I picked up my son’s belongings today, and was overwhelmed with sadness when I saw that everything he owns fits into two boxes. He turns 30 this year, and all of his belongings fit into TWO BOXES. I just can’t take it in. Those two boxes that sit in my shed represent the terrible toll that addiction takes on people’s lives. It is insidious and merciless.
I still haven’t talked to him because I can’t call and request to talk to him at the jail, so I have to wait for him to call me. The fact that he hasn’t called me speaks volumes about his emotional state right now. I spoke with a pastor who has visited him, and he told me that my son is an emotional wreck. Now that he is no longer high, he is realizing the huge mistake he made, and is embarrassed and in despair. He is looking at a possibility of 20 years in prison. As he was growing up, a hug and a Band-Aid would fix almost anything, but nothing can fix this. I’m heartbroken about his relapse, and I want nothing more than to hug him and take his pain away. I plan to go visit him on Monday, but the most I’ll be able to do when I see him is look at him through glass as I talk to him on the phone. It is a helpless feeling.
Even as I struggle with my weakness, my faith will not be shaken. The Lord will help my son and I get through this. Evil may have won this round, but it will not win the war.