...We battle too, for men...

From my favorite poem Bread and Roses:
"As we come marching marching,
We battle too, for men
For they are women's children
And we'll mother them again."

It’s been nearly three weeks since the confrontation. Why am I always so surprised at how much difference time can make? Thankfully, there was no yelling, no denial. It seemed he was relieved at being found out. What had been an every-now-and-then thing had snowballed into a full on binge that was out of control. I had been afraid of the truths that would come to light but am so comforted to find he had not ventured that far down the rabbit hole. The journey out of the hole and into the light was not a hard one. A couple days of sleeplessness and anxiety while his body detoxed was all it took.

Now, I feel that I have my son back. It has not been all happy, happy; there has been attitude, a little passive aggression to deal with and pleading to let up on the punishment but for the most part it has been better all around. There has been more talking, more communication and a lot more hugs and connections.  I am so relieved and thankful but will not let down my guard. Hope for the best, prepare for the worst. Walking the line between gracious love and unyielding principal is so hard to do but me and my husband have managed to do it so far. And together

For reasons only God knows, He has shown me the situations of a couple of friends. The first is a dear friend who is fighting the battle of her son’s addiction. He has sadly gone far, far down the rabbit hole and does not want to leave. It breaks my heart knowing her pleas and struggles. I also looked up an old friend from grade school, found her blog and read it from beginning to end as she poured out her heart over the loss of her son from suicide. She is facing the one year anniversary of his death on Christmas day. She is overcome with paralyzing pain, immense anger and guilt. I have cried and prayed. I am still praying.

Why did I find all this out? Why now? I feel that God brought all this to my attention for a reason but not sure why. If nothing else, I have been faithful and have covered my children, and other’s children in a deluge of prayer. And I want to cry out to those who have cute, sweet toddlers to prepare their hearts to possibly be broken by their children. But I’ll be silent until it happens and hopefully I can be a rock for someone who needs it.