Tag: addiction

Give Me Back My Son

ƛ͙ Ɗ͙ƛ͙Ƴ͙ Ɩ͙Ɲ͙ Ƭ͙Ӈ͙Є͙ LƖ͙Ƒ͙Є͙

Sunday: I’m at work, passing medications– the irony. The very thing that started this nightmare into hell.


10:15 text- “Hey mom, is there any way you could help me out? I don’t get paid until tomorrow and I borrowed $100 from a friend to cover rent.


10:16 “Hi son, nice to hear from you. I could buy you some food.


10:18 “I need to pay him
back. Please, I haven’t asked for anything for a long time.

10:19 “I could possibly pay some on your rent.


11:20 missed call
11:22 missed call
10:39 “I’m at work I can’t talk.
10:39.5 “Sorry mom

12:30 “Mom this guy is wanting his money back faster than I can get it.


12:40 “Mom I promise I’ll pay you back tomorrow

2:30. “Mom I’m working my ass off. I just cant’ get ahead. Please? I only need $60 now. $40 for him $20 for food.


4 pm. Get home, start dinner, laundry.
6 pm relax in front of tv
8 pm get ready for bed
9 pm lie in bed grateful for no text, wondering if he’s beaten up.


10:30 text: “Mom I only need $40 now. Forget the food. I don’t need to eat. I’m begging you.

Sigh. Look over to make sure my husband is asleep.

Breathe…..

Detach, “they” say.
Don’t enable.
Block him.
Live your life
He has to hit “Rock bottom”

Rock Bottom?
The kid has lost everything. His Business, his livelihood, brand new house, all his equipment, over 20 cars, his family. His 2 precious kids.
He’s practically homeless with only the clothes on his back.
He’s also lost over 100 lbs. 😥
Rock bottom?

God help me
I pick up my phone, I proceed to do exactly the opposite of what my daughter and I had decided in regards to texting.
My son is severe ADD and admitted he only reads the first few words of any message.

Our Motto had become

sʜᴏʀᴛ ᴀɴᴅ sᴡᴇᴇᴛ

I proceeded to write out a Nar- anon friendly message about how I would love to help but I can’t, how I know he can have a better life & I’m willing to do anything to make that happen EXCEPT keeping him in that cycle of desperation. I said today’s $40 or $60 will be needed tomorrow and again and again and that he has the capability to support himself like before and as soon as he’s ready to make a change I will help him all I can….


Then I put his messages on ignore and put my phone away.

VƗØŁΔ!

2am. I SLEPT! That long!. Looked at phone. No messages in the ignore file.
Good..he didn’t even try to beg.


6 am. I SLEPT! Looked at phone. No missed calls. No new message in ignore file.


7 am. Coffee. Check Social media. Do pow wow aroebics warm up.


9 am order more addiction books off Amazon.
Noon. Clean. Laundry. Rake leaves.


2 pm watch Netflix, write article for my new blog about how to deal with an addict child- ya know? Since I had this all down pat…

No messages in ignore file.

6 pm dinner. Visit with youngest child, tv, write, read. No messages in ignore file

9 pm bed. Wow this is really working. Just tell them how it is and they mind! Maybe he’ll choose recovery! Tomorrow even!

11 pm. No messages in ignore file. Realize it’s been 24 hrs since he’s been on online.


12 pm. Realize that he didn’t even read my long message! He’s been offline now for 25 hours,!
Omg. What if that guy came RIGHT AFTER he sent that last pleading message & threatened him to pay $$ or pay with his life!

Suddenly I get the impression to call the hospital. I’ve never actually done that before. This must be a revelation that he’s there!
I call the hospital and ask if they have anyone in there without ID who’s beaten up or overdosed. Secretary says “We have 2 without ID. Let me transfer you to the Emergency room answering machine”.

2? A fight? He got In a fight with the dealer/ friend/ rent borrower!
I give my description of him to the ER answering machine.
I turn my phone volume all the way up. Roll over.

1 pm: Check phone. Nothing.
Roll over.

1:15 :Check phone.

1:30: check phone. Missed Call!!! I check my voicemail. A nice asian lady reports that no one fitting that description is there- goodbye.

My heart sinks. It’s been 26 1/2 hours since he’s been online.
I break down and check the booking reports.
No arrest.


2:30 am.Roll over. Try to sleep. Hear a sound. Get up. it’s my daughter going to work. Back to bed.


