God is in the House-- my son's continuing drama

It amazes me how fast time flies, once you hit the 50-plus milestone in your years of living.  Last week, I began to post a series on my son's life-- and now, it's been almost a week since I've blogged here.  I've set aside comments from readers that I want to personally respond to, and I hope that I can get to them this week. My husband and I are on vacation, this week.  My school closes for one week for Fall and Spring Break, and for two weeks for Winter Break.  It's hard to believe that it was one year ago that C and I were enjoying a long-overdue honeymoon in Kauai.  That's when I blogged about my dream that my son was using again.One year ago, my son was in the tailspin of a relapse that would result in his second stay at his Treatment Center, in Northern California. That part of the story will be detailed in Part III of my son's life-- to come.

But, for this weekend, my son's drama hit another wall. B is still working at the golf course. He's working seven days a week, for a total of 56 hours a week. He is not being paid overtime, and receives no benefits. Woman of integrity that I strive to be, I know this is illegal.  It makes me mad that companies take advantage of young people who desperately need a job. I advised my son to hang on to every single pay stub. I told him that once he quits that job (or gets fired, which seems to be his lot in life) that he can go to the labor board and file a claim.  I feel that my son should not be taken advantage of, like this, but I also think companies like this should not get away with it. In the meantime, B will earn enough money, if he stays clean, to pay rent and afford the bare essentials of life. At least B is working so much, that he can't find time to use. End of soap box on that topic.

B's new hours mean that he needs to be at work at 6:30am-10:30am. He has a split shift, where he returns to work at 3:00pm and leaves at 7pm.  B asked if I could give him a ride to work 2 out of the 5 days, because his car still isn't fixed. Reluctantly, I agreed to do it. In the end, this gave me 15 minutes in the car with him to talk.

As I feared, his roommate situation is not a good one. "M" is a dark soul.  His father is an ex-con and an alcoholic. While "M" was living out-of-state with his father, B told me some terrible stories about M's life. Essentially, M and his father would drink every day and steal tools to pay for their lifestyle. Me, being someone who is shocked at that kind of lifestyle blurted out "then, why did you pick him as a roommate?!"
As soon as I asked that question, I already knew it was a stupid question. B's time was running out to find a place because he could no longer live with us. "M" got kicked out of his mom's house and the two found each other.

The Drama:

So, the drama begins on Saturday night. At 11:45pm the phone rang, and we were sound asleep. Already, most of you know how foreboding those kinds of calls are... it was B, asking me if I he could spend the night at my house. He said that M was so drunk, he was smashing the walls, vomiting in the apartment and threatening to "f--k" up my son.  I had flashbacks to his former roommate, when B lived in Benicia.  If you want to read about that drama (which is familiar with this current one, click here).  I decided to go and get him, since he's 10 minute's drive away.  I don't think C was thrilled that I got dressed and went to rescue him. It's what mother's do! B was waiting for me, in his PJ's and a bag of laundry (which I told him to bring).

B was shaken and upset.  I listened to his story and I felt so sad for my son. B said "what is wrong with me?"  Addiction and your addict friends, is what I said... I gave B the 10 second rules-- no drugs? Check. No smoking cigarettes in the house. Check. No going in and out of the house, during the night. Check. Be quiet as a mouse. Check.

I slept, sporadically, checking in on my son. He sleeps like the dead-- mouth open, snoring and very hard to wake up. I woke him up to change his laundry and returned to bed.

At 5:30am-- my first day of vacation, and waiting to sleep in-- I woke him up and drove him to work.

B said something to me that I wanted to share-- he said he slept really well in my home because it felt like a Christian home. He said he could feel that God was in the house.  I like that.

B says he's clean, now, almost three weeks. All I can do is hope he is being honest with himself.

Joshua 24:15 (New International Version)

¹⁵ But if serving the LORD seems undesirable to you, then choose for yourselves this day whom you will serve, whether the gods your forefathers served beyond the River, or the gods of the Amorites, in whose land you are living. But as for me and my household, we will serve the LORD."

I offered to pick B up at 10:30am so he could come back, finish his laundry and nap.  We stopped at his apartment, so B could get more laundry. He showed me his bloody pillows and bedding, where M had smashed his head and passed out on it. Nice....   B said that M had called, earlier that morning, crying and saying that had no recollection of what happened.  B also tells me that M is a thief (no kidding) and he thinks that's who stole his wallet with $300.00 in it-- a few months ago. He said that M took 10 of his subs and sold them!  All I can do is listen, grit my teeth and pray silently for M. 

One year ago, B's former alcoholic roommate ended up throwing my son out of their apartment. A shot himself in the head, probably a few days later, and his body was found weeks later. 

This is the craziness of my son's life.  I try not to worry and obsess about it. My son and I had some good talks, yesterday. He said that he feels our relationship has come a long way in one year. He says he feels he tell me anything-- and he tells me everything-- because I don't lecture him or freak out. I do, but inside.

I picked B up from work, last night, with his clean bedding and laundry.  He said that he missed me, and living in our home. He hugged me and gave me a kiss on his cheek. I told him that the rest of this week that I would not be available to be his chauffeur.  B is supposed to tow his car, today, to the repair shop.

At 4am, a storm hit us-- strong winds and rain. I silently prayed that my son found a ride to work. Otherwise, he'd have to walk our miles in this weather. For a moment, I wanted to get up and go get him. Then, I gave it to God... my son must learn to find his own way. I bought my son a water-proof raincoat as an early birthday gift, yesterday. At least he has something to wear, I thought...and I drifted back to sleep.

Thank you, all of you who say you admire my courage and my strength.  I have highlighted this Psalm in my bible, because it explains where my strength comes from:

Psalm 18 (New King James Version)

¹ I love you, O LORD, my strength.

 ² The LORD is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer;
       my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge.
       He is my shield and the horn ^[a] of my salvation, my stronghold.

 ³ I call to the LORD, who is worthy of praise,
       and I am saved from my enemies.

³¹ For who is God, except the LORD?
         And who is a rock, except our God?
 ³² It is God who arms me with strength,
         And makes my way perfect.
 ³³ He makes my feet like the feet of deer,
         And sets me on my high places.
 ³⁴ He teaches my hands to make war,
         So that my arms can bend a bow of bronze.