The Swing

Swinging

Up…Down

Back…and forth

Ever moving…never stopping…

Not even 24 hours, Lord…

Twenty-four hours

And life goes from good

To bad

Again

Drama

Good grief!

The drama

Again

Family night

So sweet

Uncomplicated

Love and laughter abounding

Our prodigal came

Conversed

Communicated

Communed

With the family

Came early

Stayed late

Helped with dishes

Watched the football game

An air of calm

I reflected this morning

Formed full, joyful

In my mama belly

Maybe….

Just maybe

Progress forward

Not back

This time

Moving slowly

Through my day

Costco list in hand

I shop

Driving home, it happens

A text message

The tone on the phone

Pronouncing the Prodigal

“I’m at the hospital, Mom”

“…blacked out and fell”

“ankles bad…cut on leg”

“Waiting for the doctor now”

“Please pray, Mom…”

The start

In my heart

The beating breast bone

Anticipating the worst

I gather myself

Self-talk begins

“Think it through”

The voices caution

I talk to the Coach

My daughter calls

More texts received

And my world spins

No preemptive call

No counsel sought from us

Only after decisions have been made

We’re invited in

To the drama

Restrained

I proceed

Only offering concern

And, yes, prayer

I stay put

I wait

I wonder

I pray

Later I learn

Occasional blackouts for 6 months

Vertigo?

This the worst

Cat-scan clear

Broken fibula in two or three places

Admitting him

To run more tests

The Intern

An old friend of his

The Prodigal comes clean

About his addictions…

Or so he says

My mind wanders

All these drugs

What damage have they done

The present meds

The harm…

Hours go by

Tests are run

Calls are made

Commitments honored

Admitted to the hospital

An overnight stay

Doctors concerned

As to why he blacked out

Prodigal Papa goes to visit

The Coach, too

And then

Me

I see him

Sad…forlorn…discouraged

Laying upon his hospital bed

My son

His man-body

So large

Leg wrapped and propped

On pillows

His face

Hung low

His expression

Taking me back

To the boy-body

Where a mama’s kiss

Could “fix it” all

Internally I weep

Externally I smile

Words of encouragement

I ask of his need

“Pray for me, Mom”

My heart heaves heavy

“Can I pray for you, now”

“Yes…please”

I lean low

Holding his hand

The words a jumble

Of thoughts muttered

With “amen,” a tear escapes

I squeeze his hand

“I had 6 weeks, Mom”

“I was really doing good”

The flood threatens

To pour forth waves

The tears of anguish

Dammed up

Threatening to break through

“I know son,” I say 

As I see

The IV hanging over his head

Filled with the poison

That brought us to this place

This time in space place

These “pain-killers”

Just that

But more

They kill…destroy…devastate

The double-edged sword for those with addiction

They hold our family captive

For ransom

With their power

To control, deceive

Weapons of the enemy

I cry out

As David did

Pleading…petitioning

“My God, my God why have you forsaken me?” 
“Forsaken Us?”

No booming thunder

No burning bush

No gentle whisper

Nothing

Answerless….I leave

My boy-man

Alone

To work out his pain…his progress…his plight

I grieve

My pillow fills with tears

As I lay my head

And whimper “why”