Saturday, July 21, 2012
While the news is filled with the horror of this tragic day, it is my birthday. I wake up feeling grateful to find birthday cards from my husband, my son, and my Facebook is filled with dozens of birthday wishes. I take a drive, on a beautiful sunny morning, to meet friends for brunch. I spend the rest of the day buying a few things for me-- things that I find "pretty". I can pay for them.
Later, that afternoon, my husband comes home from work and greets with me warm hugs and kisses-- tells me how lucky he is that I was born, so that I would come into his life. I tell him the same. He takes me to dinner for a prime rib dinner. He looks at me so lovingly, and I know that I am blessed.
Before we leave for dinner, my son comes out of his room, handsome and dressed in his freshly pressed white shirt, tie and black slacks. He's carefully polished his work shoes. He says "love you, mom" and grabs his car keys. He's headed to his job, that he really likes.
Life, in my corner of the world, goes on as normal. I forget about the tragedy in Aurora, because my own little world is filled with much happiness. I say a quiet prayer to God, thanking Him for all my blessings.
This morning, I receive an email from Ron, telling me that my blog was hijacked. What? Sure enough, my blog was redirected to some evil people. I won't even share their link, but it's a drug rehab site. Ah, but they don't know that I have a very smart husband. He's in the computer security field. I'm flapping around, with the veins in my neck bulging-- feeling completely violated.
We google and find out that other people are experiencing this. It's a "widget" that was installed long ago. But evil hackers know how to get into the widgets that are stored somewhere on a computer cloud. Behind the scenes, they sneakily add a redirect code-- and just like that, your blog is gone.
One by one, we look at the HTML code to each of my widgets. There it is. The evil culprit's code, that steals my blog address as soon as anyone lands on it. We delete the entire widget.
Well, I'm back. I received a few private emails telling me that they still read my blog, and I have helped to encourage them.
Thank you. Thank you for allowing me to bless your lives. I'm back. I'm not going anywhere.
Life throws us hurdles, and I am thankful to have the love of Jesus to help me dust myself off and go on. I pray for the people of Aurora, Colorado. I pray for the young man who did this evil stuff. I pray for the man's own parents, who must be devastated to know that their son turned people's lives apart with his unspeakable act.
This was not God's plan. There is so much evil in this world. People forget that this is where the Dark One dwells. His plan is to devour and destroy people. This is where those who are true believers in Christ knows, that there is a better place for us. I will get there when I leave this life. Until then, I'm a prayer warrior.
May God bring healing to those who need it most. Today. Now.
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
I have such a hard time to find the will to log on to this blog to write. It's like I'm paralyzed, and unable think of what I want to write about. Have I run out of things to say? Am I helping anyone?
My son's addiction is in "limbo". It's like, I'm holding my breath. It's been five months, now, that B isn't using. To say that I'm relieved, is an understatement.
I try to remain optimistic, and my son is a completely different person. I try not to "what if" my thoughts. I am living in the moment. My son is "normal". The friends he once used with are out of his life. When he isn't working, he's on his X-Box with his online gaming. He is on a very low dose of suboxone, and seeing his doctor on a regular basis. He says he has absolutely no thoughts or desire to use.
What prompted me to write is a comment that I received today:
I found your blog today. I'm 22 my story is very similar to your sons. Your blog is probably my moms thoughts. My mother and stepfather recently discovered my use. I've been addicted to opiates for 7 years, and I've hid it from most of my friends and family when they found out I said I was commited to quiting, but I wasnt. I quit for a couple days and relapsed. I relate to your sons lies and escapades. I just am having trouble seeing a life after this monster. I feel so empty and broken. I feel so bad for my mother and everything she goes through because of me. I dont know where to start but thanks to your blog I know I definetely want to start. I know I am not the daughter my parents dreamed of but maybe one day I can be
This knocked the emotional wind right out of me. How I wish I could give this young woman a warm and loving hug. How I wish my son could sit down, with her, and tell her what did and did not work for him.
I still receive private emails from parents whose hearts are breaking. It brings up feelings of sadness that I thought I had healed from.
I feel so helpless. I wish I had the gift of writing in such a way that I could give someone solid advice, or answers.
I'm just the mother of a drug addict. I'm a woman who leans on my faith in God, to give me the strength I need, when times are tough.
I used to blog here, several times a week. I had blogs I'd visit, and bloggers who would visit me to encourage me. Many of those bloggers are gone. I often wonder what happened.
Once in a while, I wonder-- is anyone reading this?
Then, I get a reader who leaves a comment about how I've touched them.
I'm here. I won't abandon my blog. I just don't have a whole lot to write about, because our life is "normal" and peaceful. Amen. I pray that I will never have to come here because I am afraid for my son-- because he has returned to his former life.
I think the reason that I avoid coming here, is fear of dredging up painful memories. I have forgiven my son, and I rejoice in where he is today. But the pain is there-- enough for me to continue to have compassion for those of you who are addicts-- and those of you who are the loved ones of addicts.
Hang on to hope. My son beat the odds, and we are closer than ever. I give the Glory to God, and His Mercy.