It is since Christians have largely ceased to think of the other world that they have become so ineffective in this. Aim at heaven and you will get earth thrown in; aim at earth and you will get neither.
C. S. Lewis
One of the ways to begin helping people who don’t want help, as we’ve already seen, is developing a relationship they value. At times, however, that very relationship must be risked. Perhaps no place is this more painful than within the pastor’s own family.
No matter how solid their relationship with their children, most parents still feel a tremor of anxiety as a son or daughter leaves the nest. What kinds of choices will he or she make? What if those choices are foolish or self-destructive? What if the young people need help to avoid a terrible mistake but don’t want help — or don’t have the strength to accept it? The years after high school can be a time of awkward transition — a twilight world between accountability and independence.
What follows is the story of one family that agonized over that tension. Not all pastoral families would choose to handle this situation the same way. But this family’s story holds some vital clues for others in similar situations.
Bill and Maryann Harris had worked hard over the years to show their children that being raised in a pastor’s home not only meant certain responsibilities, like being a perennial example in the youth ministry, but also afforded some privileges, like enjoying a privileged relationship with the church’s guest speakers and visiting missionaries.
Their two oldest children apparently enjoyed life in the parsonage. After going to college on a football scholarship, Martin went to seminary and became a church planter, and Brenda attended a Christian college and joined the staff of an inner-city youth ministry. While both were confident, capable workers, neither was quite as strong-willed as the youngest, Caryl.
Through her high school years, Bill and Maryann considered Caryl’s self-confidence one of her greatest virtues. Her standards were high. She didn’t want to limit herself to dating one guy. “I don’t want to be seen as anyone’s ‘property,'” she would say. She enjoyed going out with a guy from church one night and a guy from school the next night — “double dating,” she called it.
Maryann and Caryl often talked about the guys Caryl was seeing. “Some of the girls at school have to sneak out to see their boyfriends,” Caryl said. “I wouldn’t want to date anyone I wasn’t proud to bring home to meet my folks.”
After high school, since Caryl enjoyed making her own clothes, she decided to attend a school that offered courses in fashion design. She enrolled at a State university two hours from home. It was far enough to afford some independence but close enough to allow visits home once a month. In addition, during her first year, Caryl would call home every week with another story about dorm life. She especially enjoyed telling about her attempts to be a Christian in a secular setting.
One night she reported the following conversation with two of the guys on her floor, Mitch and Tony, who had come to her room.
“Is it true what we hear — that you don’t drink alcohol?” they asked.
“It is,” said Caryl.
“You mean you’ve never had a beer or a glass of wine?”
“I don’t even drink Nyquil!” Caryl laughed.
“I can’t believe it!” Tony said.
“I’ve never met anyone who hasn’t had a drink,” said Mitch. “We’ll have to change that!”
“Why?” Caryl countered. “You have all kinds of friends who drink. Wouldn’t you like to have one friend who doesn’t? After all, wouldn’t it be nice to have someone who can drive straight after a party?”
Before they went back to their own room, the guys had admitted she had a point.
Bill and Maryann enjoyed the story. They encouraged Caryl to keep trying to fit in without violating her standards.
“A campus is a tough place to be ‘in the world but not of the world,'” Bill told Maryann after putting the phone down. “But it sounds like Caryl’s doing a pretty good job.”
Caryl met with some Christians in her dorm once a week for breakfast, Bible study, and prayer. She also attended a Tuesday night Bible study for college students at the Baptist church near the campus.
Bill and Maryann suspected nothing unusual, then, when Caryl called one week during her sophomore year to say that “a couple of guys in the dorm are in love with me.”
“They’ve already sent me a dozen roses and a box of chocolates,” she said with her characteristic laugh. “I marched down the hall and gave them back the chocolates. I told them my figure couldn’t handle the calories, but I did appreciate the flowers — they weren’t fattening.”
“Which guys were they?” Maryann asked.
“Mitch and Tony.”
“Isn’t that an unusual gift for them to give you?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Caryl. “We’ve got a pretty close group here on the floor. It’s sort of nice; it’s been a while since any guys have shown a special interest in me. Maybe I’ve been spending too much time in the library.” She laughed. “Don’t worry, Mom. They’re harmless.”
Over the next few weeks, Bill and Maryann kept hearing more and more about Tony and Mitch, especially Mitch. Caryl reported on conversations they had at supper. She mentioned that Mitch offered to walk her home from Tuesday night Bible study.
“Mitch is in the Bible study, too?” Maryann asked.
“No, I invited him, but he says he’s not the ‘religious’ type,” Caryl replied. “He just doesn’t think I should be walking across campus alone at night. Besides, he’s usually coming back from the library, so it’s not out of his way. I appreciate the company.”
