Parenting in recovery

Dear fellow weary soul who is overwhelmed and discouraged. 💛

Church was good this day.  Younger son had his girlfriend here.  We go to and love it.  Going to married small group too with live chat program.  No bulls***. Ya know?

Making Easter dinner. Hubby went to the store. So I thought I would write. And then peel potatoes, which I can DO  from my ♿.
Hurting this morning over our two oldest knuckleheads.  💔

We recently had to send them a tough love letter.  Ouch.  I will post that if it seems like it might help my readers.

That early morning waking part of grief:  Yucky.  Uncomfortable. Ain’t it?

I looked up an article on symptoms of grieving to share with the fam.
Hope i get a chance.  💛. It helps to know what to expect.  They are grieving too.  Even though oldest kids have been awful (passive\aggressive? ) to them the last five years or so, and they had all but given up on them anyway. 💔 

It’s like a death, right?  That’s what it feels like.  Like after my first husband left me.  The early morning waking.

At church we talked of thinking “that will never happen to ME” with Peter denying Christ during His trial.
I was thinking of my two oldest the whole time.


I did not sign up for mothering prodigals, ya know what I mean?  Who does?

 Or failing them when I was young so badly.  Thought I was better than my mom and I was all that and a bag of chips because I loved God.  Wrong.

I was thinking about David and Absalom.


Failure at one of the most important things in my life- parenting. Remember the dreams that we had as young parents?

Remember how we felt when they put that clean baby into our shaky arms? I never thought I would walk through this. I mean, right?

I get David in this.

It is hard for us to rise above our upbringing and culture.  Mammals love their babies.  Period.  Even the ones who blow it.  

I see my pain as a chance to participate in humanity. 

Especially among the recovering mentally ill, this culture of fractured family, this culture of two incomes where it is so hard to have time and energy, this land of the addicted and stressed.

To see God move: that is what I want.  (oh Bother grammar!)

To hang on and never give up on my family. 

 To experience His comfort.  How does the KJV say it?  The “bowels of His mercy”. Funny.  But isn’t that where you feel grief?  In your core.  

I want to be present for this grieving. not hide in my addiction du jour

To hang on to Jesus and every wholesome pleasure I can fit in.  

To graduate and become eligible to DO GOOD.

To share that comfort with my brothers and sisters.
I didn’t sign up for this. 
But I am determined to ask God for His comfort, to model good skills, and to share what I learn.

After all, we’re in this thing together. Right?  🌻💛🌻💛🌻💛

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