Irish Sheep

A full days manual labor behind me, and I feel...in pain, I feel in pain. No great spiritual high, I just hurt! I'm too old for crap like this, but the up side is I got out of my own shit. That's always a good deal, if your me, which your not, thank jehova. Cap J, sorry. I'm really trying to get over the god resentment thing, honest. "G"od resentment thing. However, after working my ass off in the almost 100 degree weather for eight hours scraping paint, I'm over my resentment at Al's dad. There are two kinds of parents. Those who do what I did today in order to feed their child...and then there's his kind. It's self explanitory. And yes I feel quite superior at the moment.
By noon all I could feel way pity for the man, and some grattitude for him loaning me the battery out of his car. But by the time I went to get Al at the church at 5:00, I felt nothing at all.
Day two of Chalice camp went well I suppose, Al hasn't been talking to me much lately, except today on the way to the church to drop him off, he asked me if I wished I lived in Ireland?
I asked him what he knew about Ireland, and he said "Well, they DO have sheep there, and lots of trees."
That's been about as deep as our conversations have gotten since the deal with his dad went down. Nothing was any different with his dad this time, but Al and I both convinced ourselves and each other it was. The thing that is different this time, is I'm not enabling his dad's flakiness, by making the excuses I'd become famous for with Al. Even though the kid knew I was full of crap, he counted on hearing all the lies I told him regarding his dad. Maybe I'm wrong, but I can't do it any more. The man gets to be accountable to his kid the same way I get the honor of being. It's called being an adult I think.
Al will protect himself from being hurt, and there are some good men at church who can be role models for being just that, a good man. I will do whatever I must to provide for Al, to make up for the fact that his dad chooses only to offer mowing the lawn once a week, and his "Life experience and wisdom" as a sufficient contribution to raising this child who is my heart.
I used to tell myself "At least he doesn't beat me.", as if the absence of physical violence was a perk.
I didn't believe I was worth any more than that, and the question I have to ask myself is what are you worth today? What do you want your son to believe his worth is? The only answer I know is, more. More.