3:30 Hear another sound. Omg. What if they dropped his body off here since my address is listed as his and they wanted to show me a lesson.


6 pm awake! I slept! But with actual visions of him in a room in a chair with his hands tied behind his back.


8:30 am send text to son:
I’m so sorry – I didn’t know your life was in danger.

Please! please! Someone😭 save my son!
Followed by 5 texts begging him to be ok.

9:30 am Him: “Omg I don’t have a phone off of wifi and that message u sent did it. Try starting from nothing with no help. I should have known better than to ask anyone for help as far as everything else. I’m not going to be reachable anymore because they have now waved my right to a trial so with an attorney I would have no fellonyz now I’m a 6 time convicted felon on the run with a mandatory 5 years- I’m screwed”


Me : Thank God you’re alive.

Him. Omg that’s absolutely crazy why would I not be alive? Stop watching so many movies”

9:38 am: I collapse on the couch feeling the fullness of my tears well up behind my eyeballs in a raging flurry of sadness mixed with relief that today isn’t MY DAY for THE phone call. I hear a deep exhausting gutterall cry coming from a body that thought it knew how to handle this stress by now. The realization that I just spent another night in worry and fear ( for nothing! Which I’m,? Glad buttt….and it sounds like there’s more ahead.

Knowing that today will now be a wash with my emotions completing thrashed, the tears spill out over my flustered angry relieved face. I cover myself with my weighted blanket, feeling not only the tiny beads of lead on me, but the entire weight of the world.

I realize I have to go to work for 8 hrs tonight. I immediately send out a text to 18 people to see if they’ll cover me so I can drown in my own misery of torture.


One by one the refusals came pouring in. They need to car pool kids, their husbands are working. I want to scream: “GO AHEAD live your normal lives! My son was just dead, for 30 hours, tortured in a room or laying in a hospital bed as a John Doe, in jail on one of his warrants. But it’s ok. I’ll go to work and pretend that I have a normal life with normal problems and a son who’s happy and healthy taking care of his obligations making me proud again.


Damn
heroin,


Damn
addiction.


Damn
Purdue…


Damn whoever else I can blame.


Yes my son too
Damn you.
Come back.
Bring my real son back
😭💔😭

Yup
A Day in the Life of a Mom of an Addict.


How was your day?







“Because of Covid”

“Because of Covid”

How many times a day do we hear “Because of Covid?”

I’ve never wanted to die. But because of Covid, I sometimes do.

No, I don’t have Covid. Nor do I want it. No, I don’t think it’s a fake virus. I think it’s a virus.

A relatively unknown virus. That kills.

Almost everywhere, a million times a day you hear “Because of Covid.”

It seems to be a “reason” for ANY thing that can’t be done due to covid, no matter how trivial; even things which don’t seem to correlate “with Covid”.

Confusing statement? Exactly. Proves my point.

What makes me sad, and angry & shocked, is the power this virus seems to have. It’s like a cancer eating away at everyone’s sense of judgement for freedoms and even affects their relationship with their families, who may disagree.

The seemingly invisible ability to destroy families, businesses, traditions, values, vacations, jobs, housing, decency, human nature, bonds, and holidays feels eerily familiar.

See, there’s another Pandemic that doesn’t get near the attention because of a preconceived judgement that certain humans aren’t worthy of basic needs.

Resurrection of Me Instagram

I care about covid, I do. But the lack of attention and empathy for the ongoing opiod epidemic that came crashing into my life two years ago, has me rattled.

I mean, we could compare the two death rates and all, but it would always end with the same statement: “Well, addiction is not contagious, addicts knew the risk, they’re not innocent, they brought this onto theirselves”

That’s awesome.

Another painful jab to a mother’s hurting heart.

So pain is now judgementized?( I’m aware this may not be a real word- but it fits)

I thought pain was pain. Suffering is suffering.

I was taught as a nurse that pain is what ever the PATIENT said it was….. Not what pain YOU think they have. ( Thanks to studies sponsored by Purdue—which helped contribute to this epidemic in the first place)

How come AIDS was a valid disease even though it usually resulted from a person’s choice? (With no push from drs and pharmaceutical companies that it was ‘harmless’).

So are WE playing God by deciding who’s worthy of treatment or sympathy?

It’s an honest question.

“No we’re not playing God, it’s just that addiction will always be around, this virus NEEDS our attention NOW.”

