He found his way to a local hospital just yesterday after months of smoking crack. He lost a good job, forgot he has a five-year-old son and was homeless and sleeping behind a convenience store in the winter.
His addiction is like a hurricane sweeping through our lives, destroying and uprooting everything in its path. Over time I have learned that when the winds begin to blow, I board the windows of my mind and heart, disconnect the phones and hunker down for the storm to come. The wind builds and there is nowhere to hide. Each time I pray this will be the last, but it repeats, teases and taunts. I get a glimpse of blue sky only for it to be quickly replaced by black clouds again.
“Please let me come home,” he says.
“No,” I answer.
“I just want to come home. Why won’t you let me come home?”
Just as I love the rain and the softness of a warm breeze, I love my son.
Just as I hate the torrential downpour, the gale-force wind and mindless destroyer, I hate the addiction that has taken my son.
Today’s Promise to Consider: Relapse suffocates hope and faith, but I know that the decision to stop using has to come from the addict directly. It is a personal choice, not a family choice. I can the hate the addiction, but I will love my son. I will continue to believe.