- Drugs
- Faith
Hi, my name is Kathy. My son is a drug addict.
It was late at night and Ray and I were asleep. I was pregnant with our first child. The first stirrings begin and we quickly left for the hospital. A mere 4 hours later this baby boy was placed in our arms. He was so amazingly beautiful. He was unblemished, perfectly formed. Our love life went from two to three that morning. Our hopes and dreams we named Nicholas. He remained Nicholas until he school started and then he became, Nick.
Was it a typical childhood? I really don’t know. I think it was. But how does one truly know how to define “typical childhood”? He liked Scooby Doo, he loved playing outdoors, he was funny, he had lots of friends, he ate mainly chicken nuggets and macaroni and cheese, loved Whataburger, played soccer, rode his bike and skateboard, broke out teeth, served on safety patrol, made good grades and we adored him.
He met his Higher Power, Jesus when he was in elementary school.
I had just sleepily walked into my kitchen to begin breakfast for my children, Nicholas and Sarah Kathryn. I’m really not a morning person and IF I am up I really don’t like a lot of conversation. On this early morning, Nicholas, who was 8 at the time, was already at the kitchen counter waiting for his pancakes. I have not uttered a word to anyone yet and he says, “Mama, I don’t think I’m going to heaven.” Stunned, I looked at this darling brown-haired, brown-eyed little boy and said, “why do you feel that way son?” He said, “well, I do mean things to Sarah; like I hit her and yell at you and Dad. I don’t want to do those things but sometimes I do.” I took a breath and said a prayer and said, “well you know what? There are three questions I can ask you and then we’ll know if you’re going to heaven.” His already big brown eyes were huge as he looked at me. “What are they Mama?
Holding up my fingers, I said:
Number 1: Do you believe in Jesus?
Number 2: Do you love him?
Number 3: Do you admit that you’ve done bad things and that you are sorry for them?”
“I am Mama, I don’t want to do them anymore.”
“OK, well now it’s easy, all you need to do is pray and ask God to forgive you and to come into your heart and live in you. We can pray right now.”
I reached across the counter and took his hand in mine, “Lord, Jesus, thank you for my life. I am sorry that I have been ugly to Sarah and my family. Forgive me for my sins and come live in my heart. I love you Jesus. Amen.”
I looked up at Nicholas and he said, “Mama, I don’t think I can say words like that.” I had thought he wanted me to lead him in a prayer but realized in that moment that he wanted and NEEDED to pray his own prayer. So I said, “That’s fine son, you pray however you want. Mama was just trying to help you know what to say.”
He said, “Dear God, I have done bad things and need to be forgived. I’m sorry God. Please come into my heart. I love you. Amen.”
We looked at each other still holding hands. And I said, “That’s it! You’ve asked Jesus to come into your heart, to live in you and help you. He will and now you can be sure you’re going to heaven. All He wants you to do today and everyday is to love people like He loves us and to give him your heart every day. Cool, huh?”
He simply said….”Yeah, hey mom, would you turn on Scooby Doo?”
Our moment was over – the special time had ended. But I KNOW my son’s heart was changed that morning. I just didn’t know how it would be challenged over the years.
Faith was an important part of our household and our lives. He saw his dad and I grow spiritually. He grew in his faith journey through elementary and middle school. He attended mission camps, and youth camps. But yet, he went into high school and the downward spiral began.
One day after school, I was taking our daughter Sarah to math tutoring and we begin to talk about Nick. (He was now a college sophomore). After a rather lengthy discussion of his most recent struggles and huge ups and downs, Sarah exploded with these words, “Mom, oh my gosh, When are you and Dad going to do something? Is Nick going to have to die before you wake up?” I was stunned but still.
Did we wake up? No, I don’t think so … for a few months later the real journey began.
People ask, “do you remember your first kiss?” “Do you remember the day you got engaged?” “Do you remember where you were during the Twin Towers disaster?”
This time in our lives was very much the same experience … forever marked in our memories. I’ll never forget where I was when the call came.
It was around 8:00 a.m. and I was fresh from the shower, my head and body still wrapped in towels as I sat in our home office checking email. My cell rang and I saw it was Ray, “Hi, honey,” I lightly answered. Ray responded, “Nick is in trouble and we’re coming home. Michael [a dear friend and attorney] is coming with me. We’ll be there in 20 minutes. I’ll explain when I get there but pray now.”
And that was it. He was gone. I hurriedly ran to our room to dress and cry out in prayer for Nick.