Do you know what else needs attention? An innocent little kid who needs her daddy back. What else? A man who has lost every single thing he worked for 15 years to get and now he shaking miserably in the bathroom of a speedway not knowing where to get his next fix so he’ll stop vomiting. A mom, who night after night, cries herself to sleep wondering where she went wrong. A mom who begs a God she never quite believed in before, to please save her son.

Maybe that’s all I want. Is sympathy.

I get it.

I haven’t lost anyone to Covid. Close, but not quite.

But I guess I kindof resent the fact that those who have lost relatives to covid are getting the mass media coverage like crazy. Softly dramatized stories about how much their relative suffered in the hospital and the heroes who took care of them.

Let me be clear. I’m not downplaying anyone’s experience. I’m just saying that if their loved one was suffering with a substance abuse disorder, they probly would not be used as a ‘ story’ in order to further the need for a certain point to be made, such as mask wearing or any other pubic service campaign to persuade people to take it “more seriously”.

“We” (mamma’s of addicts) ARE taking it seriously. Like you, every aspect of our lives has changed, how could we not?

But we have been masking up for years. Hiding behind the stigma of Addiction. “We” can now see some of the hidden agendas that are being indirectly and sometimes directly played to families suffering with their grief.

This is done by using that pain as a “message” by having it come from the tear- stained face of a family member pleading with people to Pleeease care!

Do your part!!

“DO YOUR PART! DON’T BE SELFISH”

As they drive by the homeless person in their shiny car.

Look, I KNOW it’s human nature to have a CAUSE or a tribe to further the need of place our pain and blame onto someone or something else when we feel out of control. I mean, you could say I’m doing it now.

I could mention that I’ve been in “isolation” for years with my own mask. Covering up and quarantining our family secret of this addiction.

It’s one of those things normal people don’t understand.

But I attest to you, the pain of this other pandemic, is real. The fear of the unknown Is real. The dread of receiving “the call” is on my mind every single day.

When I see how far people have jumped and caved and twisted and turned for this virus, Yes, I’m jealous. I’ve written letter after letter asking for assistance with the nightmare journey of addiction. Famous people, entertainers, influencers, politicians, netflix documentary lawyers. I rarely get a response.

What did I want them to do? I don’t know. Whisk him away to the indies for a swanky rehab I guess. Who knows? I just want the pain to stop. Mostly for him. But that requires money.

The money thrown at this new powerful virus is hard to watch. 1-2 million for billboards for masks?

I’ve resigned to the fact that “because of Covid,” No one can really help. Especially when people are in constant chaos about the state of the world and the safety and future of themselves and their families. So I trudge through each day on a wing and a prayer. ?

Praying that “Because of Covid”, or AFTER covid, some miracle may happen to bring my son back to life.

Life before Covid.

Life before addiction.

I just hope that AFTER covid , it won’t be too late.

Anticipatory Grief

ƛ͙ Ɗ͙ƛ͙Ƴ͙ Ɩ͙Ɲ͙ Ƭ͙Ӈ͙Є͙ Լ͙Ɩ͙Ƒ͙Є͙

A person with a substance use disorder.

Is the correct title.

But today. It doesn’t matter. My son is lost in the chaotic world of addiction. He’s in pure survival mode.

And so am I.

The middle of the night awakenings are wearing on me…. Checking my phone for “the call”.

Apparently its called “anticipatory grief”

I don’t care what its called. I hate it.

I sink back into bed glad for one more day of hope.

Hope that a miracle will happen. That he will have a spiritual awakening. A moment of clarity. That he will suddenly devote his life to recovery as hard as he has devoted to his addiction.

My heart sinks a million feet when I get a glimpse of his pictures.

That boy. That all american boy that I’m just supposed to not talk about.

Detach they say.

Let him go. Let him hit rock bottom.

That phrase makes me laugh. Not a laugh of joy. Of sheer terror. Rock bottom? Losing a million dollar business, 1/2 million dollar house- hand built by my talented driven son; 2 beautiful babies who don’t know their daddy. His dignity, his respect. His livelihood, his honor, his dreams, his reputation, his honor.

Rock bottom?

A disease so powerful that it can make a man not care anymore. A drug so damn strong- thanks purdue- that it makes him lose 100 lbs in 6 months because food is an inconvenience compared to it’s euphoria.

But it’s not even euphoria anymore. It’s chasing the dragon….

