He is Faithful! He is Faithful!
By Dorothy Allan
Our daughter-a lesbian? Suddenly my heart felt like ice. Howcould she, a Christian, be involved in such despicable behavior?
Pat, our eldest daughter, had always been an outgoing, aggressiveand often willful girl. I knew she had great potential but in herteenage years, although a Christian, she demonstrated a restlessnessand lack of direction in her life. My husband, Fred, and I sought toassist her in the decisions she made, but often things turned outnegatively.
After going through an experience with bankruptcy, Pat and afriend, Karen, sublet an apartment from two other girls. As we movedthem in, a sickening sweet odor greeted us. This was my first contactwith marijuana.
Several months later, Pat learned that Karen was gay and becamecurious about-then involved in-her life-style. Although we’d hadKaren as a guest in our home, we were completely blind to her lesbianinvolvement. Then a friend who knew the youth scene told my husbandand me of his suspicions, due to Karen’s masculine mannerisms andappearance. The words he used-like “butch” and “lesbian”-were totallyforeign to our ears. I had been in church since a child; my husbandand I had served as missionaries in Brazil and Guyana. We knewnothing about such matters.
One evening while we were seated in the living room, Pat told meof the lesbian relationship that had grown between her and Karen, andthe feeling of acceptance she experienced among those at the gaybars. My heart turned to ice. The silence after her announcement waslong and heavy.
Questions whirled in my mind: How could this girl say thesethings? How could she, a Christian, be involved in these despicable,dirty sexual acts? What did two women do together, anyway?
My mind could not grasp these ideas nor this change in Pat. Myheart was numb with sorrow as I heard our daughter’s silent pleas forunderstanding: “Please love me, even now-especially now!”
When I look back, I can only thank God for the self-control Hegave me. When Pat confessed her lesbian involvement, I wanted toscream and shout in rage and shock. Instead, I calmly explained thesin of homosexuality and the destruction it would bring into herlife.
The only knowledge I had of this life-style was what I had read inthe Bible. Homosexuality was always mentioned in connection withimmoral sexual acts and God’s destruction of people. To me,homosexuality was like hitting the very bottom. Had our daughterreally sunk that low?
But whatever our feelings, there was only one decision we couldmake. Pat was our flesh and blood-that would never change. She wouldalways be welcome in our home, even though we strongly disapproved ofher life- style.
After this, Karen visited occasionally at our home, but not tostay overnight. I could not hate her, although the day came when Ifeared her as she appeared to become entangled in the occult.
During the years Pat was living in gay society, we learned therewas much hypocrisy, lying, drugs and alcohol involved in the lives ofthose who called themselves gay. These people had been badly woundedand were full of sorrows.
My husband, Fred, and I began to pray. We had always prayed forour children, but oh, this was serious. We felt like we had lostsomeone we dearly loved. Her face was familiar, but somehow ourdaughter had become a stranger. I wept bucket of tears at the loss.
My greatest challenge was continuing to function at work. I was anassistant head nurse at our local hospital on the obstetrics floor.Now, as I look back, I realize that my work probably kept me sane. Itwas something to distract me, something else to think about. But nomatter how busy the schedule at the hospital, Pat was always in theback of my mind. I never ceased to pray for her.
“Lord,” I pleaded, “hedge her about, until You are all that shehas left. Set her feet upon the solid rock, Christ Jesus, and may shenever be moved again.”
In the following years, Pat overdosed a number of times. I feltlike I was on a roller coaster ride, watching my daughter experiencea tremendous inward struggle. Satan and God were fighting for hersoul.
The worst experiences for me were standing aside as a mother andnurse when Pat was admitted to a hospital’s emergency room foroverdosing on drugs. This experience even occurred a couple of timesin the hospital where I worked.
In all these experiences, however, I never felt ashamed of Pat-orof myself as someone who had “failed” as a parent. I felt frustrated,but never ashamed. I firmly believed that God would eventually win.
One time, Karen was present with us in the waiting room, and Iknew she was also hurting. She could not weep freely, and her criesalternated between wails and hiccups. I held her in my arms, tryingto comfort her. Later I looked her in the eye and asked, “Do youreally believe this is a good alternate life-style?”
As a parent, I was now experiencing the pain of rejection. Mydaughter was an adult, and the doctors were not legally required toshare details of her medical condition with me. I felt helpless,useless, totally rejected. It almost seemed that I did not matteranymore.
