The Teachings of a Mom, or the Teachings of Society?

    She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye and knocked her son's door. It was early. The dew from the night still was clinging to the windows. No answer on first knock, so she knocked, again.

   He came to the door, his tall, handsome, regal, dark-haired self, dressed in his sheriff's department uniform and ready for work. 

   She threw her arms around him.

   "Son, I've been thinking all night long about what you told me," she offered, as their embrace ended. She referred to a phone call they had had late that last night, he telling her of how his day had gone, including the arrest of a homeless couple for sleeping in an abandoned building. Trespass, you know. Invasion of property.

   "Oh, son, what harm did it do that they were there? They simply were seeking shelter."

  The officer-son's eyes dropped, but he did not reply.

   "Tim, I wonder what you've become. What you've learned and what you've become, comes not from my teachings, but from those of society." She paused, a gentle look deep in her eyes. "Society teaches us not to tolerate the homeless when they wander into places for shelter. Sometimes, we even shoot them. I know what you say, a man's home is his castle, and he should be able to defend it."

  She paused, love still abundant in her eyes.  "So they say, son. That is what the world teaches you."

  Another pause. For, a moment, she searched for what to say.

  "Tim, I'm your mother. I love you, very much. But you are not learning from me, but from society. I beg you not to let go of teachings from me, your mother."

   Another pause, this time as she prepared her thoughts on something that had happened years ago when he had shot a fleeing man. "Son, that shooting three years ago, I thought on it last night, as well. You go to the police academy. . . . And, your training from the police academy had you kill him. I would that my teaching was just as important as that of the police academy."

 She wiped a single tear from her eye, before breaking out in an all-out bawl and gathering him in her arms in a desperate hug.

  "I think of those from Mexico," she said. "And, of how often you have said we should built a wall against them, of how our president wants that wall, of how they are called illegal, and of how we are upset they are using our welfare system."

 Again, their embrace ended, and she parted to look him gently in the eye. "No mercy. No mercy for the poor. No, Tim -- not in these teachings from society. I love you, son. But, please remember the teachings of your youth. I taught you compassion. I taught you to care for those in need. I taught you to share. I taught you to love others." 

She reached out and touched him on the arm. "I must be going, Tim. You must be going. I don't want to make you late for work. But, know I love you."

She turned and walked back to her car. As she drove off, gentle tears continued from her eyes. But, they were soft, not bawling tears. There was comfort in her heart, for she had performed her role as a mother. She had taught her son. And, she knew there was hope that he might listen.