Feelings of loneliness and fear pervaded my young thought life, especially come nightfall. I always wondered what would happen if my mom left us orphaned. Who knows how many hundreds of evenings I spent sitting statuesque at our front window? Elbows propped laterally in prayer, my fingers folded together, my bony chin atop all, resting on the windowsill. For hours I would wait, fighting visions of my mother behind the wheel of a gruesome crash. When her headlights finally blinded me turning into our townhouse parking space, relief would spill into my being. By evening she was almost always drunk, and even a child knows that someone who is having difficulty walking and talking should not drive.

A heavy burden seemed to lift if only for a moment, as I watched her stagger in. I could tell by her walk; what sort of night we’d be in for. Nonetheless, her return, whether it be from work or the bar, always brought a sense of relief, and the courage to face another day. Memories of my mom’s addiction and instability rush together like an old black and white film… image upon image of hopelessness and fear flicker with love and hope in my mind.

Her suicide attempts are neatly compartmentalized in the attic of my consciousness. I remember walking into our little half bath on the main floor to find my mom, my WORLD, and sole care provider, lying lifeless on the floor. Bright -red splotches of blood exploded from the sink. They danced around the razor blade responsible, before cascading down the vanity. The red liquid splashed against the tile floor and her clothes, tracing the route to her seemingly lifeless wrists. How old was I? I’m not sure, I just know the sink was at shoulder level, and I had to reach up to grab the towel bar. I happened upon my mom like this on more than one occasion. Yes sirens and circular streaming lights were terribly common in my childhood home.

Self- destruction was the common theme when she was inebriated, and we all knew to hide the scissors, knives, pills, and keys. The most defiling and embarrassing episodes of all were those that took place outdoors, in view of the neighbors.. We lived in a unit of federally subsidized townhouses that linked together into a U shape. Inevitably, our friends would be sitting outside on their bikes as my mom would try to escape to her car, with threats of suicide. When we would wrestle her keys away from her she would make a beeline for one of my brother’s dirt bikes. Barely able to walk, let alone pedal a bike, she would be cursing us while trying to escape in her white ruffled nightgown. These confrontations became violent at times. We would usher her back into the house as quickly and quietly as possible. Looking back, I wonder how we lived like this for so long, with such little interference from law enforcement.

My love, and the love of my siblings was never enough. Prayer sustained us all; but her deliverance has been elusive. Some holes cannot be filled by anyone other than the Lord Almighty. He created us to be dependent on Him, and to live in relationship with Him. When we reject Him and choose our own way, it doesn’t work. We feel empty. Unhealthy relationships and addictions are inevitable counterfeits. We’ve all flirted with idolatry, often unknowingly. We are born to worship, yet steeped in rebellion. Our soul’s cry out for comfort, forgiveness, and collaboration with The Creator; and we run to the mall or the refrigerator or the doctor, or the bank, or the nearest cruise ship. Jonah is a brother to us all.

My mom still lives in a prisoner’s body and mind. Instead of drunken escapades; old age has lulled her into a stupor-like existence consisting of sedatives and sleep. Her memory is poor and she needs assistance for daily activities. My four children do not remember their grandma outside of bed. The fruit of her lifestyle has matured and yielded heart failure, hypercriticism, and isolation.

She attended Catholic school and was raised in legalism. What good is our Faith if we don’t know how to use it? She was never taught to use the scriptures as a Guide for Life. Her beauty, both internally and externally, is now cloaked in self- pity, and bitterness. Ignoring our conscience creates a constant War within. The Internal voice pursues relentlessly…and she resorted to medicating hers into silence. A steep price to pay! No wonder her life has abounded with dis – ease. Only time will tell if she will ultimately choose the path Jesus offers – open arms of forgiveness, faith, and freedom, or if she will die in her chains.

When i found myself an adult in the fiery furnace of affliction, because of my mom’s example, i unabashedly chose Jesus. I accepted the Lord’s chastening, humbled myself, and cried out to Him. This was only possible because HE provided mentors and teachers to lead me into the Light and Truth of His WORD. The outward result was my son’s deliverance from a terminal cancer, and nationwide opportunities to speak of HIM.

He has transformed my family, my marriage and my life. For almost a decade now i have been homeschooling and it is my greatest hope and joy is to see my children walking in HIs ways.

I call heaven and earth to speak against you today. I have put in front of you life and death, the good and the curse. So choose life so you and your children after you may live.

-Deut 30:19

Who hath delivered us from the power of darkness, and hath translated us into the kingdom of his dear Son in whom we have redemption through his blood, even the forgiveness of sins: – Col 1:13-14