Whenever Caryl went to football games or out for pizza, Bill and Maryann noticed, Mitch’s name was usually mentioned as part of the group.
During Christmas break while Caryl was home, the university’s basketball team was playing a local college. Mitch was in town to see the game and invited Caryl to go with him. “I’m not all that keen on going with Mitch,” she told her mom, “but since I’ve met some of the basketball players at school, I do enjoy seeing them play.”
When Mitch came to pick her up, Bill and Maryann met him for the first time. Bill’s first impression was that Mitch’s West Texas accent made him sound almost a hayseed. His boots and Stetson added to the image. Mitch was a pre-veterinary student, and he seemed friendly enough, asking, “Should I get Caryl back any time in particular?”
“I appreciate you asking,” said Bill. “Just keep it reasonable.”
After Mitch and Caryl had left for the game, Bill told Maryann, “He seems like a nice guy, but hardly Caryl’s type. They’re from totally different backgrounds. She says he gets good grades, but you’d never know it by listening to him.”
That night after Mitch brought her home, Caryl told Maryann, “We had a good time. Mitch really knows basketball, and he explains the strategy real well. And afterward, since Mitch knows all the players, we went out to eat with them. I felt like an ‘insider.’ I do wish he hadn’t ordered his beer; I don’t usually go out with guys who drink, but he’s a sharp guy and maybe I can be a good influence on him. He could use a Christian friend. He said one of the reasons he likes me is because I have strong moral standards.”
In the weeks that followed, the Harrises heard more and more about Mitch — about the new Ford pickup he drove, about his dreams of establishing his own veterinary hospital, about the times he took Caryl to cattle and horse shows. “I only wish he’d clean up his language,” said Caryl.
Bill and Maryann didn’t say much about the budding friendship until one day Caryl mentioned that Mitch teased her a lot about going to the Bible study. He called Christians “the Great Pretenders,” suggesting they live in a make-believe world. Caryl said, “I told him that wasn’t true, that I was a Christian who tried to keep her feet on the ground.” Mitch’s response was “Well, you’re OK, but all the guys at that Bible study are flyweights.”
“I didn’t have an answer for that,” Caryl said. “I had to admit none of the guys in the fellowship are real sharp.”
“It’s too bad he can’t meet some of the Christian athletes who’ve spoken at our church,” Maryann said.
“Yeah,” said Caryl, somewhat absently.
“He’s not out to undermine your faith, is he?” Maryann asked.
“Oh, Mom, don’t be paranoid,” Caryl said. But for the first time, Maryann felt a flutter in her stomach.
When Caryl told her parents that Mitch continued to try to get her to go drinking with him, Bill and Maryann suggested that maybe Mitch wasn’t the friend he seemed to be. “If he knows your standards, why does he keep trying to get you to change them?” Caryl didn’t have an answer.
Apparently, she mentioned to Mitch that her parents were not overjoyed with their friendship. The next time she called she managed to work into the conversation that “Mitch was asking me if I felt restricted growing up in a preacher’s home, if my parents always chose my friends for me. He told me his parents gave him a free rein.” Bill and Maryann chose not to debate the issue, feeling that they didn’t need to defend their approach to parenting.
In February, Bill got an invitation to preach at the Baptist church next to the university, and Caryl brought several of her dorm friends, including Mitch, to hear him. Mitch seemed relaxed during the service, but afterward Caryl said, “Mitch was pretty uncomfortable. He had never attended anything but an occasional Mass before, and he didn’t even tell his folks he was coming with me today.” All of them were encouraged that at least he came. But the experience seemed only to prompt increased antagonism from Mitch.
“I don’t see why you go to that church,” he told Caryl. “They’re so narrow. They take their religion too seriously.”
“It is important to us,” said Caryl. “But that doesn’t mean we’re fanatics. We enjoy life, too. We just want to enjoy all of life, including spiritual life now and eternal life in heaven.”
“But it’s different from the way I was raised,” he said. “We’re religious, too, but we party and have a good time. And my parents don’t continue to try to control my life.”
When they heard about that, Bill and Maryann began to fear that Mitch was not only attacking Caryl’s faith, but also trying to sabotage her relationship with them. “But maybe we are being paranoid,” Maryann said. “She does have to grow up.” Bill remained silent.
What they both did notice, however, was that when Caryl called home, she wouldn’t mention Mitch unless she was asked, and even then, Bill and Maryann got the impression she didn’t want to talk about him — a definite change from a month before.
During spring break, Caryl came home for the week, and Mitch stopped by one night to take her out. When they returned, around 3 a.m., Mitch’s loud good-bye — spinning tires and a blast on the horn of his pickup — woke Maryann. She slipped on her robe and went downstairs.