What’s interesting to me is that I clearly and completely remember the phone conversation but nothing more until Nick walked into our kitchen that day. He could barely speak a word to me but fell into my arms – all 6’2” of him, broken, devastated and scared.
Soon after, Ray and Michael arrived. We all sat down to hear Nick’s story. Nick could not sit, as he was so anxious. He paced and paced. Never stopping while he told his story … a story of being “found out.” It’s a story of bad choices, seeking new friends, compromising beliefs, and searching for acceptance. It’s a story of police, drugs and addiction. He was found out and rescued.
One memory particularly vivid from that morning was a conference call we placed just after hearing Nick’s version of events that led to this day. It was hard to hear his confessions and this bold truth. The emotions for all of us were swirling from devastation, to panic, hopelessness, shock and bewilderment. Then as the attorney spoke via speakerphone he laid out our options and his recommendation.
Nick had continued pacing this entire time, which was approaching an hour. He suddenly just blurted out to the attorney, ”OK, so tell me straight, what is the worst case scenario?” Our attorney responded, “I can’t say, there is no certain way this could go.” Nick persisted, “Just in your experience…what’s the worst case for me”. Everyone on the call tried to talk Nick out of getting this answer but still he asked, “Just tell me what you’ve seen before.”
In the dead stillness of the speakerphone we all heard these words, “Well, in my experience, you could get anywhere from 3 years to life in prison”.
How could this be? How could this have happened to our family?
In many ways Nick was a hard child for us. He pushed our buttons. He was strong-willed. He was seeking boundaries. He was seeking our love. And even as I stand here today, I wonder how our parenting failed him. Yes, I understand the facts and control of addiction. But today, I’m reflecting as a mom who fell in love with this boy on day one. How did my parenting cause these problems? What could I have done differently? Did all my mistakes, deficiencies cause this addiction? There are so many “what ifs” in our lives.
Regardless of the questions, I know three things today:
1. My child is an addict in recovery. I am a mom in recovery.
2. This is not the road we dreamed of as parents but it’s the road we’re on. God is leading.
3. This thing called addiction is a family disease and each member of my family is in a different place of healing. My job is to stay on the road and work on MY own recovery.
Ten days after Nick walked into our house that morning in April, we were walking into rehab. Clueless, so very clueless. Several weeks later, we began working our recovery during family week. I had NO idea what we were in for. We were given these worksheets and told to be honest, be very honest, so that the healing can begin. You all know this exercise.
“I feel __________ when you ________ and ______________.”
Ray and I worked that night and tried to really be honest – which is hard. We didn’t really even want to be honest with each other about the pain we had experienced – it’s just to plain difficult to voice that type of hurt, right?
What we didn’t’ really realize was that Nick was working on his own worksheets. The next morning the group gathered. There were about 35 of us in this session. When we walked in the room the chairs were arranged in a circle but four chairs were facing each other and were in the very middle of the room. As were given our instructions I begin to feel sick, very sick. We were to sit opposite our child with the counselors at our sides and speak aloud the truths from the worksheets to each other.
My road to recovery was beginning.
I said:
•I felt Joy and Elation when you were born.
•I felt scared and hurt when you raged in anger.
• I felt worried and fearful when you started losing more and more weight.
He said:
•I felt trapped and mad when you would confront me about my drug and alcohol use.
•I felt furious and like a child when you and dad would try and tell me the right thing to do.
•I felt shameful and heartless when you kept giving me second chances for everything that I knew I didn’t deserve.
This exercise continued with Nick and each member of our family. It continues today. We’re still messed up. We still worry about Nick and his sister Sarah. We want for their relationship to be healed and healthy. They are working their recovery. We each have to walk our own road on this journey.
Nick is now a junior, a 4.0 student at Texas Tech. He has been clean for two-and-a-half years. His 23rd birthday was earlier this month. We talked on that day and I was giving him words of birthday love and he said to me, “it’s not that big of a deal, Mama. My other birthday, April 23, is more special to me. My clean date.”
“I understand,” I said, “but your birthdate is forever a blessing to me and Daddy.”
The road we traveled has been victorious, blessed and immersed in the wisdom and direction of God, but it has also been a road of broken hearts, broken relationships, tears and more tears, doubts, fear, humiliation … the suffering of a family unit. But in this brokenness there has been restoration and hope. You see the prodigal son of the Bible is our son, and actually the prodigal son story defines all of us. We’ve come down the road toward home and our Father ran off the porch to greet us and welcome us in. He placed a robe on our brokenness and rings on our fingers. He claimed us as His.
This IS the road of recovery and it’s a road we will never leave. It has marked our lives, changed our lives and enriched our lives.