Where life and faith collide- Faith, Family Addiction, Mental Health
.."They both keep me going. Caught in the web of parental destruction, these children ease through like escape artists. My grandkids tend to rely on one another in ways other siblings never will. Shadows of unfair circumstances are illuminated by their grace and boldness. They both bless my life and teach me new wisdom daily."..
People rely on themselves for what only God provides, and it shows. We have entire courses to teach people how to be all about themselves! Self love sounds sufficient and enough.
We all struggle to feel like we are 'enough'. Note: we ARE enough!
If you have not parented through substance use, you can't understand. However, you might get it if you experience strongholds, anger, doubt, fear, and loneliness. If you ever spent time trying to outdo God in a life meant for surrender, then you can understand a piece of the trauma in addiction.
begin to make plans for their future, I wonder why my kids never believed they should do the same. We are told not to ask, but I can't let go of the questions, "What did I do wrong?.. Could I have done more to help them?.. Didn't I teach them confidence?" I could go on. What happened here?
I thought ‘who I am’ was wrapped up in titles and what I do, but I am very wrong. My identity is lovingly written on the palm of God’s hand. (Isaiah 49: 15-16).
Hindsight leads to insight, and if I knew then, what I know now, it would be a different ballgame. It may not change the outcome because the one lesson I know better than any is I can never change another human's mind. I do not own that power.
There was relief
In the final sigh..
When surrender felt
Like breath of life..
"God, if you have to take my son, I will let him go."
I will never forget the pain in those words. I was heartbroken and angry. How would God do this to us?
How do we love those who not only appear unlovable in their mess but also hate us in it, as well? I had dodged fists and verbal attacks, put up bail money (only once), picked up my grand-kids from a ravaged house with a passed out mom, and cleaned out more hidden empty bottles than I can count. Still, the pain I felt when the handcuffs went on killed me. The hopelessness was burning through my soul the way Satan enjoys.
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