Wednesday, June 3, 2009

Interesting Day

Actually, it started yesterday when I got the mail. A letter came addressed to my son, and I opened it. Maybe I shouldn't have, but I did. It was from a lawyer of a big box store, stating that due to an incident on such and such date, he could send $300 and no legal action would take place, etc... My heart sank. Even though I knew. I knew he was shoplifting. Part of me was proud that it didn't ruin and keep me up all night like it would have in the past. What it did, was make me amp up my prayers for him. Who would think I could pray even more than I already do...

So, today at work, a client and I were sharing stories and she made the comment, "Your son will be fine- I just know it." She's never met him, nor does she know full details. But after our conversation I felt lighter somehow, if that makes sense. It's almost like her optimism and faith rubbed off on me. I realize that I still struggle with holding out hope, yet expecting the worst. Push and Pull.

Shortly after arriving home from work, one of our tenants dropped by to pay his rent. He was my son's roommate for a few months. He's from out of state, so he didn't know my son till he moved in, but it was shortly after that we told my son he had to leave as he couldn't pay rent. So, this guy knows my son's story. Anyway he asked how son was doing and wondered if we'd heard from him lately. I filled him in on my hospital stay and how son visited me there. He said that my son is such a good person and he just knows that he'll pull out of this and be okay. Again, it gave me that uplifting feeling just to hear those words.

Now, hubby and I are having dinner. Son #2 is at work, so it's just the two of us. House phone rings, we dont' answer it, as we are up to our elbows in artichokes and deep conversation. I was, in fact, telling him how I felt like I had "signs" today that our son would be okay. He usually teases me about thinking everything I come across is a sign! In the next room, my cell phone starts ringing. Again, we let it go...

After dinner I check my cell. We don't have caller ID on the house phone, but of course I do on my cell. There was no voice mail. So, I called the number back and some young man answers. He asks if I'm (sons) Mom. I tell him yes and he said that he's a friend and just saw son. He pulled over to talk with him, and he told son that he'd take him to our house if son wanted. Son said yes! I CANNOT BELIEVE THAT I DIDN'T ANSWER THOSE CALLS!! Since we didn't answer, he didn't give son a ride, because in case we weren't home- this friend was not able to have son at his house (understandable). He did say that he and son planned to get together tomorrow and hang out, and if that does happen- he said he'd have son call us. This friend said the same thing as the others, what a great person son is and "we" need to just reel him back in and get him off that stuff. He didn't mean us, just meant it's what we'd all love to see happen. I told this friend to please keep my number in his contacts and I made it clear to him how much we love our son and will support him in recovery 100%, when he chooses it.

I know that my son calling could mean several different things. It doesn't necessarily mean that he was calling for help. But, maybe, just maybe, he's getting to the end of his rope- nearing his bottom- and is starting to slowly reach out- ?

I can hope....


  1. I'm here hoping with you.

  2. Wow, I see signs in this day too! I am hoping and praying also!

  3. ((((Chailatte))))
    Sitting and waiting with you dear!

  4. We have a whole pile of those letters. Eventually they stop coming.

  5. i never got one of those letters, i just stayed in jail until my time was up. i have hope too, i say a prayer every night for the still suffering addict. hope gives us strength when we feel we can't do it on our own. hope is amazing keep hope alive he will be OK. he has you for a mother.

  6. One can hope...I will be praying.

  7. sigh,
    i am sorr you are hurting.. i am praying dear one.

    Brother Frankie
    A Biker for Christ