One day I was at work. It was almost the end of a busy shift and aphone call came through for me. On the other end, I could hearfighting and screaming, fragments of conversation: “Please help me!”… “Get a knife” … “manic depressive.” Pat was fighting with twoother women.
I listened, trembling inside with fear. I’m so far away, Ithought. What can I do? Should I call the police? What’s going on?And, perhaps the most painful question of all: Lord, how much longercan I stand this pain?
Another time we received a call from Karen. “Come and take yourdaughter home,” she said. “I don’t want her around here anymore!”When we got to the apartment there were harsh words and fightingbetween the two girls.
Pat wept as we brought her home. We changed to an unlistedtelephone number, but calls still got through for her. Over the nextyear, Pat moved in and out several times-but she always returned toKaren.
In spite of the turmoil, Fred and I maintained our open doorpolicy. Pat was always welcome in our home. Many times I listened toher for hours as she shared her pain. I showed her unconditional loveto the best of my ability.
My other two daughters felt neglected because so much of my timeand efforts were directed toward Pat. I didn’t know what else to do.Now I’m reminded of the Good Shepherd who leaves the ninety-nine safein the sheepfold while he seeks the one lost sheep. My situation wassomething like that. I made sure my “good” kids had the basicnecessities, then I poured myself into the one who was lost.
I remember one time when Pat had once again returned to Karen. Ihad come to the end of my endurance. Anger exploded in my heart.Okay, I screamed inside, if Karen and your evil life are so importantto you, go to hell! I will forget you-see if I care! But it wasn’tlong before my anger melted and the tears came. And life went on.
This pain and rejection from my daughter brought me close to anervous breakdown. At home, I cried constantly; at work, myperformance began slipping. And I was constantly exhausted. The restof the family began to fear for my health and my middle daughter,Lynda, grew to hate her sister.
But, somewhere around this time, I finally relinquished Pat toGod. “Lord, she is yours,” I prayed. “I yield her completely to you.From now on, my hands are off her completely.” With this decision,the burden grew lighter. God was now free in a new way to work inPat’s life.
We shared our situation with faithful friends, and they prayed.These prayers, and also the Word of God, gave me the strength to goon.
One day I was browsing in our Christian bookstore and stumbled onMarjorie Lewis’s book, The Hurting Parent. Later, I also read JohnWhite’s Parents in Pain. How I thanked God for these helpful books!
I did not feel guilt for Pat’s problems. We have been goodparents, I reasoned. It was not until much later after I read otherbooks explaining many things about homosexuality that I began towonder about the origins of Pat’s problems.
I still question exactly what may have gone wrong in my role asher mother. Much of it I still don’t understand. But where I haveseen wrong decisions I have made-even though my intentions weregood-I have asked forgiveness from God and my children.
Our turning point began when Fred approached three other Christiancouples. “Will you covenant with us to pray for Pat over the nextyear?” he asked them. “We want to see her restored to Jesus.” Nearthe end of that year, her life began to turn around. Our prayers werebeing answered, and our faith was strengthened.
But the battle was not yet over. Pat’s exit out of homosexualitybrought its own sorrows and pain. Now it was time to comfort ourdaughter as she wept from the pain of leaving Karen. She felt likeshe was going through a divorce; it was a time for compassionateunderstanding and support.
Pat did not come straight home when she left Karen. She went tothe home of a nonthreatening friend for a whole year. From herviewpoint, it was a step toward the “straight life” and a time ofmany adjustments. From our perspective, it felt like our home and ourlove were not good enough. What is wrong with us? I wondered.
After Pat finally came home, the road was still rocky: anotheroverdose, a lost job, emotional ups and downs. Both Pat and I werestill riding an emotional roller coaster. Then God took hold of herlife in a new way. We rejoiced that Pat, in the face of severalsetbacks, was determined that Satan would not win in her life.
Pat has now been back with the Lord since January, 1980. I see herlife as a constant series of miracles of God’s healing.
Perhaps my most difficult lesson was learning that adult childrenare responsible for their decisions. They have the freedom to makedecisions-then the responsibility to experience their outcome. Theresults of Pat’s decisions were not my responsibility.
Parenting is never easy. But, despite any mistakes I have made inthe past, God has been faithful. I can confidently face the future,knowing that my family is living under His watchful care.
Dorothy Allan co-leads a parents’ support group at NewBeginnings in Toronto, Ontario, Canada. She and her husband, Fred,attend Ajax Baptist Church. Distributed by Love In Action, PO Box753307, Memphis, TN 38175-3307