Just trying to keep from getting sick every day.

And I chase my own dragon.

The dragon of despair….. Then a rush of relief….a glimmer of hope…..dashed with a sickening wave of disappointment.

But despite all this. I hold on. Because as long as I’m the mother of an addict, there’s the teeny tiny sliver of 🌠ⱧØ₱Ɇ🌠that I could soon be the mother of a recovered addict.

Rice on White

As much as I dislike the title, it is what it is.

Time to make the best of my ‘new’ title and find the hidden rainbow- right?

I was at work yesterday and had just ran to the cafeteria to grab lunch. I had the privilege of being able to eat alone in my office at this job. However, in my haste to get through lunch while doing some work on the computer, my plate had tipped, sending white rice all over the floor.

I fervently scanned the scattered pieces to find any glimpse of color. There didn’t seem to be ANY rainbows.

I stared at it.

How ironic. I had just told the housekeepers to stop straightening my desk in my office because they never actually cleaned it, they just shuffled all my papers together so I couldn’t find anything.

So now I had to sheepishly go ask them to please vacuum up my mess. I contemplated if I could possibly pick up every little piece of rice myself to avoid that.

It’s such a simple problem right?

No one will be the wiser!

Then no-one needs to cry over spilled milk. Or Rice.

Photo by arianna signorini on Pexels.com

But these days I seem to cry over everything.

My son was in full active addiction after a couple years of tragic downslide from having it all. Business, new house, family, money. All gone, of course. He now faced many charges of possession to feed his addiction, a few being felonies. His disease was telling him there was no way out, despite many options for recovery.

Basically just getting help would solve half his problems.

But as in true addiction- He couldn’t see a way out except to keep trying to work a few little jobs to save for a lawyer.

Which never happens. Keep in mind that’s been his story from the beginning of time. He just needs a little bit more money and everything will be alright.

So how, staring down at that rice imbedded into the doctor’s office- type old carpet; I became an addict. I became an overwhelmed hijacked brain.

I saw every one of those teeny tiny rice pellets as a HUGE problem. There was my failed business. That one is my ex-wife. There’s my kids I haven’t saw or supported in months/ years. There’s my IRS debt over there. Each one of my felonies stared back at me with such white rice starkness, I could hardly keep my gaze.

Trauma specialists say that when a traumatic event hits us at whatever age, it gets stored in the cells of our nervous system and time becomes frozen at the age we are. We shut down emotionally, in a sense, to stay at that place for self preservation. We refuse to listen to solutions or to people who remind us of that place that hurt us. There is virtually no way for the brain to move out of that place until it ғᴇᴇʟs sᴀғᴇ enough to.

That’s why jail, shame, threats, people telling them how ineffective they are or what a mess of their life they’ve made- DOESN’T work in FIXING it.

Furthermore, when people lose their pride, their sense of purpose, their identity (if their identity was wrapped up in their job or their relationship) they feel like they need justice from that first and foremost. Before a resolution.

So basically, everything is just too overwhelming for their frozen-in-time brain.

That rice was too overwhelming to clean up.

I snapped out of it and my healthy brain scooted each piece of rice together until I got a pile to throw away. Again and again until all the rice was gone.

My son, however, in his very hijacked brain keeps staring ( or avoiding) his pile of rice. He wants to run. He wants to hide. He says, Mom there’s no use, they (the cops) aren’t going to stop until I’m put away for good.

My tears flow on days like this.

My strong smart entrepreneur son is going to jail for satisfying his cravings like a smoker buying his ciggerettes, like me buying my chocolate chip cookies. He has a disease that sent him down this dark path of destruction and chaos and there’s not a damn broom or vacuum thing I can do about it.

This is my day.

A͎ D͎a͎y͎ i͎n͎ t͎h͎e͎ L͎i͎f͎e͎ o͎f͎ t͎h͎e͎ M͎o͎t͎h͎e͎r͎ o͎f͎ a͎n͎ A͎d͎d͎i͎c͎t͎

Photo by Rakicevic Nenad on Pexels.com

Hi Santa

Hi Santa

Hi Santa,

Nice to see you again.

Have you been quarantined?

Oh you are always quarantined? For 11 months?

Well I’m glad you decided to show up this crazy year.

Have I been a good girl?

Well, that’s debatable. What do I want for Christmas you say?

I thought you’d never ask.

I want to wake up with anticipation in my loins.