“Sorry about the noise, Mom,” Caryl said, laughing nervously. “Mitch is a little rowdy at times.”
“How was your evening?”
“We had a good time.”
“I’m glad. Where did you go?” Maryann asked, trying not to appear the inquisitor.
“We saw a movie, and then went out to, uh, a place to eat.”
“A place I should go sometime?”
“If you must know, Mom, it was The Fiddlestring. It’s a country music place that Mitch really likes. He likes to two-step. It’s fun.”
“I thought you had to be twenty-one to go there.”
“You’re supposed to be, but they didn’t check our I.D.’s”
Maryann decided to wait until morning to say anything more.
At breakfast, Bill and Maryann pointed out that Caryl had changed considerably from the time when she took pride in being the only one in the dorm who didn’t drink, to now, when she was defending Mitch for taking her to a bar, even though she was under age.
“I didn’t drink. I just went to dance,” she said.
“Seems to me it’s living a lie just being there,” said Bill. “And I don’t like you riding with Mitch after he’s been drinking. You used to look down on the kids in high school who snuck off to drink and spend time with boyfriends. You’ve changed.”
“I guess that’s just the way I am,” Caryl said. She refused to admit any wrongdoing or say she wouldn’t do it again. Bill and Maryann hoped this was just one of those minor crises of growing up and testing her independence. They wanted to tell Caryl to stop seeing Mitch, but they weren’t ready to risk their increasingly strained relationship.
For the rest of the school year, though slightly defensive about Mitch, Caryl still was open about their activities. She mentioned that late one night he knocked on her door, and she could tell he was drunk so she refused to let him in. “He sometimes gets violent and throws things when he’s been drinking,” she said.
She mentioned that he’d asked her to wash his truck, so she did. She was watching her weight because Mitch had said something about her pants getting tight. And she told how the Bible study group was demanding more time, and she thought she was going to have to drop it from her schedule next year.
Bill and Maryann hoped that the summer break, when Mitch returned to his dad’s veterinary clinic and Caryl came home to work, would also mean a breakup in their relationship. But it didn’t. They may have been apart, but the weekly letters and phone calls showed the ties were still there.
“Maybe we should accept Mitch as a given and try to work with him,” said Maryann.
“Go ahead,” said Bill. “But their relationship will never work. They’re too different. I just wish Caryl could see that.”
That fall, they told Caryl to invite Tony and Mitch home for a Sunday afternoon picnic. When she did, however, Mitch told her, “I don’t have to go there. I’ve already met your folks.” Bill wondered what had caused the hostility. After all, they had only met face to face twice — once before Mitch and Caryl’s date to the basketball game, and once at Sunday dinner with the group from the dorm after he had preached near the university. Whatever the reason, throughout Caryl’s junior year, the hostility between Mitch and the Harrises increased, trapping Caryl in the middle.
At the beginning of the year, Caryl had said, “I’m going to be twenty in October. Let’s plan something fun for my birthday.” So Maryann began making plans: a party on Saturday night with some of her friends from high school and Sunday dinner with some friends from their church.
On Tuesday, however, Caryl called to say “Mitch wants to take me to Dry Lake this weekend to celebrate my birthday.”
“But we’ve planned a celebration here,” Maryann said.
“Can’t you cancel?”
Maryann took a deep breath and said, “No, we can’t.”
“Well, Mitch isn’t going to like this. He wants me to go home and meet his parents.”
“I’m sorry,” said Maryann, not used to being this forceful. “Everyone’s already invited. I think you should come home.”
Caryl finally agreed, but as she predicted, Mitch was furious. “You can’t make any decisions yourself,” he shouted. “Your parents make them for you. They rule your life. They’ll never set you free. You’re a slave.” Caryl denied it.
Mitch stalked off, swearing. “Forget you, woman. You’re hopeless.”
When she came home that weekend, Caryl said, “I’ve done a lot of crying the last couple days. It’s over between Mitch and me; I had no business going with him anyway. I actually feel relieved.” Maryann felt relieved, too, but Bill suspected the war was not yet over.
For her birthday, Bill and Maryann let Caryl take their second car, an aging Ford Fairmont, back to school. She had a part-time job in a fabric store, and now she wouldn’t have to walk or ride buses at night — or get rides from Mitch.
Mitch ignored Caryl for two weeks and then suddenly reentered the picture, ready to pick up where they’d left off. He asked her to type one of his papers. Caryl said OK. Then she helped him wash his truck. Soon they were dating again, and she was cleaning his room and doing his laundry. She bought cowboy boots and jeans “because Mitch thinks they look good on me” and began wearing red fingernail polish “because Mitch likes it.”
“And he accuses us of keeping her a slave,” Bill muttered to Maryann after one of the weekly phone calls.
