On a good day if you were to meet #2 Son, you might think him handsome and somewhat charming. He certainly can be. But underneath that almost-20-year-old skin bubbles pain, such pain. And he finds it frustrating. This life of his.
If he'd own his diagnosis, take meds, seek counseling he'd be able to cope. Instead he barrels through his day making unwise choices.
It's sad to think about my baby...out on the streets, sleeping in some dude's car. My imagination takes me to dark places sometimes; and I have to force myself to stop. And pray. All I can do is pray for him. For years, I've prayed a radical prayer for both sons: "Lord, do whatever it takes to get them on their knees." Well the WHATEVER is pretty scary. It seems clear to me. Stop doing what you're doing. Get a plan.
And then I recall it's been this way for years. It's not that he's JUST a rebellious teen, or JUST a party animal, or JUST a boy with tons of anger, or JUST a guy with learning disabilities. He is all of this. And more. He's tasted walking with God. He's a sensitive soul. He's hysterical. He's loving. That's my boy.
I have certain pictures of #2 Son that I cling to. I've seen him at his best. My prayer is that he makes it back there - to his best.
Yet I'm not alone
And, so...like Jen, I ask why? Why indeed?