The weekend started with such joy and anticipation.
It was Saturday morning, and I had just finished teaching a church membership class. As I was driving back home to round up the fam, as we were to attend a birthday party shortly after, I got the following message from the wifey:
"Mommom cut mm’s hair. I’m pissed."
Uh oh. I've never heard her use those words before in a text. A few seconds later, I see a stream of exploding angry face emojis. This was bad. I pushed on the pedal, hoping to catch things before it erupted.
I got home and went straight to the bedroom. "How bad is it?"
Micah turned around, his bangs were gone. Just like that—with some unthinkable, impermissible, god-forbidden snips—he went from the K-pop mop to looking like Lloyd from Dumb & Dumber.
"Oh boy, that's bad." A lot of words ran through my head, most of them four letters containing F or S. (Go ahead and buy some vowels! says Pat.)
So, now what? We go to the party looking like that...? And let's not forget, tomorrow (of course) also happens to be the day on which Micah would be dedicated in the church. Family and friends were coming.
Of course, of course. This was all part of the enemy's plan to throw us off!
I called Mom, no response. I texted her: "Please call me back when you get a chance. I want to understand why you cut his hair ??" She calls back 10 minutes later.
I was doing my best not to flip my lid. I put on my "good pastor" cap and started out with: "Mom, let's try to understand and hear you out..."
Here's the loose Cantonese-to-English paraphrase:
I'm sorry, son. I knew it the moment I saw Christy's reaction, I was wrong. It was just... OK, I'm not blaming anybody, it's my fault, but you know I was at the ADU and I tied Micah's hair up and your in-laws commented on how nice it looked to have the hair out of his eyes, and the next thing you know, one thing led to another... But once again, it was my wrong and I'm sorry and...
At that point it didn't even matter what she said anymore because I didn't want to hear it. And for a moment I really wished I weren't a "good pastor."
Somehow, we managed at the party and had a great time, my son’s bare forehead notwithstanding. We ate some tacos and played in the cool bounce house. Micah went down the slide, somewhat unorthodox.
I could’ve sworn he was acting a little dumber that day, too.
*****
Mom has always been Mom. For the longest time I've known her, it's been that identity on which she's prided herself more than anything else.
The same things I complain about now had actually served me well during a different season of life. It's what got me and my sister through the weird, scary parts of childhood and into college and adulthood. It's what helped to form a close, intimate bond that we had as mother-son when I was young. I'd remember feeling safe and comfortable going to her for questions about life (yes, even "teenage dude" stuff). I never doubted her love for me. I am and will be grateful for it, always.
Yet, what struck me as a point of curiosity over the years is—as I got older, Dad gradually became more like a friend, while Mom stayed...Mom.
And you know, at some point, a man doesn't need his mother to do his dirty laundry. Or to buy and deliver groceries to his home. (Or certainly, to snip his son's hair while he's away for an hour.)
But the hard thing is, it’s not entirely her fault. The truth of the matter is, I don’t think she knows how to evolve. As I assumed more roles and responsibilities, I no longer need a coach, but a consultant (as my pastor puts it). But if you've been a coach all your life, and thought you were pretty darn good at that, how do you make the shift?
You can talk about boundaries, and interventions, and all that—I get it, that’s all important. Those conversations are taking place as we speak.
But the bigger question above all this is, how do you love someone who has changed? Or perhaps, how do you love someone who hasn’t changed while you have?
Because here's the thing. Regardless of whether she can or will or does change (or not), that doesn't change what I'm called to do. I'm still to love her, I'm still to honor her.
I want to uphold her in the fullness of who she is, in all the healthy ways. I truly appreciate her intentions, how she expresses her love and care for others by helping and doing things for them.
At the same time, how do I push back when the helping starts to hurt, particularly not just me but those around me?
*****
Sunday morning came around. I texted her early just to confirm she was still going to Micah's dedication.
"Do you still want me to go? I feel embarrassed and shameful," she replied.
"Yes of course, our whole family is expecting you."
The service went off without a hitch, both sets of grandparents sitting together in the second pew. Although Micah didn't quite care for it, he slept through the whole bit.
Afterward, we all went out for some dim sum. The atmosphere was a bit awkward—it was hard to chat and pretend like everything was fine, to not smart over what just happened the previous 24 hours, but that was for another time and place.
A couple days passed, and after some hard conversations with the wifey, I decided to send Mom a text.
I told her that we forgave her and accepted her apology, but trust was damaged. I owned up to the fact that we didn't set good boundaries with her in the past, but it's something we'll need to do moving forward.
And we'll definitely have to pause visitations for at least a couple weeks.
I prepped my sister for a call from Mom, which of course, happened shortly within two hours of my text, and she was able to broker peace and talk her down from nuclear war. (I may or may not have sent her a Venmo to “buy a drink on me.”)
Yet here we are, five days later, and things are still unresolved. And honestly, I'm not sure how this will resolve. More conversations will take place, compromises will need to come from both sides, and who knows what Thanksgiving plans will look like this year.
But I'm learning to live in the tension. I'm trusting God has a bigger plan for all of this.
Because family is messy sometimes. Maybe a lot of the time. But what it means is that we don't stop committing to each other when things get tough or we don't see eye to eye.
And if nothing else, this is certainly a cry for help. People with parental / in-law issues, please help a brother out! I’m kidding, kinda.
(Stay tuned)