Caryl did put her foot down at times, although feebly. After one party featuring “chugging contests,” Caryl told him she didn’t feel comfortable around drinking games and would not go to any more of those parties.
“You better learn to like them,” he said.
“I don’t think I have to,” she replied, but as the months went by, she stopped resisting and went wherever he wanted.
At every opportunity, Bill and Maryann were encouraging her to break off the relationship, to spend more time with friends from the Bible study.
“Caryl, we just don’t see any future in this,” Maryann said. “Mitch is really very, very different, and I don’t see any hope that he’s going to change. We’ve prayed for him. And remember when you told him why you were a Christian? You shared your testimony, and he said, ‘Don’t you ever talk to me like that again. I like the way I live. I’m not going to change.’ Until he shows some sign of softening, there’s really no solid foundation for a relationship to be built.”
Without being absolutely demanding, they tried everything they could: pointing out areas of incompatibility and insensitivity, trying to clarify Mitch’s tendency to be critical of the faith, raising questions about the direction things were going.
“Mitch seemed to have more and more power over her, and she wasn’t able to break it,” reflected Maryann. “She would say, ‘Well, there are no Christian guys who are interested in me’ or ‘There are no Christian guys who have the same charisma he has. He’s so masculine; he takes charge.’ She complained about Christian guys, but since she’d stopped going to the Bible study and church activities, she wasn’t any place where she could meet them. Her life revolved around her small circle of friends in the dorm.”
One night, over the phone, Caryl said, “I like Mitch because he has goals. He knows where he’s going.”
“Assertiveness may be attractive to a certain point,” said Bill. “But I think you’ll find it can become oppression and control four years into marriage. With him you would be a nonperson.”
“All the Christian guys I know are losers,” she said. “Non-Christian guys treat me better than the Christian guys I know.”
“As a male, it’s hard for me to respond,” said Bill. “But I do know it’s not worth mortgaging your soul for any relationship with a man.”
As Bill recalls, at this point things seemed to become less rational. “Caryl’s emotional responses didn’t seem to have any pattern. One day she seemed to agree that she wanted to live the way she’d been brought up, but then the next day she would be angry at us for raising any question of right or wrong.”
Mitch graduated at Christmas of Caryl’s junior year and went to Argentina to work with an uncle on a cattle ranch. The Harrises breathed a sigh of relief, thinking perhaps he was gone. He did write Caryl several letters, a few of which she let Maryann read.
“He used so many obscene words I was embarrassed,” Maryann told Caryl. “Doesn’t he care who he’s using that language around?”
“Oh, that’s just Mitch,” Caryl said.
“How can you stand it?”
Caryl just shrugged.
When Mitch returned to Texas, Caryl was home for spring break. One evening around 5 p.m., he phoned to see if she was free for dinner. She said yes, but Mitch didn’t show up until after 10. Caryl met him at the door. Maryann stood in the background.
“Here I am. Let’s go eat!” he said to Caryl, without a glance at Maryann.
“You haven’t eaten supper yet?” asked Caryl.
“No. I’m famished. Let’s go.” And he grabbed Caryl’s hand and pulled her out the door. Maryann walked to the door and watched the pickup spray gravel as it sped away.
When 2 a.m. came and went, Bill said to Maryann, “I didn’t use to worry about Caryl when she stayed out late because she would always tell us what happened when she got back. But I don’t trust Mitch. And after Caryl’s been with him, she doesn’t like to talk about it.”
It was after 3 by the time they got back, and Bill was lying in bed unable to sleep. Maryann, also restless, had stayed up to invite Mitch to spend the night on the downstairs couch. Caryl’s hair was mussed and her clothes disheveled.
“Late supper,” Maryann said in her most matter-of-fact voice.
“Oh, you know,” said Caryl. “It took a while to eat and talk and stuff.”
“Well, Mitch, it’s too late to try to make it all the way to Dry Lake,” Maryann said, trying to retain her composure. “I’ve fixed the couch for you to camp out.” Mitch accepted with a simple “Sounds good.”
The next morning, Caryl was up early, hair curled and make-up on, and went to McDonald’s for breakfast with Mitch. When they came back, Maryann was in the kitchen, but Bill stayed in his study, trying to read. “I don’t think I should see Mitch,” he had told his wife. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to control what I would say.”
Caryl walked in to where her mother was reading the newspaper.
“Mitch wants me to go to Dry Lake with him,” she said.
Maryann gulped. “I don’t think it’s a good time to ask after last night, but ask your father.” Caryl went upstairs.
Bill said, “Absolutely not. Mitch has earned neither our trust nor our respect. I can’t give you my permission.” Caryl protested but eventually went downstairs to tell Mitch she couldn’t go.
