Bridge Called Hope (10 page)

The case worker soon arrived, and not long afterward Brenda’s van also pulled into the yard. To help camouflage and “normalize” the meeting, Brenda wisely decided to bring four of her older kids along with Jason. Not wishing to set him up for a heart break, Brenda shared only that there would be a few “others” at the ranch as well. Immediately, with the acute sensitivity that only a foster child can have, his apprehension began to rise with the very real awareness that he might be abandoned with strangers once again. Brenda, realizing his rising fear, quickly followed with, “Hey, it’s really cold today. How about when we
all
get home, we will
all together
make hot chocolate with marshmallows …” Although visibly relieved, Jason knew something was up.

Lord, this is it; please help heal what is left of this family
 … I prayed as I gently moved a very nervous young man and his
equally tense mother toward the lost remnant of what was once a family.

Introductions flew back and forth in a tangled jumble of words, handshakes, and hugs. Everyone but Jason was acutely aware of the incredible impact that the next few moments would hold.

I watched him as he looked up into the face of the man who was his real father … with absolutely no recognition at all. I could not even begin to imagine the shattering pain raining down within Travis’s heart at that moment. Travis bent down, took his sunglasses off and gently introduced himself.

I could hardly believe what I was seeing once this man’s sunglasses were removed … there were revealed the most incredibly blue eyes … framed by the longest eyelashes I had ever seen. They, too, not only brushed his cheeks … but his brows as well. Wonder totally enveloped me as I watched near mirror images greet each other face to face.

Sandy took Brenda’s kids and began tacking up Jasmine, an older, gray Appaloosa mare. I invited Travis to join Jason, Nathan (the youngest of Brenda’s kids), and me as we groomed and tacked up Teva, a wonderfully short and sweet palomino mare.

My own concerns for Travis began to rise as I became acutely aware of his sudden pallor transformation. His skin tone seemed to be changing quite suddenly from an adrenalized flushed pink to a clammy white. After politely excusing himself, Travis seemed to be spending more time behind the round pen than with our little gathering at the hitching post. I wasn’t certain, but within such an emotionally charged environment, I wouldn’t have been surprised if he was throwing up.

Travis had been made aware that his lost son’s life had been
disastrous. He understood that as much as he wanted to, he could not rush in and scoop up his son in a flurry of kisses. Though he ached to, he could not say, “Hey, I’m your dad, I love you, and I’m taking you home with me.” He acknowledged that in order for this meeting to be “processed” by Jason … he had to go slow and wait for the right moment.

As the two little boys and I led Teva out into the arena, Jason looked up at me with a small furrow between his brows. “I’ve never ridden a horse before,” he admitted in a very quiet voice. He was afraid. “We’re okay; how ’bout if Nathan rides first so that you can see for yourself how lovable Teva is?” I replied in a voice that I hoped would give him comfort.

Since Nathan had ridden before, I was a little surprised when he also was a bit hesitant. It was clear that the best thing to do was settle him in the saddle and just stand quiet for a moment. I invited Travis to come out into the arena and walk on the off side of Teva as I led her, just so that Nathan would feel “extra safe.”

It didn’t occur to me until several laps later, when Nathan was calling and waving to everyone that would wave back, that this truly was the perfect scenario for Jason to get to know his dad.

“Okay, now it’s Jason’s turn,” I announced from the arena as I helped a triumphant Nathan down the mounting block.

I watched as Jason made his way through the arena’s sand. His helmeted little head was down and his demeanor looked as if he had just been asked to “walk the plank.” Fear clung to him like his small, rumpled coat.

As I helped Jason climb to the top of the mounting block, I explained to him that he could step across onto the saddle when he felt like he was ready, and that all together we would
stand still for as long as he wished.

There, on the top of the mounting block, Jason stood as frozen as a statue.

I could only guess at what must have been going through his head. I wondered if within his mighty contemplation he was considering how much this paralleled his life … stepping out into the unfamiliar … to do the unthinkable … with the unknown.

Jason’s father was standing on the other side of the horse. Jason studied the saddle for some time … then looked across into the face of his father … and reached out.

Within that moment of catching his son, I am certain that Travis was intensely grateful for his sunglasses. While trying to balance on the high wire of what he needed to do … and what he wanted to do, Travis was nearly as stiff as a wooden soldier.

The thinly veiled emotion of everyone involved was beginning to crack.

To ease Jason’s fears, I asked him a barrage of simple questions. In no time he began to relax, and our trio set off to circle the arena.

As Jason became more confident, I rotated my attention to Travis. As with his son, I wished to relieve his tension by asking him easy questions about what he loved. After Travis had spoken freely about many things, it was as simple as a child’s game to “connect the dots.” “Wow! Travis likes to hike. Jason, I bet that you like to hike too! Travis thinks that swimming is pretty fun. Jason, what do you think? Do you like to swim?”

With tentative steps, father and son began to cross the newly forged bridge that lay between them. Slowly, they started speaking directly to each other.

