It was just another ordinary day - my son, Justin and I were sitting around talking about this and that.... "Mom, what would you say if I told you I wanted an eye piercing?" "Only losers and druggies have piercings!"

The words came out of my mouth so fast, I didn't even know I said them until I was done with my sentence - my heart was pumping and I was immediately in a bad mood. "I'm just kidding, don't freak out on me". "Don't joke about a thing like that."

There was an odd silence in the room; I don't know what his problem was, but he went into his room and closed the door rather loudly. " What was that all about", I thought to myself. Oh Well, I guess I'll turn on some music and start cleaning. To my shame, I never thought my actions through.

(O' Lord, why do you even put up with me?)

Three weeks later, my husband and are having breakfast, I know something is on his mind as there was that same odd silence I had experienced with my son. (Here it comes, though I never expected the "it" to be this!) "I know how you feel about piercings.... 'he isn't going to say it'... but

I talked with Justin and he really wants to have one." "You hurt his feelings when you told him only losers and druggies have piercings". "Well, it's true!" "Calm down, Teresa, what is the big deal - Justin is doing great in school, he has a job, he doesn't get into trouble, he is paying for his own dirt-bike... should I go on?"

I couldn't hold back the tears, "First he doesn't want to go to church anymore, and now this?" Then the real issue comes to surface; what will other people think!

My husband knew I was being irrational, so being the wise man that he is, he told me that he would leave me alone until I could be reasonable.

It's been said over and over that God works in mysterious ways, it is so true! During this time I was preparing for the women's conference I was to be speaking at in just 6 weeks. I had been praying about what stories I would be sharing. The topic was "Recovering from Doubt and Restoring Joy One Step at a Time". "You are so funny, Lord, isn't just like you to give me a new story".

As I cleaned the house, I whined to my Lord, trying to get Him to understand my point of view and to change my husband's rediculous way of thinking. "Teresa, my child, you know I love you and you know I love Justin, you have been preaching and teaching unconditional love and acceptance - Is this what you are doing"? "Yes, but this is different, this is my child."

All at once, the conviction and shame came flooding to my heart. ( Forgive me, Father for having this attitude. I know that no one is a loser in your eyes - you didn't give up on me.) I knew I was wrong. I knew I had to deal with this - going back to the very first conversation with my son.

"Justin, can we talk"? I told him I was sorry for being selfish and inconsiderate. I told him that I loved him and that I was being completely irrational. He forgave me, but not before he told me that I needed to practice what I preached. I deserved it.

With the appointment set, I had three weeks to align my heart with the decision I made in my head. I prayed and prayed that God would change my heart.

The hour had come. "Mom, are you okay, you don't have to come if you don't want to." "No way, I am coming and I am not upset at all. God has changed my heart." He didn't say another word, but at that moment, I became a mind reader: Okay, mom, but if you say anything....

I have to say, once I saw it, it actually looked cool; it wasn't this big bulky spike I expected to see. We went out to dinner and had a wonderful time. My "inside matched my outside", as I used to tell the preschool Sunday school class.

The days that followed were even more special. My son and I had become much closer as I showed him what unconditional love was all about. "You know mom, it's kinda ironic that you help me everday to clean and change my piercing everytime I have to go to work".

My son laughed when he heard me pray, "Lord, please don't let this get infected and help me get the little bally thingy in place, I can't see the hole". "Thanks, mom, I love you."

"Hey mom, so am I a loser and a druggie? " No son, you're not a loser or a druggie."

(C) Teresa Ortiz

My Son's 250 KTM: The Rest of the Story

It was raining and 28 degrees outside when we left home for the motocross raceway.

"Man, this is going to be a messy race." My husband says, as we pull into the parking lot.

"Mom, do me a favor; go buy some cooking spray."

"Cooking spray?"

"It's to keep the mud from sticking to my bike"

"Oh, O.K."...

Everything is set up; the racers are primed and ready! The adrenaline is pumping through my son's veins; I can almost see it as he struggles to remain calm.

"Riders take your mark!"

It is dead silent as the racers line up, the tension is so thick, and you can cut it with a knife.

"Riders get set!"

I'm standing there shivering from the cold, unconsciously scratching my arms, thinking, let them go already!

It is time. The flag goes down! As they take off, the roar of all the engines pulse through my body.

It amazes me how 25 riders start in a single line and then in a matter of seconds, they each have to fight to squeeze into a track that is five feet wide. (It must be a guy thing.)

Forty seconds into the race and three riders are stuck in the first mud pit; "J" just misses the back tire of the rider who went down right in front of him. (My heart begins to beat a little faster and the temperature seems to go from 28 to 80 in a matter of seconds.)

"Go J," we yell, as he zooms by us, wait; is that J? Apparently, all of the boys decided to give themselves and their bikes a mud bath. They were indistinguishable some bikes even had branches sticking out of the motors.

What is going on in those wooded areas? So much for the cooking spray-oh well, it's not a complete waste, I can use it at home. I suppose it was a good idea...

An hour later, many of the racers had to drop out because their bikes were over-heating, and some just plain quit. We decided to run to the far end of the track to see if we could catch a glimpse of him coming out of the woods-which we did...

"Oh, no", my heart sank as I saw him stuck at least two-feet in the mud. I could see by his hunched posture that he was tired and angry. I watched helplessly as he tried to no-avail to lift his bike high enough to get under it and climb back on. He did this for at least ten minutes. I was impressed that he wasn't giving up.

However, it was clear that he was running out of energy. Suddenly, as if he were an angel, another rider came to his rescue and together, lifted his bike out of the mud. In an instant, I saw him stand straight up and jump on his bike! He gave a wave of thanks, spit mud in the air with his tire and he was off!

An hour and a half and 21-miles later, he pulls into the pit. He had finished his race! Between the cold, the rain and a track turned quick-sand, this endurance race lived up to its name. Once again, we are proud that our son chose to fight and not to give up. He climbed off his bike, sat (more like fell) on the ground with a smile that made us laugh.

The only thing you could make out on his mud-laden body was his pearly white teeth!

Of the many lessons one might glean from this story, one remains most valuable to me; as I scratched my arm while preparing dinner, it occurred to me that it might have been the rash after all.