I want to be excited about something again.

I don’t want to dread turning on the news. Or getting on social media. All those motivating quotes I usually see–only turn to arguing in the comments.

I had someone block me today because of my political beliefs. Even though we had a connection in the unfortunate club of moms of addicts; our love for recovery didn’t matter in the face of hate for a political party.

I don’t want that anymore Santa 🎅

Peace on earth is pretty cliche’ to say but we need it desperately right now.

Oh and while you’re sprinkling that pixie peace dust all over -could you just go ahead and take every craving for drugs and alcohol out of every cell in my sons body? And every other suffering addict right now too. That’s what I want.

Should I do what Burt Reynolds did in the 1978 movie The ENd?

“If only you’ll grant me this one wish…….”

But really, let’s do this.

I’m glad we had this talk Santa.

Safe travels!

ƛ͙ Ɗ͙ƛ͙Ƴ͙ Ɩ͙Ɲ͙ Ƭ͙Ӈ͙Є͙ LƖ͙Ƒ͙Є͙ Oᖴ ᗩ ᗰOᗰ Oᖴ ᗩ ᑭEᖇSOᑎ ᗯITᕼ ᗩ SᑌᗷSTᗩᑎᑕE ᑌSE ᗪISOᖇᗪEᖇ

If You Really Want to Help Me

If you really want to help me, learn all you can about my disease. Let me know you ᑕᗩᖇE.  Listen to my fears.

Ask me how I’m feeling without giving solutions. Don’t remind me of how I’m constantly screwing everything up. Trust me I know.

Let me know that this life, these drugs ᗪO ᑎOT ᗪEᖴIᑎE  ᗰE

Let me know without a doubt that there’s a ᗷETTEᖇ ᗯᗩY & that I don’t have to live in constant struggle.

Tell me ademently & Without a Doubt that I ᗩᗰ ᑕᗩᑭᗩᗷᒪE of climbing out of the tunnel of darkness.

Assure me that there’s ᒪIGᕼT outside and I have the skills to find it again, no matter what lies go around in my head.

Most of all tell me I deserve to be happy and fulfilled again. I deserve to be ᖇESᑭEᑕTEᗪ & TᖇᑌSTEᗪ
again. And that there is ᕼᗩᑭᑭIᑎESS without drugs.

Mostly though:

Just ᒪOᐯE ᗰE TIᒪᒪ I’ᗰ ᗰE ᗩGᗩIᑎ💙

© Samanthawaters

Trauma Blocking

What the heck? Never heard this term before but when I came across a local recovery group Addict to Athlete’s IG Checklist for it, it sounded vaguely familiar.

It sounds like stress.

Life, ya know? Trying to get through the day. Or the week.

Don’t we all mindlessly scroll on social media and the next thing you know it’s been an hour? Some of us celebrate Friday with a glass of wine.🍷

Boredom eating, the feeling that you SHOULD be doing something when you have a few minutes free time.

It really comes down to what expectations have groomed us into thinking that we NEED ѕoмeтнιng elѕe. Something more….

Tony Robbins used to call it variety- the need for the unknown, change, or new stimuli as part of the 6 basic human needs: you can read it here:

Uncertainty, Variety

(I’m sure he made a hellofalot more money than Maslow by adding an EXTRA need! But that’s neither here nor there) -ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴇsᴛɪɴɢʟʏ, ᴡʜᴇɴ ɪ ғᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴠɪᴅᴇᴏ- ᴛᴏɴʏ ᴡᴀs ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇɢɪɴɴɪɴɢ ᴀᴅ..

This variety /boredom/ thing fascinates me because with any excessive behavior that STARTS with these “Trauma Blocking” behaviors they soon become so out of control that everyone involved is just wishing & begging to go back to that “boring” life.

Watch any movie or documentary on cheating or murdering a lover or spouse and you’ll see that their lies and their sins seemed to start from a place of boredom or opportunity.

So how to avoid starting these “blocking” behaviors that just lead to trouble?

I outlined a few ways in this blog on Checkpoints -by basically keeping ourselves accountable- to stay ” safe” if you will.

The other thing this list brought to mind was what constitutes a “trauma”? Some people insist they had a great childhood without too many upheavals yet they have poor insight into why they have such a horrible and quick temper as an adult.

I think of someone, somewhere telling the inner child of this person that their feelings aren’t valid so they learn that somehow rage or anger or impatience will help them feel validated. Somehow.