“Well I’ve never been treated like this before!” Mitch fumed. “Your dad won’t even talk to me himself. I guess that’s what happens in religious circles.”
When he left, neither Caryl nor her parents felt like saying anything to each other. But Maryann tried. “It would take a lot, I know, but if Mitch could become a Christian, it would be like the apostle Paul. He’d sure have a lot of energy and drive to give.”
“It’ll take just as great a miracle, and until it does,” Bill said, looking at Caryl, “it can be dangerous for a Christian to be too close to him.”
Maryann turned to Bill. “But don’t we have to keep befriending him? If we tell him to leave Caryl alone, what will he think of Christians? What if he winds up in hell because we didn’t want him around?”
“Your opinion of God is too small,” Bill sighed. “If God is sovereign, I doubt if he’s going to allow two parents’ concern for their daughter’s spiritual life to send someone else to hell. God has plenty of ways to reach Mitch — including Caryl’s life standing for something else.”
For the rest of the school year, Caryl stayed at the university, and the Harrises could only pray she was making wise choices. Mitch was in Dry Lake, but they knew he made periodic visits to see Caryl. Caryl had mentioned that Mitch had a serious side — he was even talking about how many children he’d like to have. Bill and Maryann didn’t know what to say.
That summer, Caryl found a job near the university and decided to stay in Austin. She came home on weekends once or twice a month. One day while Bill was in the church office, working on a sermon, he looked up to see Mitch standing in the doorway.
“I thought it was time we talked face to face,” said Mitch.
“That sounds like a good idea,” Bill replied.
“I want to know why you don’t like me,” Mitch demanded.
“We don’t dislike you, Mitch. But we can’t encourage a relationship between you and Caryl when there is no solid foundation for a lasting relationship. We see such fundamental differences in the way you two were raised.”
“Like what?”
Bill tried to explain the differences between Mitch’s nominal Christian upbringing and Caryl’s active evangelical family. He tried to explain conversion, forgiveness, and living a life that honors God. “Being a Christian is a way of life for our family,” he concluded.
“Caryl’s told me all that,” Mitch said. “I come from a strong family, too. We believe in God and go to church once in a while. There’s not that much difference in our beliefs.”
Not wanting to deny Mitch’s religious heritage, Bill said, “I think I mean something different by commitment to God than you do — it’s more than church attendance. I just wish I could explain it more clearly. But Mitch, even if it were true that our religious differences were minor, which they aren’t, I think the difference in our backgrounds is such that you two could not be permanently happy together. Part of it is the difference between rural and urban expectations. Part of it is Caryl. You have a strongly traditional view of a woman’s role in the home. Caryl has been raised to think for herself, but she has not been herself since she’s met you. She’s taken by your strong personality, but that won’t last in a marriage. Eventually she would feel oppressed. The bottom line is that you two don’t belong together.”
Mitch reiterated his opinion that they were two grown adults, and he was sure they could work out any differences. He rose to leave. “But I do understand a little more of your opinion,” said Mitch.
“I hope I’ve made myself clear,” said Bill. “I appreciate you stopping by.”
Both Mitch and Bill left thinking they had won a major battle. Bill told Maryann, “I think Mitch may see we’ve got good reasons to be opposed to their relationship.” And Mitch told Caryl, “I think I got your dad straightened out on things.”
The next weekend, when Caryl was home, she said to her mother, “I’m glad things went so well between Mitch and Dad. Mitch said Dad is starting to come around.”
“That isn’t how I read it,” said Maryann. “Dad and I are as opposed as ever. We’ve prayed that this thing would work out, that Mitch would change. But the only person we’ve seen change, Caryl, is you. You used to be proud of your standards. Now you’re defending Mitch — the places he takes you, the language he uses, and the attitude he has toward us and everything we stand for. It can’t go on like this.”
Caryl patted her mother on the shoulder. “Don’t make such a big deal out of it, Mom. I’m a big girl now. I can take care of myself.” She changed the subject to her job, the money she was making, and the minor repairs the Ford needed.
That night Maryann told Bill, “I’m afraid Mitch is winning the war. We may be losing our daughter. When Martin and Brenda left home and got married, it was sad, but we rejoiced with them, too. But if Caryl leaves like this, it would be only tragedy.” Even after praying together that God would protect Caryl both from herself and from Mitch, neither of them slept well.
The rest of the summer, Caryl was increasingly preoccupied — “she looks like she’s in a dream world,” said Maryann. Bill noticed that her comments about people in the church were all negative — “They’re a bunch of losers,” “I’m glad I’m not going to church every Sunday anymore,” and “The people in the bars are friendlier than the people in your church.” That shook Bill.
