Just recently, I opened up a message from a photo storage site that encouraged me to look at some photos from 10 years ago, memories of a time long past. When I clicked the link, and the pictures popped up, and I looked at them, I realized that they were from a family trip that we took together several years ago that I had just written about in a memoir that I'm writing. The focus of the chapter was "Seeing the Prodigal", about our familiy visit we made to see our son, Michael, while he was away at a therapeutic boarding school in 2005. I thought I'd share the chapter here and take this opportunity to promote my son's poetry book that includes some of the poems in this chapter. Enjoy!
The Girls from Santiago
When you think you’re escaping
You find the longest way around, is the shortest way home
But, we’ve slain giants and seen the ghosts of old men
Who have found their way back to the start again?
When love learns to love, we’ve learned to love, love
I wanna take ya down to the fountains of truth
So we can bathe in the fountains of truth once again
When love learns to love, we’ve learned to love, love
I see our ambitions flying away
Like the pictures in the scrapbooks of our yesterday
Because my love learned to love when love was just a fool
When love learns to love, it learns to love, love
I remember the mountain air and putting flowers in your hair
Just like the girls in Santiago used to do
On our way to the oceans of many days and we pass them all through ourselves.
So hold fast to now
Through which the future plunges
Like an arrow straight through me and you
Let me be who you would be
When love learned to love, it learned to love, love
JJ 2019
Seeing the Prodigal
From my journal:
March 22, 2005
A prayer,
Thank you Lord…for watching over my son, Mike, for helping us (Doug and I) to see more clearly where we needed to be as parents, for the resolving of financial issues so that we have enough to cover all the costs…
It’s so hard to trust, but we have been blessed and we are grateful for your presence in our lives…and for keeping your hand on Mike.
Stay with me, Lord, as I prepare for our trip…bring us safely together as a family. Be present in our time together…in the love we share and the bonds of family. Move all of us, Lord, to be aware of your presence in our lives, Matt, Michelle, Mike, my special children, now adults…Help me to give them to you daily for their lives are not my own and I must let go.
And I do…I go now to face the day! Thank you! AMEN
The day had finally come. We were leaving to head to Santiago, Dominican Republic, for our family vacation together. Four of us were together, all of the arrangements made, tickets in hand, luggage packed, yet anxiety flooded me that morning and in the days prior to our leaving for our much anticipated “family visit” with Michael. As was typical for me, I was full of excitement for our visit and our time together as a family. I tried so hard not to put any expectations on it at all, but with 5 different people traveling together, weather, time physical needs and wants…vacation always brings out the best and the worst in our family. My expectations for family trips had always been, “We should try to enjoy our time together.” Invariably things were never that simple. I wanted to be there as a mom to all of my kids on this trip, to be a person, a friend, and a parent. I desperately wanted to let go of my concern about all of their “comings and goings” and my need to control each of them as a mom. I said a desperate prayer thanking God in advance for staying close and helping me to avoid holding negative and unnecessary thoughts in my mind and to let God take them from me every single day, especially on this trip. In spite of my prayers and desperation, the tension began to grow in my shoulders and neck and present itself as pain. The mantra I kept on repeat in my brain, whatever, whatever, Lord, whatever. I just wanted so much to just focus on the small gifts of being alive and being together.
The sun was shining brightly and the air was cool as I sat on the balcony at our hotel in Jarabacoa, Dominican Republic. It doesn’t do my feelings justice to say that I felt “ off center” that morning. I wanted to be truly present and not guarded when I saw my son that day. I actually wrote in my journal that for once “I don’t feel the sick dread of seeing Mike…I am anticipating it with joy!” All of my “chicks were in the nest “ and I was about to see a son I thought I had lost. And even though my neck and shoulder were still acting up, an impending celebration was definitely on my mind.
