My son believes that if I pray for his friends when they are using they will stop. I hope so. I stand wherever I am when he asks. Once I stood in front of the refrigerator for minutes, door wide open, praying for them to recognize their divinity and reject the darkness that leads them to opiates. “Let’s pray together, It has more power,” I say and off we go.
God knows I prayed a long time for him. Now that I know more, I realize that I didn’t pray hard enough or soon enough or long enough. Things I know now that I didn’t know then. Scary things that I’m truly glad I didn’t know because it would have been harder to take everything except our love and turn our backs on him, to walk away from the crazy world we were living in.
Last summer, they were outside, playing badminton at our house after a meeting and I was listening. I heard one man telling about his depravity, how low he fell still again and over, feeling so entitled and yet ashamed at the same time. He recollected one day when his mother came into his bedroom as he was snorting and he yelled at her. Not the other way round. Every day he wanted his life to be different and every day it stayed the same. Things were quite upside down.
Like they were at our house. We kept thinking he’s young, he’s working almost every day, we never see him drinking. Until we couldn’t think that and had to think something else. That something was really quite simple. We can’t do this anymore, not with you, not for you, not beside you, not watching you. Ever again.
And that’s when the fear of God struck and you called us every name in the book, resisting the only treatment you needed. And now four years later, as you banged the shuttlecock across the net, you harkened to that miraculous day when the world stopped and you started listening. I laughed at your story. How you wanted to call 911 on the hospital for recommending treatment for addiction, how you would awaken to messages on your phone asking about things you didn’t remember, how your “friends” called asking what drugs you needed right after I called asking what groceries you wanted. How scared you were. How unhappy you were. And how happy you are right now.
How every day you get up and admit that you are powerless over substances. That the feeling you get from being sober and helping others is the best high you’ve ever had. How you love and appreciate all the like-minded spirits surrounding you. How glad and lucky you feel to be celebrating another birthday and soon another sober anniversary. How good it feels to be free.
And that night, I put my head into my hands and sobbed, lifting another prayer of gratitude for my son whose feet truly practice the walk in the light of his vision. And I gave thanks once again to our God who never fails, who never forsakes us.