When the young couples Sunday school class invited him to speak at their annual “family life” retreat, he declined, even though he had enjoyed doing so in the past. “It would be pure hypocrisy for me to talk on family life, especially on parenting, when we are failing with one of our own children.” Even his enthusiasm for preaching was gone.
By the middle of August, when Caryl started talking about trying to find a job in Dry Lake after graduation, Bill and Maryann decided something had to be done — even something drastic.
“We may be writing off our daughter,” said Bill. “But unless something is done, we’ve lost her anyway. We’ve got to do something, even if Caryl leaves us, to restore the emotional stability of this home.”
He sat down to think of all the leverage points he had with his daughter, who was now less than a year away from college graduation and complete independence. He put his thoughts into a letter.
Dear Caryl,
Sometimes being a parent is close to pure joy — like watching you take your first steps, taking part in your baptism, celebrating your selection as yearbook editor, or seeing you living out your faith as a college freshman.
Other times being a parent means having to make some difficult decisions, and now is one of those times.
Caryl, your mother and I feel like we’re losing you. You think you are old enough to make your own decisions, but we’d like to think the way you were raised would have some influence on those choices. Over the past two years, we’ve talked repeatedly about your relationship with Mitch. Your family backgrounds, religious backgrounds, and personalities are incompatible. We cannot accept him in our family. And you would soon be torn between living in two worlds.
We’ve asked you to break it off. You have refused. You have said, “I’m old enough to make my own decisions.” Maybe so. But if you continue in this relationship, Caryl, we will assume this means you are ready to make those decisions — and accept their consequences. You will always be our daughter, but once you remove yourself from under our guidance, there will be certain changes in our relationship.
1. You will no longer have use of the family car. We will expect you to return the Fairmont immediately.
2. I will tell the church board we no longer need the $1,000 scholarship the church provides you each year.
3. My own financial support of your education will end.
4. During your upcoming internship this year, you will not live in our house, as previously assumed, but you will find and furnish your own apartment.
5. Upon graduation, you will not be living with us “until a job opens up” but immediately be on your own.
As you learned to say in your self-assertiveness courses, Caryl, “I’m a self-made woman.” Perhaps you are. I just thought you should know all that’s involved if you persist in being your own person.
Let us know by August 30 if you prefer life with Mitch or life as part of our family.
Sincerely,
Dad
The Harrises mailed the letter, and three days later, August 27, Caryl called. “Well, I got your letter yesterday,” she said.
“Have you done anything about it yet?” Bill asked.
“I thought I had some time.”
“You have three days. We have to settle this, Caryl.”
“I know, Dad.” Caryl was subdued as she hung up.
Maryann noticed the strain on her husband’s face. “She still wants to play both sides,” she said.
“Yes, and I’m removing the option of the second side,” he said.
In less than ten minutes, the phone rang again. It was Caryl. She was crying.
“I just called Mitch and told him it’s over. I told him I’d gotten a letter from my dad and that I knew I had to decide between him and my family. And I realize I love my family more. So I did it …” She broke off in sobs.
“Do you want us to come be with you tonight?” Maryann asked.
“Yes.”
Immediately Bill and Maryann packed a few things and drove the two hours to be with Caryl. When they arrived, Caryl hugged them both, but weakly. She looks wrung out, thought Bill. But then, I feel like a wet noodle, too. Over dinner, Caryl asked, “If I’ve done the right thing, why does it feel so bad?”
Bill and Maryann tried to affirm her decision. “You must feel torn apart,” Maryann said. “You’ve chosen one side of who you are — the way you’ve been raised. It’s painful when another side of you is cut out.”
“We don’t mean to be cruel or to punish you,” said Bill. “We’re simply trying to clarify what has really been taking place. Caryl, I’d rather hurt you now than to see you torn apart in a miserable marriage five years down the road.”
After that emotionally draining crisis, the Harrises hoped everything was over, but their resolve continued to be tested. One Sunday afternoon when Caryl was home and Bill was away speaking at another church, Mitch called, inviting Caryl to meet him at a friend’s apartment across town.
“Can’t I go?” she asked her mom.
Maryann’s throat felt dry. She wondered how Caryl could ask after all they’d been through. “I thought we agreed everything was over.”
“But I need to talk to him. If I can’t go there, can he come here?”
“I wish you wouldn’t, but you do what you think is right.”
Caryl told Mitch to come on over. Within fifteen minutes, Mitch was saying, “We’re going out to a movie.”
“I can’t allow that,” said Maryann.
“Don’t you think Caryl’s damn well old enough to make up her own mind?”
“When it comes to certain things, no,” said Maryann, surprised at her own bluntness. “We’ve made it clear we don’t think this relationship will work, and we don’t see any point in you taking her out. If you need to talk, you can do it right here.”
