Monday, September 15

A birthday.....

Forty one years ago, in a little suburban hospital on Grand River Boulevard on the Farmington side, in the great state of Michigan, in the United States of America; a male child, the third of Sharon Lee Nitchie and Ronald Lawrence Hutson, was born. A story began that September day so long ago........

The story is still in process, still being written as you read this. The year that child was born was the year of the infamous Detroit City Riots, which erupted in one neighborhood and caused damage to almost half the city. Eleven years past the age when that child believed the life he led would end. Five years since that child found that the ache in his soul wasn't going to be filled by anyone other than Jesus Christ, the Holy Spirit, and God (Three-in-One), and a call was placed in his heart to serve God in ministry. Three years since the call led that child into a chapel as Senior Chaplain. Two years since that child finally started the stunted process of becoming a man.

When I entered the world, like most babies, I was disrupted…..the warmth and cocoon-like comfort of my mother's womb was violently and unavoidably disrupted as I entered a world of pain, discomfort, new sensations, and need. Most of the physical needs were met, but so many of the spiritual, mental, and psychological ones were partially met or not at all.

Much of my childhood is a slideshow of snapshots; a bee sting in my eye socket at the bus stop on Wormer that made me look like the elephant man and showed me I was allergic to bees. split green pea soup in a metal container on a stove; being given a bowl and shoved outside. Falling off the kitchen table and cutting my tongue; which led to the diagnosis of Epilepsy with Petite Mal seizures. Being forced to wear a diaper as punishment for 'having accidents' and having a picture taken to be displayed for family and friends. Crying myself to sleep on the front lawn of the house on Wormer because I had watched my father drive away from a broken marriage and home, thinking it was my fault because I was my father's son and due to my failure to measure up caused him to forsake the whole family.

Being left at the supermarket at the end of the street with a tert phone call to my father to come get us. Meeting a woman, all of five foot and a few inches, who I would call Mom for my entire life and who I considered to be a giant among giants. A new concept of a God, following His commandments, you could be worthy of blessings and eventually a spot in Heaven, some mystical place in the clouds.

Military Academy, on the basis of the recommendation of the psychologist at Hawthorne Center, who felt that the child was the 'black sheep' of the family and was capable of living outside the confines of the community where he lived for a few years. First Holy Child in Monroe, Michigan and then LeMans Academy outside of Rolling Prairie, Indiana.

A bicycle for my birthday, a failed paper route, another divorce and the breaking of the 'family four' when my older brother stood his ground and refused to move in with my father and his new girlfriend. My departure at 16, after a failed attempt at 15, and the history I lived for a few weeks with my birth mother.

A life lived trying to prove my father right when he said, "You'll never amount to more than a trash collector and that's if they take pity on you to give you the job."

A life that came to blessings as a heavenly Father I rejected as too harsh and distant rescued me time and time again from those events that should've killed me, as I hoped for so long.

A life that came to a moment in time when a gift was given as my earthly father said, "I was never disappointed in you" a week before he died from a massive heart attack.

A life spent trying to make things work under my own abilities and failing; sometimes through design (my own) and most of the time because my own strength and abilities weren't enough for the situations I led myself into.

A life that came to a moment in time when my son was born, and the frantic promises of a father who was overwhelmed (he was thirty-three weeks, right at the edge of sustainable life the docs said). A promise made by a father who felt he wasn't capable of being a dad, much less a father.

A life that ended on a February Sunday, the 14th, when the child heard the call of his Father, "Don't you think its time to come home?" and was redeemed, restored, and immediately put into training for the purpose to which it had been designed and assigned.

A life that was told in a story with a bunch of other men in the Canadian 'wilderness' because one man stood in that place with him and called him to deeper life in the Savior we both claimed.

A life that was affirmed and attested by those men who saw a strength designed by the Creator's own hand and a leadership ability shaped by the journey taken.

A life that realized that living as a man of God requires God, for movement in fear is impossible without a strength that comes from the Creator's hand.

A life that began movement despite the realistic fear of losing all that was grasped, because the child becoming a man realized that to hold what is dear requires releasing it into the Father's hands from whence all of it came.

Now, at forty-one years into this journey that God has set my feet upon...always journeying with me even when I refused to look in His direction and listen to His voice calling me away from the mistakes, choices, and poor judgments made by my own choice....I stand and look back upon the journey so far, without anguish or apology (for those that were needed were given) and see the shaping of my Father and my father's hands.

I have realized forgiveness because I have learned to give forgiveness; even if it wasn't received. I have forgiven my father for what went wrong and what he was responsible for because my Heavenly Father has forgiven me my wrongs, my sinful denials of His design. I can celebrate the great things that my father passed on to me and mourn the things that weren't as great that were a result of wounds he himself carried.

I can feel the love unspoken and see the gems of my childhood; the dog my father brought home because the kids so desperately wanted one, the time at the dining room table when he showed me the 38 he carried for his job and the wisdom he imparted about handguns. My grandmother, now passed, who would always ask if I was Ron on the phone because I sound and look like my father. My father sitting in the stands at the parade grounds at the Great Lakes Recruit Training Center, where he himself went for basic, and celebrating his son's 'graduation' from training recruit to sailor in the greatest navy ever known.

Those things, I want to pass on to my son and a daughter; a blessing from a grandfather unfortunately they never knew.

And, as I had started life so long ago now, as a disrupted baby boy....I carry on with being a disrupted man.......moving in fear and trusting by faith in my Heavenly Father when He made the claim;

"You are My Beloved Son."

Even though I still fail, still fall short, and struggle against the sinful old nature that once 'defined' who I was.....

Where I once sorrowed over struggles, I rejoice because God is glorified either in His movement within them, or my honoring Him in the midst of them.

Where I once struggled with my own strength, I realize in my weakness God moves with His strength.

Where once I prayed that God would let me end this life I was forced to live, I pray that God will give me more time to pursue Him through the struggles, chaos, and disruption so that I may be His light, His vision, and His warrior for the sake of those men battered by life, bruised by heartache, and living a life cocooned in a false sense of safety.

To answer the 'silence of Adam' with a heartfelt, spirit-driven yell of a warrior in God's Army;

Calling all men to battle.........

for their wives,

for their children,

for their communities,


Warriors who will stand with the beauty and order of God's created at their backs and face the chaos and darkness with swords at the ready and shields interlocked with other men.........

and tell the fallen one, Lucifer, that he shall NOT pass.

Laughing with the joy that comes from knowing the peace of their Heavenly Father, and living the purpose to which men were designed, as they face a chaotic and broken world.

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