A dad of a recovering daughter wrote to me, Relapse is sometimes harder than the initial experience of discovering your child is an addict. The hope you build one day – one hour – at a time as she was in recovery disintegrates into grains of despair. This time around, both of you are a little wiser at the game. In all that wisdom, though, the pain, the hurt, never eases. You feel the individual grains of hope in your hands, and you find faith in them. They are tired, weak, but as long as these grains exist so does your hope.
My reflection: Relapse was a steady thief during my son’s fourteen-year addiction. Just when I thought he had changed his life and shown great fortitude in making healthy choices, the floor fell out and down he went. Over and over, relapse slapped us in the face.
Today’s Promise to consider: Hope finds its strength in the heart, not the brain. With addiction, the events often spell disaster, and I found that only love could combat my despair. My younger son once asked, “Momma, how will you end the story about Jeff?” I admitted, “I don’t know, Jer. It’s not my story to end.” His answer was clear, “But that’s the point. We don’t know what will happen to Jeff, but no one can ever take away our hope. You have to end the story in hope.”