Before I launch into today's episode of "How the Drug World Turns", I need to refresh who
The Cast of Characters for those of you who are just now tuning in...
B = my son, age 21
M = my son's roommate, since September 5th, until November 29th, 2009...not quite 3 months. Alcoholic, former oxy addict, but now freebasing and IV use of heroin. Bipolar, not taking meds, age 24. Split from my son's apartment, but still on the lease with all of his belongings still in the apartment. Paid 80% of his share of December rent. M has a jail record-- not clear exactly for what.
C = my son's most recent "best friend"; they've known each other since middle school. Age 21.
D = "platonic girlfriend" of "M". Moved into my son's apartment the same night that "M" split to go into a 5 month rehab, locally. Now, she's on the lam from the law.
Mom = Me. Age 54. Happily remarried, God-loving mom. Full-time employee. Struggling to not be an enabler to my son, but hampered by a devoted love for him.
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So, my son calls me just as I'm getting out of church. "D" showed up at his apartment at 2am. For reasons I cannot fathom, B opens the door.
Pause. Why, do you wonder, would anyone open the door at 2am? My son is a night owl, just like his friends. He says he couldn't see, and he thought it was a friend. Duh.
In bursts D and two guys. They want to know what B told the cops about the home invasion on B's best friend "C". B tells her he only said she's not there anymore. He knows nothing. They turned over his two pieces of furniture and stole his money on his nightstand ($40.00). They threatened that if he talked to the cops they would F him up really bad.
Now, what is a mother to think? I'm angry. I just left church after listening to how Christians need to practice grace. That is, accepting a person, despite their behavior. I'm seeing red. B says he hasn't been harmed, but he sounds really bummed.
"When is this all going to stop?", he wonders out loud.
Well, duh. It will finally stop when you quit associating with this kind of scum. Get out!
I say this to B, and he glumly agrees.
Now, before anyone says this-- could my son be lying about this? Could he be making this up so I give him $40.00? No. He didn't ask me for money. Sadly, I can just feel that my son is telling me the sordid truth.
I live in a city that has had 27 murders since January 1st. Just 10 minutes away, by car-- outside my gated community-- is the East side where the Norteno and Sureno gang members are holding the city hostage. Shootings are happening in broad daylight. The news always says they are gang related. Witnesses won't come forward. It is said that when a local police officer arrests a gang member, the member will spew out the name of the cop's wife and kids. That's how bad it is!
What's my point? My son will not call the cops and tell them. He says that if he does, D will find out and he'll end up stabbed or shot. What's so sad is that he's telling the truth. I cannot bail my son out, and that's even sadder. By that, I cannot move my son out of his apartment. I can only pray that my son will look over his shoulder and not be stupid enough to open doors. I'll buy him a chain lock, but he just needs to learn common sense. Where he's living is in a fairly decent area. It's right behind where I buy my groceries. It's a huge apartment complex and there have been some crimes.
B was supposed to come over to do laundry...maybe help decorate the house. Instead, he says he wants to clean up the apartment and put things back together. He'll call me later. He assures me that he's okay.
I hang up the phone, close my eyes and I pray with such anger. I pray that D will get busted. I go so far as to envision me pounding her face in until it's pulp. I cannot believe my anger! I have never hit a person in my life. It's not my nature. But, I'm angry. I feel almost as angry as the night my son comes home after being attacked, kicked in the head with steel-toed boots when he was carjacked.
No matter what, I cannot bear the thought of my son being harmed. It makes me crazy.
I take a shower, and I talk to God. I'm praying that God will take away my anger and I thank God for protecting my son. For whatever reason, my son has been spared more times than I can count for his transgressions. That's the power of God's love, I believe
The phone rings. It's B.
"OhmyGod...", he drawls.
Oh, no, now what? B asks if I have the Sunday paper. Yes, but not my city local paper. I don't like it. I start to search the internet, but today's issue isn't uploaded yet.
He tells me that C was looking at 25 years to life for selling oxycontin (I talk about this episode here). He says that C ratted out every single source of oxycontin.
Then, I remember... on Friday, on the morning news, I saw mug shots of four our five men who were arrested for dealing oxycontin. I remember thinking "good". I thought of my son, who once sold that drug, and never got caught. (This I don't say with glee, but with thankfulness that he doesn't do this anymore).
B tells me that C has a hit out on him. He heard that C is as good as dead, if "they" find him. He ratted out the big dealers and he was stupid, B is saying. B sounds upset and concerned for C. Now, now... I don't feel that kind of compassion for C. It's just that I know C! I've known him for many years!
Then B pauses. He says, "I guess if I was looking at that much time, I guess I would have, too".
In a way, I'm glad this has happened. In a big way, anytime I hear that a dealer goes down, I'm thrilled. One victory is one step forward in the war against drugs. I feel bad for C's family. They're good people. B says that his family is in big danger. I hate to say it, but it's probably true.
Somewhere in my own city is a girl named "D". She is evil. I am praying, with all of my heart, that she will go down. I am praying that B's former heroin source will go down. I'm praying that the people of my community will finally say "enough" and stop allowing these gangs to control our city.
Only 25 miles from where I live, is one of the most famous tourist cities in the world. If I said the name, and mentioned the tourist attractions and the celebrities who owns home here, you would not believe that this is going on just a 30 minute drive away. I live in a part of California that has this dirty little secret.
Somehow, someway, my son got sucked into the darkness of my community. It all started with a pill, that made my son feel good inside...
Deep down inside my son, there was a pain that was longing to be healed by a drug.
Deep down inside my son's heart, was a void in his life. He had forgotten that only our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, could fill it. My son fell into The Dark One's pit of darkness and the Accuser has not let my son go.
Methadone. Suboxone. Treatment Centers. 12-Step Programs...
Not any of these can be as powerful as God's healing touch. I believe this with all of my heart, with all of my soul, with all of my being.
My son's journey to peace and sobriety is waiting for him, and the Lord is waiting for him. There is no pill on earth that can heal the beast within that holds us hostage. I am praying that my son will be set free by the Grace and Love of God.