I guess because it makes people stand at attention or react which makes the angry one feel in control, respected even. Those of us who have lived with such a person know that’s not the case though. Respect flies out the window when one acts like a jerk..lol.

I’m not a therapist, but I am a nurse👩‍⚕️ and one thing we do as nurses is validate the patient. If they’re mad at the doctor, we are the peace-makers. (I know you really wanted to talk to him but Monday mornings he has alot of rounds to go to- he will be here soon. Meanwhile- what can I do for you?)

As mother’s, we know all about manipulative validation. “I know you’re tired, but just pick up all your toys, eat dinner, do homework, have a bath THEN you can sleep!”

I know, all these things need to be done, but how many times do we SHOW kids that their feelings aren’t valid? Or correct for the situation by trying to get them to think the way we do?

“Honey I know yourt mad at your brother for stealing your toys but how would you like it if he hit you?

This says,: “your anger is misplaced, you have to THiNk about OTHERs BEFORE you get all crazy.”

I guess depending on what era you raised your kids and what parenting model you followed, this may or may not be correct.

In hindsight, and in conclusion; the things that we do on a daily or weekly basis to comfort ourselves are very real and very needed to stay emotionally healthy.

It’s the oldest best advice I heard growing up, MODERATION IN ALL THiNGS that may be the key to keeping these behaviors in check, whether we think we are covering up some hidden “trauma” or not.

By creating the time and space to look at ourselves and the affect we may be having on others, we might be able to ward off behaviors that leach into addictive ones that will eventually harm us and the people closest to us.

©Samanthawaters

A Deep Dive

Before I discovered Addiction so intimately within my own family,  I would have written off this Video as just another religious kook.

But when you are dropped to your knees with such utter powerless & deep despair, you find yourself seeking out a God, any God- real fast.  The sheer pain & fear along with the loss of someone you love dearly Even though that person is still alive, is humbling to say  the least.

After basically going through the 5 stages of grief with the loss of this relationship, you start to actually have some compassion for them. Or at least I did…..or do. That s kindof where I am now.

My son. I miss the son I remember & love sooooo much. And even though I’m incredibly grateful that he is still breathing, the son I know & knew is not available right now.

He has an out to lunch sign on the door.

When I finally came to the realization that my adult child isn’t the sweet, innocent perfect person I had held onto believing for so long, I was devastated.

So to watch that passionate Addict turned evangelist video tell me that in God’s eyes they ARE! It was refreshingly freeing!

They ARE still worthy!

They ARE still loved immensely! And the biggest blessing Is that they CAN CHANGE at ANY time!

Hope.

HOPE is a wonderful thing.

It’s all we got really.

Having a bad day? Hope gives you a new day tomorrow.

I’ve heard addicts say that is what they lacked the most( & needed from people) more than anything was hope. Because their illness tells them that it’s too late, they’re too far gone, why try anymore. Just get high and numb out then everything will be ok.

I am hoping that I can begin  to have this kind of Christlike compassion for my boy and other addicts. Even when they don’t ACT as if they should deserve any mercy, they are still human beings having a horrible existence right now. Having to lie, cheat, steal to support a stupid evil powerful drug that has held them hostage for way too long.

Jesus is always available. If only we would seek HIM.

I can’t imagine losing your mind that way, your Freedom, your family, everything you once cared about to become a slave to a THING.

Can you imagine the freedom, the love, the sheer JOY of being saved? Of having that hope spread through your body with more power than any Evil drug? Can you imagine how that would feel?

Consider the powerful artist painting above by Stephen Sawyer. It’s titled “Calvary”; meaning “it’s a pain that we associate with not only great sorrow but great victory.”

One interpretation in THIS article states that at this point the addict isn’t feeling any pain but it hurts Jesus when we hurt ourselves.”

He wanted to demonstrate that “When you’ve done it unto the least of these, you’ve done it unto me.” In my past religious teaching I would have taken this as a ” oh well then it’s too late, I’m worthless because I have sinned against God & his son. But isn’t that the whole point of Calvary?

The artist went on to say “The Temple of God is within you …and … IF WE ALLOW IT – we can create a magnificent home for the Presence of God in our lives.”

I think there are many ways to interpret the message, one being that Jesus will take all our pain away if we only reach out.

Please pray for ALL who are suffering. 🙏

God bless us all.

©Samanthawaters