I have a prodigal son. Well, my two oldest children, really, are not thrilled with us. But my oldest girl tries to connect with the five of us who are left at home here. It’s just a mess for everyone.
I’m not kidding about my son, though. He left home at 16 and has not been back. He lives with another family who is EVERYTHING we’re not (in a way, I don’t blame him. They’re awesome).
But it hurts like a dog.
I was thinking two things this morning: ( I usually wake up hurting over my two oldest)
- It feels they are dead. The loss does. They are just…gone, you know?
- I can’t really talk about it to most people without being misunderstood.
The upshot is that my two oldest children judge us without mercy. They can’t get over all the bad stuff that hubby and I have done or neglected to do as parents. They criticize us with vitriol and vehemence whenever they get the chance.
Beth Moore has taught me to bring whatever I am going through right into my worship or church or Bible reading. That has been such good advice!
This morning at elevation.com (our church) I was able to get a break from the pain for a moment and see 👀 that
- God is here with me in this struggle. He knows all the details and history.
- God is wonderfully able to help me every second of this journey.
- This is part of my recovery; and I’m glad I’m not in the throes of mental illness and addiction now. I could be still messed up and clueless, ya know. So that’s something to be thankful for.
- This innoculates me against thinking I’m the perfect mom. Spiritual pride = Bad juju. That’s good: God resists the proud but gives grace to the humble, right?
- This failure makes me more accessible to my 🌎, more relatable and friendly-like.
- This grief won’t hurt so badly forever. People get past it when their children die in real-life, so I can too, right?
- I should find a support group. Is there one for parents in recovery whose kids won’t forgive them? There should be. 💔 maybe I should start one online.