, my mother and father cried, revealing a side never seen by me. I could now love my parents as well as lament their pain and suffering with them. Just like that, I forgave my parents and almost became a new person.

Well, I should not say, “Just like that!” One is never transformed that easily. It was certainly a process. The process of letting go. Letting go of anger, letting go of judgement, letting go of self-pity, letting go of things that do not serve me well. I feel as if I have lived a lifetime of letting go. Each time it has happened, “the letting go” that is, I’ve felt myself almost crack open. It is that cracking open that allowed love to seep in.