The drive into town and to the school in the taxi they had arranged for us was interesting. Although I do speak Spanish, and consider myself to be fairly fluent, the particular accent in the Dominican Republic was totally different than what I was used to. The taxi driver understood me completely but I sat there guessing at half of what he was saying to me. There was a rifle sitting right between us on the center console of the van that was quite unsettling to me, although, perhaps I ought to have been thankful to be “protected”. We drove down and around fairly winding gravel roads and up hills until we finally came upon a gated area with yes, an armed guard watching and opening the gate. They were expecting us. The taxi pulled forward toward one of the buildings and we got out of the car and looked around at the school grounds, with blooming flowers, trees and bushes everywhere. The campus of the school was beautiful with a large center building, the chapel, adorned with beautiful blue stained glass windows. The sun was streaming down upon us so brightly as I looked around. Suddenly I heard his voice calling, “Hey Mom, hey Dad!” as he ran as fast as I’ve ever seen him run down the hill from his house, arms spread out wide, straight into my arms. He gave me the biggest hug I have ever received. I broke away from him, briefly, to look into his eyes and I saw a young man that I hardly recognized! It felt so good to see him and to see his face and the joy he had in seeing us, in hugging his dad and his siblings. I know there were tears in my eyes at that moment, and tears were close to the surface all that day. It felt surreal and beautiful and I felt that my son was truly with us…truly present.
 |
| Matt near the chapel at Escuela Caribe. |
We met briefly with Mike’s housefather and with one or two of the members of the Escuela Caribe staff. We didn’t spend a great deal of time with anyone that day. They gave us a few restrictions about what Mike was allowed to do on our visit, but it was fairly simple. We were instructed with all the information we needed about the resort we were going to. After a short tour of the campus, we were permitted to take Mike and go enjoy our time together. The taxi driver had waited for us, as he was to take us back to our hotel in Jarabacoa. Mike had a different plan.
Mike really wanted to show us the beautiful waterfalls that were nearby and so I asked the driver if he could take us there and wait for us as we hiked to the waterfalls. He agreed and actually hiked with us that afternoon; perhaps he felt responsible for us, I’m not sure. I was uneasy about leaving my bag in the car unsupervised, so I headed off on this hike carrying a heavy satchel, which wasn’t good for my sore, tension riddled shoulder and neck, but I persevered!
We began to follow Mike up a path that was questionable, pushing back branches and stepping carefully to avoid tripping on roots that were beneath large green leaves on the ground. The cool morning had turned quickly into a hot, muggy afternoon! The path we were walking, rather, climbing, was going up and up quite steeply as we continued. Mike kept promising that it wasn’t much further and I silently cursed the heavy bag that I repeatedly switched from one sore shoulder to the other. Doug actually carried it for a while to give me a break. Finally we began to hear the sound of rushing water in the background and Mike yelled back towards us, “We’re almost there!” I could almost feel the breeze cooling me off from the mist of the cold mountain stream that we hadn’t yet seen.
Quickly we turned on a more worn path towards the right and there in front of us was an amazing sight. Up ahead on the path was an opening in the trees where the rocks jutted up from the ground like a giant cliff with clear powerful water spilling down from the top. We had arrived and it was awe-inspiring! Walking carefully across large rocks and smaller rocks, with water swirling all around and underneath us, we finally landed on a group of large boulders that were in the middle of all that rushing cold water. Matt and Mike wasted no time in taking off their shirts and shoes and jumping into the frigid mountain water. Michelle, Doug and I were more tentative, taking off our shoes and dipping our toes in cautiously, letting the water cool us down slowly. Michelle actually jumped into the cold water too, going only in waist deep and staying clear of her splashing brothers! I began to relax finally, with my bag off of my shoulders, as I watched my boys playing in the water together. Their laughter and screeching at each other made me laugh with joy at the sight. As they waded closer to the waterfall they splashed the water all over their bodies, laughing with happiness and fresh spirits. The water was cold, but my heart had been warmed watching them together. I reminded myself that this was what I was longing for. I had witnessed a baptism of sorts in the waters of that cold mountain stream.
 |
| Mike leading us up to the waterfalls. |
 |
| A baptism of sorts in the frigid water. |
I’m not sure how long we actually stayed there, but a decent amount of time had passed and we finally headed back down the mountainside towards the taxi. The driver had walked with us the whole way and laughed with me at my children’s antics in the water. He was surely going to receive a good tip for staying with us that whole time. Once in the car, damp, but happy, we headed back into town towards our hotel. The next day we were scheduled to leave for an all-inclusive resort in Puerta Plata to spend five days together on the beach.
