By Courtney Lindberg, Arborbrook Financial
I made a lot of bad decisions as a teenager. I neglected my education, many of my friends were not the best, and I was increasingly disrespectful to my parents. In hindsight, we see things clearer. I didn’t see then that their breaking marriage was breaking me.
Then, and for many years following, I blamed my father for anything wrong in my life. Over the years, I realized that my mother wasn’t perfect either, her compassion while being a great strength, often found its fault as it bailed me out again and again.
My father had been the disciplinarian. She was my key out of prison. He locked me up. She set me free. And round and round it went. It’s not hard to see why as a teenager I sided with mom.
In my 20’s, those bad decisions led me halfway across the country, shacked up with two ex-girlfriends, $20,000 in debt, working six days a week, yet somehow never having enough. I didn’t give much thought to my spending until the week rent was due, always scrambling to find a way to pay. I was never ahead. I was always chasing. Worst case scenario, I could call mom. She’d bail me out. Worst case happened. My job was letting me go.
My life was a mess.
When I called for my bailout, I could hear the struggle in her voice. I didn’t understand what was happening, but she chose not to help me. At least I saw it that way. I hadn’t spoken with my father for some time. I had no intention of calling him, so I was certainly surprised when he called me. I answered the phone, ready to receive his judgment, but it never came. Instead, my father came to my rescue. He paid for it all, but I had to come home, to him.
Had the roles suddenly changed? Or had I been seeing it wrong all these years? Was this man I saw as judge and executioner actually a father that longed for his child? Maybe it was the shock or maybe it was something else, a quiet voice inside me leading me to my father. That Spring, I found myself setting up my bedroom in his home.
The time that followed was at times excruciating. Truths came out, words I wish I could take back, and with the grace of God, forgiveness. My mother’s compassion had led me to my father and reconciliation. It is a debt I will never be able to repay. Only three years, days before Christmas, I lost my dad to Pulmonary Fibrosis. I held him in my arms as he went home to his Father.
I would have never found my dad, if it hadn’t been for my mom. I wouldn’t have gotten my life together, discovered a desire for finance, or become the man I am today if it hadn’t of been for my dad. In it all, I discovered that everything in life comes back to relationships. It’s built my life and now helps build a business to help others see the same.
Thanks, Mom.
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