August 27th

A new day…a new week.

He is safe…a relative word

He has moved into a new sober living home.

He called Prodigal Papa and his sister 

to let them know he had landed yesterday.

Never calls me.  Never says good-bye.  My Mama’s heart yearns to know why.  

To understand what I’ve done to be shunned each and every time the Prodigal goes down.  

Will he ever understand the love I have for him?  

The love that only a mama knows?

A new chapter opens.

The same story.

New characters?  How will it all play out?  Only time will tell.

How did he get in?  You have to be clean to do so.  Saw the psychiatrist…got meds…a new way to get clean?  To stay clean.  Always another substance.  Another way. 

But seemingly never The Way.

He knows the Truth…the Way…and the Light.  

He was raised with it.  He was modeled it.  He lived it once.  

But he runs.  

The other way.

Prodigal Papa and Mama took a Sabbath rest yesterday.  

We strolled the streets of a nearby island.  

Basked in the sun…breathed the sea….and committed to walk forward.  

To take baby-steps toward healing.  

Once again.

To leave our son in the hands of the True Prodigal Father.  

The One Who knows him best.

The experts say there are stages of grief.  Some say five…others 7.  Pressed…I could find more.  

As times before…I move through them.  

Weaving as the Spirit moves my soul.  

Allowing the emotions to wash me…clean me….move me.  

To move on...

Denial

Pain and Guilt

Anger and Bargaining

Depression, Reflection, Loneliness

The upward Turn

                        Reconstruction and WorkingThrough

                                     Acceptance and Hope

I walk forward.  One day at a time.  One baby step at a time.