Mitch and Caryl went into the family room and sat on the couch. Maryann walked by and noticed Mitch’s arm around Caryl. They looked quite cozy. Taking a deep breath, she walked in and said, “Mitch, I don’t know if you realize the importance of what Christ has done in our lives and what it means to us to be Christians, but I’d like to explain it if you’re interested.”
“Go ahead.”
Maryann had just finished her church’s evangelism training course and went through the whole presentation of the gospel. When she finished, Mitch said, “That’s what I believe too. But, dammit, I get tired of having it crammed down my throat!”
“I’m sorry if it sounds like preaching,” said Maryann. “But we try to live according to the Bible, and it commands us not to be ‘unequally yoked’ to those who don’t share our commitment to Christ.”
“My family worships God,” said Mitch. “I don’t see why you worship an old book written back in the 1300s.”
Maryann chose to overlook the historical error.
“We feel there’s another way to live when Christ becomes the Lord of your life. You live either to please him or to please yourself. That’s why we think you and Caryl would have serious problems down the road.”
“Hell, Caryl’s no different from me.”
“That remains to be seen. At least the way she’s been raised is different from your lifestyle. You’ve made fun of her friends; you’ve made fun of her church and her parents; you’ve tried to undermine our relationship with her. It seems to me you’re pulling her down instead of building her up. You once said you were attracted to Caryl because of her strong morals, because she was different from other girls you dated. It looks to me like you’re trying to change her from the very thing that attracted you in the first place.”
He looked a little surprised but said, “My parents weren’t for this relationship at first, either. But they met Caryl and learned to like her. I don’t see why you can’t do the same.”
“Mitch, you’ve taken her places she wouldn’t have gone otherwise. She never dated anybody who drank or who used the language you use. Just sitting here tonight, five times you have used language we find vulgar or blasphemous,” and Maryann repeated the words. Mitch’s mouth dropped open. “You seem to be content with that. That’s your lifestyle, but it isn’t ours, and I don’t think Caryl would be content with it either.”
“You have no right to judge me. You’re the most closed-minded people I’ve ever met.”
“I don’t mean to judge. I just wanted you to hear our side.”
The conversation turned to other, less volatile topics, and Mitch showed no sign of leaving. Maryann didn’t budge either. If they stay until three in the morning, I’m staying here too, she thought. But finally, after midnight, she said, “Well, I think it’s about time you left, Mitch, because Caryl has to get up early to head back to school, and she really needs her rest.”
I can’t believe I’m doing this, she thought. I’ve never asked anybody to leave my home before. But if he’s exerting emotional energy, I will too.
Mitch was civil as he got up and said good-bye. Afterwards Caryl, who had been silent throughout the evening, said, “I was terrified, Mom. Whenever I tried to talk with him like that, he’d tell me to shut up. I hope he listened.”
“Me too, dear,” said Maryann. “Me, too.”
But even that was not the final encounter. Bill’s resolve was also tried when two weeks later, he drove home from the church one afternoon to find a pickup truck in the driveway and Mitch talking with Caryl on the front steps.
“I had only the distance from the intersection to the house to find some emotional equilibrium,” Bill said later. “I was fearful. I was angry. I was disappointed because we couldn’t seem to get this thing behind us. Mitch insisted on coming by, and Caryl didn’t have the strength to say no. So I had to play the bad guy.”
Bill pulled into the driveway. As he walked to the front door, he tried to keep his voice from shaking. “Mitch, what are you doing here?”
“Just a social visit,” said Mitch.
“I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
“Why? Let’s go inside and talk about it.”
“There’s nothing left to talk about, Mitch. I resent your appearing here when we’ve given you a full explanation before.”
“What about Caryl? Doesn’t she have a say?”
“I’ll talk to her when you’re gone,” said Bill.
“Shouldn’t I be a part of it?”
“No, Mitch. That’s just it; you’re not a part of it.” Bill paused, because as a pastor the next words were some of the most difficult he’d ever had to say. “You are no longer welcome in this house. I don’t want to see you here again.”
“Well I’ve stayed away for three weeks.”
“Mitch, you don’t cut off a dog’s tail a little bit at a time. It’s time you left.”
“Damn you!” Mitch shouted, his face fiery red. Unused to facing a will as strong as his, he stormed out to his pickup, and his departure left rubber on the driveway.
Inside the house, Bill found Maryann crying, Caryl pale, and his voice quivering. “Caryl, why was he here?”
“He phoned to ask if he could come over, and I said yes.”
Bill shook his head. “Why do you think I wrote that letter a month ago? Caryl, maybe it’s time you moved out. I’d thought we’d reached the bottom line, but apparently we haven’t.”
Caryl’s eyes filled with tears.
