Life’s journeys can start out in fun anticipation of what adventures lie ahead. But sometimes we get in over our heads quickly and instead of turning back, get lost in the maze of unhealthy habits and practices. Everywhere we look, all we see is more tightrope-walking. The thin line between risk and pleasure. The little nagging thought that it will be ok. Just one more time.
I was with my grandkids at this rope park on Saturday and immediately thought of the comparison to life.
We all know that battling addiction is a roller coaster ride, especially for those who are on the sidelines watching is devastating effects. We can be on top of the world, thinking everything is fine; then be dropped to the ground in despair. Instead of butterflies in our stomachs, we have what feels like rocks. Heavy and sad. As I played on these ropes, I realized how far the tentacles and mazes that my son’s addiction have reached.
I also realized how strong the anchors are that are holding it all together. Anchors that can't be seen from all angles.
Whether you’re stuck in addiction, or watching from the sidelines, you might be stretching, reaching for the next rope to hold on to. In doing so, you have to have a certain amount of faith that those anchors will hold your weight. You just have to believe.
In this moment, after years, of crying out in pain, day after day- with the twists and turns of addiction; I finally made it through a maze of ropes to the other side. For now. My son was finally picked up on his warrants on August 17. On Aug 22, while in jail, he said his life was over and there was no way he could bounce back. He said he had no choice but to hang himself. I was able to get the medical personnel to listen to the tapes and place him in safety.
2 months later- last week- my 35 yr old son, with a bullet hole scar in his leg; called me from a non-descript rehab in a bit of tapered excitement. He’s been put in charge of all new admits. He shows them around and assigns them a bunk and their chores. He has to keep track of them and notify staff if they “run”. It’s a huge responsibility.
The relief, the gratitude, the honor, the pride.
The hope forged from faith.
Day after day of earnest prayer.
Tears falling in want.
Tears, turned to joy.
The knowing that we are not in charge.
I say this knowing full well that things can change in an instant.
But I will still rejoice in faith.
My sincere message for today is how important it was that I spoke healing over my situation and problems. It’s ok to feel sad and disappointed at times, but to them- and all involved, it’s more beneficial to speak hope, instead of complaining like we are prone to do. I did my fair share of that, so I know it’s easier said than done, but it gets easier to speak hope instead of disgust to them.
We are not promised even one more day ourselves! So always leave them knowing that you loved them the best you could despite the horrors of this disease.
Today I relish in joy.
Joy in the journey of this boy.
I’m so glad I’m here to witness it because many times I wished to be gone.