In the morning we were greeted early by the hotel office calling to let us know that our ride was there for our trip to Puerta Plata. We had a different taxi driver that day, one who had taken many students and their families safely across the island of the Dominican Republic to an all-inclusive resort. The drive was about 3 hours of rough roads, motorcycles and scooters honking and zigzagging around us as we drove through the towns and the countryside. I was feeling so shell-shocked to see just how poor this country was. There were many brightly painted “shelters” which were homes, all around and close to the road, where the Dominicans lived and worked. Mike told us that the workers in the sugar cane fields were only paid about one dollar per day for their hard work. You could see homes where there was one TV sitting practically outside or on a front porch that was called the “movie theater”(El cine). That is where the neighbors would all congregate to watch television together. It was evident that there was a great deal of poverty all around us. Chickens and goats were running around all about and we could see many shops along the road selling beverages or snacks. It was an interesting drive. I worked on listening to the driver’s Spanish, trying to figure out what he was saying and translating for my husband. After the 3 hour trip, I was understanding most of what he was saying!
During the trip, Mike had his first chance to listen to secular music using Matt’s iPod and headphones. He got so emotional listening to Matt’s recently released music that he actually got tears in his eyes. I felt so sad that he hadn’t been able to listen to music. At Escuela Caribe, they could only listen to Christian music once they attained a certain level in their point system. Mike had gone 8 months without listening to anything else and was extremely happy to be able to listen freely for a few days. This was hard for me to watch because I knew that music was his passion and that our decision had taken that one thing from him while he was here. I knew, too, that he had a great deal of love and admiration for his brother in the sharing of music together. The few days we were together were a chance for them to do that. We were able to bring Mike’s guitar with us on this trip so he was finally able to play and practice a little for a few days. I just hoped that it would motivate him to work hard at moving up the levels so he could have more freedom. Just as soon as I had that “thought” though, I realized that it wasn’t up to me. Just staying in the “moment” was a challenge for me.
The all-inclusive hotel was extraordinary. Everything was beautiful outside and in. There were multiple restaurants, manicured grounds, swimming pools and a long stretch of private beach. Palm trees and flowers were everywhere. In spite of the luxury around us, I was still on edge. It was stressful having Mike with us after all those months. Trying too hard to be relaxed feels forced and uncomfortable. That was how I felt the majority of the time. I still carried in my shoulders all the doubts and fears that I had tried so very hard to let go of during the 8 months we had been apart. My trust in Mike was low and I felt that constant need to be super-vigilant. I was constantly giving all of my feelings and lack of trust to God each and every day!
One day our son, Matt, came back from making a phone call and said that some Dominican woman had stopped him on the sidewalk and said in Spanish, “Jesucristo, salve mi vida! (Jesus Christ, save my life!) Matt had shoulder length brown hair, and a full beard and mustache, and when we thought about it, it made perfect sense! He did look like a potential Jesus! We all had a good laugh about it and the very next day the beard and mustache were gone! I kept remembering the image in my mind of the boys splashing each other in the waterfall and it finally made sense why I had thought of it as a “baptism” then.
 |
| Matt (aka Jesucristo). |
Our time together as a family had its special and beautiful moments of laughter and peace and joy in each other’s company. When those moments came I was highly aware of them and tried to let go and enjoy. I think I was able to. One night at dinner we began making “Mehlan Music” by squeaking the rims of our water glasses in the restaurant. The music was eerie and other worldly, but it was, in its own way, beautiful and special. Mike would serenade us on the guitar every evening. We played board games together, the kids being very competitive with each other at every turn.