As we came around by the arena gate, I looked into Travis’s
face and smiled. He understood my expression when I silently passed Teva’s lead rope to him and walked away. My arms prickled with anticipated hope as behind me … a gentle verbal “rainbow” was beginning to take shape. I could hear the first, soft-spoken bonds starting to form between a father and his boy.

After many laps together, punctuated with animated gestures, stories, and even a bit of muted laughter, Travis led Teva and Jason up to the fence where the rest of us had gathered. With Sandy and the older kids trotting raucous laps in the background, the case worker indicated to Brenda that she thought it was time … time for Jason to be told the truth about this new “friend” that he was beginning to trust.

With every step that Brenda took toward Jason, I could sense tension rising within all of the adults. So much was at risk. So much damage had already been done. Both father and son had already suffered so greatly. What would happen if Jason broke, if he refused to accept this “nice guy” as his father? Could this young father bear another moment of not embracing the lost son that inexcusable circumstances had stolen from him?

While sitting nearby on the arena fence, I felt like my chest was so brittle that if I took a breath, it might splinter into a million pieces. I could not begin to understand what Travis’s heart must have felt like.
Lord … we need Your help
 …

With undeniable courage, Brenda stopped on the opposite side of Teva. She took a deep breath and looked directly into Jason’s eyes. His expression began to change; he knew that something big was coming.

“Honey, I know that you understand that ‘Andy’ was your dad, and he took good care of you and your little sister. But
when your mom went away, Andy couldn’t take both of you because, you remember, he was not your birth dad. Before Andy, your mom knew another man and you were born. Then your mom knew Andy, and then your sister was born.”

Brenda paused for this gentle reminder to firm up within Jason’s memory. “Honey, remember earlier today when you met Travis? Do you remember looking at his eyes?” At this mention, Travis silently removed his sunglasses. “Jason, his eyes are blue and look just like your eyes …”

Jason turned and openly stared at Travis.

Travis’s shoulders were forward, his chin was low, his hands were in front of him literally “white knuckling” the lead rope. Everything about his posture was pleading for his son to accept him … as his father.

Jason turned back toward Brenda and with childlike innocence stated, “Andy’s eyes are also blue …” Brenda continued with gentle grace, “Yes, Andy’s eyes are a beautiful blue as well, and he loves you very much … but Travis’s eyes look like yours … because they
are
yours. You see, Andy is the dad who raised you, but Travis is the dad who
made
you. The same blood inside him is the same blood that is inside you.” Jason’s attempt to process this new information showed as his eyes slowly moved from staring at Travis’s face … to staring at the blood that pulsed within his wrists.

Brenda cautiously moved on. “Travis remembers you. He remembers holding you when you were a baby, and loving you very, very much. He has been looking for you for a long time … and now he has found you. Travis wants to keep on loving you … because he is your dad. Do you think that would be okay? Travis would like to come to
our house
and visit you. He loves you Jason … and he doesn’t ever want to lose you again.”

Jason continued to stare at Travis. Again, his small eyebrows came together as he fought to understand exactly who this nice man was that stood before him. Finally, Jason looked back toward Brenda with a surprisingly relaxed expression. Apparently, he had decided that everything she had shared was okay with him.

Brenda closed by saying, “Travis is the daddy who made you … and as you choose, he would like to become your friend. And when you are ready to choose him as your dad … Travis wants to become the daddy that will raise you. Honey, do you understand?”

Jason answered her question with a weak nod.

“Jason, do you want to have Travis lead you around the arena again so that you can talk?”

Jason’s expression softened slightly as he thought about this suggestion, and again he replied with a wordless nod.

I was in complete awe. Even though I have the privilege of observing it often, I am always completely amazed at the resilient heart of a child. It appeared as if the veil between them was, thread by thread, being torn in half. The film of uncertainty surrounding each of them was beginning to lift like a vapor.

A little boy abandoned … then fostered. Once an orphan … now a son. A child without family … takes the hand of his father. The boy once lost … was now found.

Truth and time … are like that. Combined together, they form a sieve that eventually sifts away all that is not genuine.

I watched in awe as together father and son circled the arena over … and over … and over. Like ruts in a familiar, well-traveled dirt road, each revolution seemed to further entrench the new truth growing between them. I could see that once again, as with their earlier laps around the arena, the animation, the stories, and
the soft laughter rose from their combined company.

Relief, joy, love, and “completeness” mulled together in a powerful combination, reflecting the desires of everyone on the ranch. All those present saw how the healing love of a foster family had become the literal stepping stone of reconciliation and support for time to
prove
what is true.

We all need to be needed, to be special to someone … to become part of a family. Watching father and son choose to become united inspired my own gratitude to rise on the wings of thanksgiving for the “family,” both blood and chosen, that God has provided in my life.

In a different way, in a different time, in a different voice … someone once did something similar for me—by reaching through what might have looked like impossible odds and inviting me to become part of their family … and it saved my life. The “baton” of parenthood had been passed within my life, and I was glad that I was able to be a small part of this “passing” for another.

The path of hoofprints leading around the arena seemed to become much more than just a symbolic reminder that within my heart also … a “full circle” had been made.