“I don’t know what you want with your life or which way you want to go. But we are at the end of our emotional tether. We can’t go any further. And if it means you’re not going to be a part of our family any more, we’re prepared to face that, even though we don’t want to. But we cannot have this emotional warfare continuing. We’re that serious. I don’t want to see him in this house again.”
“I can’t make any decision right,” Caryl sobbed. “Anything I do is wrong. You’re disappointed in me. Why should I go on living? I’m good for nothing.”
“Caryl, Caryl,” Maryann said softly, holding her daughter’s hand. “That’s not true. It’s because we think so much of you that we’ve done this.”
“You’ve got too much to offer to throw away on a guy like Mitch,” said Bill. “The only reason you’ve lost confidence in yourself is because for three years Mitch has been tearing you down. He’s made your decisions for you. He’s a mood-altering drug, and when he gets out of your system, you’ll be able to make good decisions again.”
For the next year, Bill and Maryann had to repeatedly prop up Caryl’s sagging self-worth. But they persevered, and Mitch at last stopped his attempts to see Caryl. Gradually Caryl returned to the confident, independent thinker she had been.
Now, four years later, she has thanked her parents several times for stopping her from making a big mistake. She’s the manager of a fabric store and helping direct the high school ministry in her local church.
“We took drastic action,” Bill said. “It wouldn’t have been successful if there weren’t a hundred messages, a thousand messages, before that we loved her and truly wanted the best for her. We risked our twenty-year investment in family building. We clipped our emotional coupons with Caryl, and this is something you can do only once. It’s not a threat you can use over and over. I’m not sure it would be the right approach for everyone, but in our case, it was the right move.”
When You Risk the Relationship
Bill and Maryann Harris faced a unique situation with a daughter who did not want help with a particular relationship. Not everyone will encounter the same factors. Not everyone will choose to handle even similar situations the same way the Harrises did. But the story of the Harris family does illustrate several transferable principles, some of which have been suggested earlier in this book, for helping those who don’t want help. What were the things Bill and Maryann clearly did right?
1. They showed support and love. For almost twenty years, Bill and Maryann had built a strong relationship — with one another and with Caryl. Even when the tension came, they continued to support Caryl (though not her decisions) and maintained their relationship with her through months and years of nerve-wrenching conflict. They demonstrated their care for her even when they were knocking heads.
2. They communicated clearly and specifically. They told Caryl their reasons for disapproving of her relationship with Mitch, and they made clear their expectations for her to break it off. They did not simply hint at their feelings or speak in veiled, offhand comments. Clear communication is critical so that when the bomb is dropped, the person doesn’t feel it’s a complete surprise and knows how to move to keep from getting hit.
3. They did not rush to judgment. Bill and Maryann were slow to escalate the conflict, to raise the stakes. They reserved playing their trump — risking their relationship — until they had exhausted every quieter, more diplomatic means available. They refused to rely on drastic measures (or threats of them) until they were absolutely sure Caryl was on a destructive path and all other methods of helping her had failed. They went the second mile, and the third, and the fourth … before acting. Only then, when the risk of losing her through confrontation was less than the risk of doing nothing and letting her be hurt even more, did they put their relationship on the line.
4. They showed the extreme measures were for her best interests. As Bill put it, “I’d rather hurt you now than see you torn apart in a bad marriage five years from now.” Bill and Maryann had carefully checked themselves to make sure their actions were motivated not out of self-protection but genuine concern for their daughter’s welfare. Then they were free to tell her so with boldness and integrity.
5. They gave her a choice. Even when they wrote the admittedly drastic letter, Bill and Maryann respected Caryl’s freedom and let her make the final decision. They could have written, “Because of your previous actions, we are now cutting you off financially.…” But they didn’t. They spelled out the consequences of her actions and gave her the freedom to make her own decision accordingly.
6. They set a time limit. They gave clear boundaries to their position — the behavior desired, the course they would follow if it were not chosen, and the time limit for the decision. They didn’t let the Sword of Damocles hang over Caryl’s head forever.
7. They backed the demands with resolve. Bill and Maryann were prepared to take the necessary measures, as wrenching as they would be, if Caryl’s choice went against them. Empty threats are worse than doing nothing at all. Both Bill and Maryann demonstrated their strength of will and their determination to follow through on their decision.
8. They did not withdraw once the decision was made. The Harrises did not begrudge Caryl the pain she had caused them. Once she had made her choice, they dropped everything and drove to see her. They supported her, helped her stand firm in her choice, and continued to intervene with Mitch. Choices are not made in an emotional vacuum. They require maintenance. Bill and Maryann offered themselves to help Caryl maintain her decision.
Helping people who don’t want help usually does not get to the point where the relationship must be risked, fortunately, but when the situation arises, these principles point the way to the greatest chance of success.
Copyright ©1986 by Christianity Today
