Going Home

     There was a time, during the summer, when my husband and I made the trip back to Michigan to visit my Mom, my sister, and her husband. Summer was best, because we weren't teaching, and our kids were on summer break. Those visits were always so great, catching up on the news, and just spending time together with family we didn't see very often. There was always some special time for my Mom and I to talk privately.
     On one of our visits, I told Mom about the retired minister and his wife that J___ and I were helping. And I spoke enthusiastically about the private Bible study that E___ was leading for me... just me. I told her it was held in his home, which was the best place since he couldn't get around so well any more.
     Mom looked up, concern on her face, and asked, "Just you?"
     "Yes," I told her, "and it's so interesting." But I felt a bit uncomfortable as she looked at me.
      "You're the only one there?" she questioned, little frown lines appearing on her brow.
      "Yes, and it works out just fine. G___ usually runs some errands while we study. It's such a small house... she doesn't want to disturb us, or get it the way."
     Now my Mom always had a strong sense of what was proper and what wasn't. And she was definitely uneasy about the place where the lessons were being taught. But she wasn't talking to a child anymore... I was all grown up. She didn't say more, but I saw the disapproval in her posture, and her face. She did not think this was the best place for Bible study.
     "It's OK Mom. And he makes the lessons so interesting. I'm learning a lot." And I felt like I wasn't telling her the whole story.
     The totally positive account I gave her was the start of a whole bunch of lies that kept her in the dark. And after that, every time we talked about the Bible study, the guilt and shame of what was happening in that little house would wash over me.