That afternoon of the night my oldest boy ran away, we had talked. The topic was a topic that he was not up for, that was what upset him so much. The damage he did to our rock wall was still not taken care of. 

I knew he probably wouldn’t be able to fix it the way I would require, but I wanted to give him a chance.  He’d done nothing though, not even attempted to do it.  He’d get to it, he’d say, if it was brought up.  No, that’s not gonna work. 

It needed to be fixed, not “gotten to.” I was asking him to be responsible for his actions.  Weeks had passed.  He still hadn’t followed through.  The holes and some screws were still there.  I felt that if I didn’t address it, the violation would just continue.  

With the outcome ignorance produces, I couldn’t just let it slide.  Ignorance and lack of accountability is life and death.  It was for Grant. So for me, it wasn’t really about the wall, it was about life.  I told him he was still responsible to repair it or pay for it to be repaired.

So that one day is when I gathered all my single mom courage and brought it up again.  It is not ok for him to just ignore what happened.  Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t.  I would be deeply, emotionally hurt for asking.

It had not been done and I’d waited weeks.  This was unacceptable, so now we’d do it my way.  We’d talked about it before. I had set the expectation. Since he still hadn’t followed through, I told him it was time, he needed to repair it or pay for it now. 

I told him I thought it would cost about $150.  He had $140. I said, I’ll take that, it’s close enough.  I’ll hold it for materials and to pay for the contractor’s time.  If it’s less, or you really do it yourself, I’ll give you back the difference.  I thought it was reasonable.  

He shut down the moment I said, “Then I’ll take $140, that’s close enough.” His eyes went dark and his face stoic with tense brows and lips.   He threw the money at me, angry and unwilling to listen.   I wanted to teach him, but knew at that moment the teaching was over. 

He was shut off, closed and he had chosen to take that anger out on me and make me the target of that anger. He was sad too and angry.  I understand.  That is a lot of money, especially for a kid.  Yet, how do I teach them without the painful part? Without taking responsibility for actions. 

I would be an irresponsible parent if I didn’t try.  I was getting my strength back. I don’t always do it right, I fumble constantly… but I’m doing it, not ignoring it. I won’t stop trying especially when I fail.  I love that boy too much to keep him from the hard lessons. 

But this is apparently what made him so vengeful,  I “took” his money.  He didn’t see how I needed to teach him. How I am just as responsible as he is.  How I cannot run away from this situation that I indeed had contributed to.  Did he see that I felt he “took” my dreams and damaged property; the dreams and property I was building FOR him?

When I asked for that to be repaired, it set him off.  So much so that this day, the day I brought it back to his attention was the day he ran away.  When it was time to hold him accountable for his actions, he didn’t face it, he ran.  I was asking him to be responsible.

After this little money and responsibility talk, he hatched a plan unbeknownst to me. He prepared, packed and literally ran away when he knew I wouldn’t be watching… With the police, we got him back finally, way late into the night.

By the morning, he was finally committed to fixing the wall.  Our contractor helped him fix it.  This good man didn’t charge us extra for it, he had supplies and was happy to give his time.  Another angel that jumped into and out of our lives, just when we needed it.

The rock wall was fixed and it was beautiful again.  A little different, but still beautiful. I gave Rhys back the full amount of $140 as I had promised if it cost less than what I anticipated.  I held up my end of the bargain.  I kept my word.

 All the pain that came from it though, that would also become a part of me.  The new me, the “fixed” version.  The corrections were made to the wall and to Rhys and to me; but those corrections, like the wall, were not without new scars, beautiful still but not the same as before. 

New scars on what I thought were the finished parts of my heart.  What I thought was finally whole and beautiful again was violated and damaged again, but not ever without hope for repair. The scars will always stay as a reminder of what once was.

The scars are the knowing that comes from what once was so damaged, that it can be repaired; that is a beautiful thought and reality.  Repair is always possible.  A perfect finish?  Not so possible with life using that space and scraping it up a little.  

As I think about this story, I ask, why does it have to hurt so much sometimes?  Yet, I know that without pain, things don’t always get done.  How can things get done without the pain?  I don’t know.  My experience is that the pain is the catalyst for the lesson and the lesson is what truly erases the pain.  

The lessons keep coming for them and me.  I anticipate that won’t change, they will continue.  I’m not hiding the hurt I feel as I figure out how to parent these kids. These kids who lost their dad at a very tender age.  The pain in that catalyst is something I feel every single day and continues to push me to be better than I could without it and for that… it may be beautiful.