Conversations With My Cousins, II

I talked to another cousin yesterday. After a teary tribute by his sister and brother-in-law to my late uncle, I asked him, "Tell me more about Uncle. How is he like?" (And I realised my grammatical mistake... but well, since he has eternal life, it's still proper to speak of my uncle in the present tense. But I digress.)

My cousin was cheery-looking, but when I asked him the question, his face suddenly took on a strange expression. As though he seemed to be digging, flipping and recalling long-lost memories. Or he was trying to summarise his father in one compact statement.

And he remained silent, with that strange, bemused countenance of his, his hands softly holding a cup as he stood there.

I became puzzled. I quietly said to him, "I'm sorry..." (Because I thought I had caused him to feel the sense of loss again over his father.)

But he shook his head slowly, almost imperceptibly. He swallowed softly, and replied, "My dad was a disciplinarian." Then he fell silent again.

And his wrinkled eyes softly turned away to gaze upon an unspoken memory, while his daughter played with her cousins in the background.

I dropped the subject.

Somehow, I sensed the feeling of a deeper sense of longing that welled up from him. Perhaps my cousin had wished for a deeper knowledge of his dad - who certainly was doting, yet disciplinarian. That sense of a desire for a more complete and fulfilling father-son relationship.

Was he bitter? Was he angry? Was he sad? I don't know.

But this I know: I'm thankful for my dad who has told me that he loves me.

I just hope and pray that my cousin finds his peace with God, and hopefully one day, understand better his father's heart for him... I don't know how.

And it makes me think about how important it is to balance grace and truth - especially for a father. Not to exasperate nor to embitter their children. But to bring them up faithfully in the training and instruction of the Lord.