Raw

Naked.  Exposed.  Raw. 

Vulnerable.  Uncomfortable.  Breathless.

Emotions of the day

Such good intentions for moving forward.

A quick trip to the market.

A chance meeting with a friend

…in the frozen aisle between the peas and the corn.

A man that is dear to our family…a mentor to my hubby

…a shepherd to us all.

He has been with us through thick and thin

From the very beginning

With this Prodigal of ours.

Praying, guiding, directing.

He, too, faces a mighty challenge.

A wife with terminal cancer.

Fighting the effects of chemo…struggling to make sense of it all

He speaks encouragement into me…and I to him

I wonder at it all

The heartache in so many households

Oh…To mourn with those who mourn.

As I drive home

The floodgates burst

I weep wet with sunglasses hiding the glare of sadness

I rally...family dinner night

The phone rings

A mother like myself…

But not.

Her prodigal is dead.   Has been for 7 years.

An accidental overdose 

She tells in detail the road they traveled

The journey they took

The story that is theirs.

And as always…

I wonder…

Will this be our story?

Our next chapter?

She has taken her sadness and poured into a work

For others that find themselves in this situation.

She, like me, desperate to save others from the sorrow.

We talk and decide that we may be able to help each other with our separate causes.

As we near the end of our conversation, she mentions another neighborhood mama in pain.  

One that wants to help.  

Pour into for the benefit of others.

She says her name.

I freeze.

A mother and son that I know from elementary school.

One that, quite honestly, posed problems.

My son didn’t like him and neither did I.

His ADD and behavior wrinkled our lives.

My pride said,

“he’ll be a troubled one, for sure.”

“My son, is a good kid.”  “Doesn’t need to be around him.”

Writing these words make me cringe.

The truth hurts.

Oh my pride.  My self-righteousness.

The shame I feel.

Reality is not based on perceived belief.

I’ve learned…

some ‘bad’ ones make bad choices

Some ‘bad’ ones make good choices

Some ‘good’ ones make good choices

And some ‘good’ ones make bad choices.

Life is not black and white…

We live in a sinful world

At the root…we are all bad

But we all have choice

Yes…addiction is a disease

Genetic connections, without a doubt

Choice…ultimately the presiding factor

Of getting well

She mentions that she will pass my name and number along to this mama.

I die inside.

Raw. Shamed. Embarrassed. Vulnerable. Exposed.

I hang up

Wrung from the washer of truth

I weep wet and weary.

A text from a friend follows the phone call.

“I think I saw your son’s car in the neighborhood.”

“Are you expecting him?”

Heart reacts, stomach flip-flops.

Not expecting him

…wasn’t him.

Well meaning friends…trying to help.

Mama anguish seeps from my pores.

Family dinner

…missing one 

our Prodigal

Gaining one.

A sweet 1 year old present

…being fostered short-term by my daughter

Another innocent victim in this den of drug abuse

We eat…they leave

I crumble to pieces on the floor.

This addicition…this plague

Takes so many out in its fury