No Less Than Greatness: Finding Perfect Love In Imperfect Relationships

A Case of Mistaken Identity At first, I was reluctant to show Michael my engagement ring. This eleven-year-old kid with a snarl on his face where a smile should have been, my future husband's son, didn't care for me particularly. Ed had called Michael after dinner on Valentine's Day, right after he asked me to marry him, and Michael had responded to our news with uncharacteristic calm: "Congratulations. That's fine." Then he added, "Just don't expect me to come to the wedding." Ed replied that he really wanted Michael with us on such an important day and would be very sad without him, but the boy had to make his own choices. Soon, the polite tones gave way to pleading and tirades and yelling and name-calling and after about two hours, father and son hung up, hoarse and exhausted. Then Ed cried, I cried, and, as I found out later, Michael cried. Not a particularly auspicious beginning to this new chapter of my life, especially when I had some doubts of my own. I was forty-four years old, divorced after twenty-six years of marriage and with a burgeoning international ministry to run. I was uncertain about taking on a new role as a stepmother, having almost finished raising four children of my own. My youngest was sixteen. Ed had a second son, Matthew, who was, thankfully, easy to please, but he was only six years old. God, I asked, do you really intend to send me backward ten years? My identity, or so I believed, was as a minister and the mother of grown children, not as a car-pool captain worried about the high cost of orthodontics. Besides, I'd been so sweet to this difficult child, even holding my tongue when he swore at the dinner table, something I'd never have tolerated from my own children. I smiled all the time. I smiled so much my face hurt. My face hurt because a phony smile contorts our identity, and being untrue to ourselves causes pain. Often we lose our identity trying to please or placate others. We lose sight of who we are while trying to mesh our lives with those around us. We compromise our values and beliefs to make others happy or simply to avoid conflict. But when we dance around others or put on masks and costumes, we cannot achieve the clear and honest relationships that open the way to love. Once, Ed dropped Michael off with me for the weekend so that his son could get to know my youngest son and me better. Michael stood in the front doorway, shoulders hunched, eyes downcast, as if weighted down by his backpack. He had his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans, and I had my left hand clasped in my right, as if in silent prayer. (The truth is I was covering my diamond for fear that it would catch the late-afternoon light and shine in Michael's eyes like a beacon of bad news.) I'd have done just about anything to avoid making that kid angry at me. He finally pulled his hands out of his pockets to wave good-bye to his dad. Then Michael turned toward his future stepmother. "Let's see it," he said, looking me in the eye for once. I slowly unclasped my hands, holding out my left, as if for inspection. The single carat that had only hours earlier seemed subtly charming in its simplicity now looked showy and gaudy. Michael grasped my wrist with his left hand and began tugging at the ring with his right. Instinctively, I curled my finger. "What are you doing?" I asked. "Trying to pull it off," he responded, still tugging. "And what would you do if you could?" I asked, momentarily grateful that Ed had bought a ring one size too small. "Toss it down the disposal," he answered. Then he dropped my hand and without another word crossed over to the family room, where he plunkedMorrissey, Mary Manin is the author of 'No Less Than Greatness: Finding Perfect Love In Imperfect Relationships' with ISBN 9780553106534 and ISBN 0553106538.