The days on the beach were glorious and there was so much to do. Michelle and I enjoyed the bright sun and sandy beach. It was hard to believe that we were in a country that was riddled with extreme poverty, yet on the other side of a large stone wall, the resort was so luxurious. The boys took a Hobie-Cat out on the water and sailed. We snorkeled around the reef, enjoyed cocktails and a fabulous Caribbean meal at one of the included restaurants. We walked down the shoreline to visit one of the tents along the beach where they would braid your hair and put beads on the ends. All of the kids had it done and it was so funny to see Mike with his buzz cut and a few beads sticking out of the side of his head! I had a few put in my hair as well. That was a particularly fun day in this little slice of paradise.
Mike and I had a long talk on the last evening of our trip. The truth came out about how much he was still struggling in many ways with his emotions and his moods. He made it clear to me that he didn’t enjoy or appreciate the strict discipline of the program. He said he was “afraid” of his housefather. He said he wanted to know when he could come home. He wanted a definite time frame, but I had to tell him that I really didn’t know. His dad and I were listening to the counselors and others at Escuela Caribe. We were listening to their advice. I encouraged him to work hard, follow the rules, and move up in the leveled system and wait and see. He wasn’t too happy with that, but as I said to him, “It is what it is.”
Later I reflected on our talk in my journal, and I remarked at how much progress he had made so far. I was very thankful for that. He struggled with the intense structure of the program, the lack of free time to meditate, reflect and relate on an emotional level to people he cared about in the program, other kids and other adults. He was just Mike, the real Mike, opening up his heart to his mom, but also struggling some with control and faith. I thanked God for the small positive changes, and asked again for him to keep a close hand on my son.
From my journal:
April 3, 2005
I cannot sleep anymore today, God! I am full of love and peace and joy at the gifts you have given to us. This is a beautiful place…this has been an amazing trip.
I believe I do understand the story of the prodigal son and I rejoice that my son is alive! He once was gone to me and I grieved for him…the loss and the pain were great! But you are faithful in your promises and now I truly have hope for the future.
But I see Lord, too, that the future is in your hands, not mine…and that you will complete your work in him…in your time and in your ways.
All I can say is THANK YOU!
For your love
For your blessing
For your power
For the Holy Spirit in our lives.
The Story of the Prodigal
Luke 15:11-32
“…But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him.
21 “The son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’
22 “But the father said to his servants, ‘Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. 23 Bring the fattened calf and kill it. Let’s have a feast and celebrate. 24 For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.' So they began to celebrate.” Luke 15: 20 NIV
I LOVED YOU FIRST
You know I said once before, you know I’ll say it again.
I know they’re just words, but I’ll say it again.
But you know I loved you first.
For what it’s worth, I never left but I heard, I’ve tried so hard so I say it again, every day.
But I don’t know if it’s true but I’ll say it again.
I loved you first.
I see your secrets on your face; I want you to learn, like I’ve learned.
As you get older I see it in your bones, but I loved you first.
And I know the world, it hurts.
I throw down while you nurse.
But even though, even though while I wait.
The dream of the moment has burst.
And I hope beyond hopes that you learn just to thirst.
But remember I loved you first.
JJ stands for “Jolly Jackson”, a pen name chosen by my son, Michael Mohr Mehlan, and is used as his Facebook name, pen name and stage name to identify himself in a new way and to signify his break from the past. Excerpts of poetry are from his new book:
Jolly for Now? Rainbows, Unicorns and Devils, by Jolly Jackson, copyright 2020, available on
Amazon
Poetry from this collection is notated with a “JJ” for Jolly Jackson and these poems were mostly written during 2019-20. Permission to use these poems was given directly by the author for publication in this collaborative work.
All sections of this publication written in italics were copied directly from journals the author kept during the actual time of the events spoken about.
