Darling Sylvia,   Bluebonnets, Mariposa Lilies, Indian Paintbrush and Starry-Eyed Grass welcomed us back to a Texas spring.  We had made a mistake in our flight plans and found ourselves at Love Field rather than DFW.  As we exited Love in our economy rental car, we were dumped onto Mockingbird Lane.  The familiar name of the road triggered two very different sets of memories.

I thought of being fired at Mobil. Dallas was 41 years ago, and the events of the summer of 1977 traumatized our early years.  The gritty gray industrial flavor of Mockingbird Lane brought back my memories of my failure and the guilt of losing a job that put my young family at risk.

You, on the other hand, thought of our home on Willow Crest Lane.  It was where you nursed and weaned our Nate.  It was a beautiful house and a hopeful time in our life.  We were making a lovely home.  Your dad had given his seal of approval.  He wrote to you that I had said we would be back in the States by Christmas, and we were.  He could trust that I was a man of action and could care for you. We bought the house in the springtime.

We used the Navigator to find our home.  The house and yard were smaller than they were in 1977.  We had to sell seven months after buying.  I had been fired, lost a home, and made the future scary.  In our need, we reached out for help to Charlie Standifer,  our Methodist pastor.  He patiently listened to our pain and then calmed us by telling us the truth,  “Listen guys. It sounds like you both love the Lord, each other, your children and have between you five college degrees. You just need a job.” 

At Baylor, we met with our Better Marriages family.  Among the conference attendees were young Masters Degree Social Work Students. They were pretty babies with so much to learn about life ahead of them.  Reflected in their faces were the kids we once were.  In my mind, our pair was as vivid as the bluebonnets.

We had our dialogue, and we forgave the kids we were for the mistakes we made and the ways we hurt each other so long ago.Thank you for forgiving the child I was, and for helping me become the man I am today.

Love you – Eddie Bert