Why Can't He Tell the Truth?

There is a quote about a tangled web of deceit and how it weaves itself tighter and tighter with every lie.  I never knew how true it was until my son became so intertwined in the drug culture. What would start out as a small lie would grow and grow until it was impossible to find the truth in all the layers of deceit. He got to where he would lie when the truth would serve him better.

It is so frustrating to try to glean the truth from the untruths. I found myself trying to complete the half truths with my speculations. That made matters even worse because I would fill in the blanks with the worst possible scenario. Many times I needed to, many times I did not.

Some things were very clear. There is no doubting a forged check. But often things would go missing and not be noticed for days. That would lead to accusations and arguments.  Sometimes we could catch him in the act, like the time he took his grandfather's pain medicine for his amputated leg. We were able to retrieve the pills. But more often than not we were unable to retrieve the stolen goods.

My husband noticed a signature print missing from his office the night after he had taken my son to a college football game. He had pawned the picture for drug money. Luckily, my husband was able to buy the print back, but we were not so lucky with two missing X Boxes, a PlayStation3, and a diamond bracelet.

After testing positive on a drug test, the courts allowed him to go to a Christian based program in Tennessee. The day my husband drove him to Knoxville, I got a phone call from my brother. My son had forged a check for several thousand dollars on the checking account of my late father’s estate. I was beyond angry.

My husband and son were just past the state line when I called. He admitted his actions. I guess we should have brought him home, but we decided to let him finish the program. We had hopes that it would change him.

You may ask why I just didn't let him get arrested. I was afraid that he might be forced to spend a lifetime in jail for being a repeat offender. I knew it was the disease and not my son acting that way. Fear was guiding my decisions. It was not until his arrest for robbery that I was made aware of his arrest record. He actually had only one prior recorded felony.  Another God thing considering how many times he had been arrested.

His web of deceit finally overtook his brilliant mind. Unable to make the right choices, he robbed a pharmacy.  What followed was like a dream, it just didn't seem real but it was.  All I can do now is look back with amazement and say thank you, Lord.   Thank you for saving my son.  Like the sun breaking through the clouds on a hazy morning, God's glory shone through that web of deceit and exposed the darkness.  His journey is not over and neither is mine. I just pray he can continue to walk in the light.

 

Another Late Night Call

The next arrest came on a Saturday night in January. I remember because I was scheduled to start a new Bible study at my church the next day. I remember being overjoyed about the number of participants since the count had doubled.  A good friend reminded me not to get too excited because the Evil One, whom she calls Big Red, loves to squelch our joy when good things are happening for The Lord.  Sure enough, I got a call at about 2 in the morning.

For anyone who has experienced dealing with a rebellious child, the stress can affect every relationship it touches.  Parents are especially vulnerable since both feel a responsibility in rearing the child.   It is often too easy to let the pressure of the situation dictate the behavior. Hurtful words begin to fly, emotions explode, and each parent finds himself blaming the other for something of which neither is responsible. Add to that the nurturing instinct of the mother and the mix can be volatile.

My husband and I had numerous disagreements about what to do with our wayward son. Do we leave him in jail to wait it out? Do we bail him out and set yet another ultimatum? Both of us thought we knew best what to do. I can remember the knots in my stomach from just worrying about my decision. It's almost a no-win situation regardless of what we choose to do.

My son had been living with my grandmother since his first arrest. She could not bear the thought of him staying in jail, so I found myself driving to Birmingham to bring him home. My mother went with me to pick him up. I was angry and venting on the way down.  When we inquired about bond, we realized neither of us has brought our tax cards so we had to make a trip back home. For some reason, we began singing hymns as we traveled the miles. It calmed me down. It was not until years later that I realized what we were doing was worship. We were unconsciously praising the God of Salvation with our words and our songs.

 

My son came home, but his short stay had not changed his behavior. It may have delayed the inevitable for a short time, but many heartaches were soon to follow.  The Bible Study was a huge success and I was able to rest somewhat peacefully that Sunday night. My greatest joy came from knowing that one Saturday night in January, I was able to praise the Lord and beat Big Red at his game. Like the verse in Genesis 50:20 says: “ You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives.” Praise the Lord.

 

Did I miss the signs?

People often ask me if I had any idea my son was in trouble. Did I see any signs? Did he exhibit any abnormal behavior? What can they do to prevent the same thing happening to their child?

I do not have the answers.  Looking back, I can see actions that might indicate a problem.  He knew not to steal, yet he shoplifted. He began to answer questions with half-truths and outright lies.  He lost interest in his normal activities and began to spend a lot of time with strange new friends. It was hard to tell if he was depressed or just exhibiting normal, irrational teenage behavior. 

After his arrest, the juvenile courts suggested we begin taking him to a child psychologist. We did, but even he did not suspect any abnormal behavior. The psychiatrist never suggested attention-deficit disorder, or mental illness, or possible drug use. We had no clue how severe the problem was until he ran away from home six weeks before his high school graduation.  By that time we had become aware of his habit of smoking pot. 

My son has a very melancholic personality. He is extremely intelligent and very intuitive. I think this may have contributed to a low self-esteem.  He wanted to play school basketball but never made the team. It was after his last try-out that we began to notice a change in behavior and attitude.  Whatever the cause, we were called in for a conference with his teachers because he had such a drop in grades.  He was an honor student, yet he was refusing to turn in assignments.  He was even caught trying to change a grade on the computer.  Tempers escalated at home; and when he would not follow our rules, there was an altercation and he left.  After a week, we found where he was staying and arranged to get him in a drug treatment facility. 

I look back and see all the times God had His hand on my family and me.  Many times God let me know where to look or who to call.  I once found myself right behind my son at an intersection during school hours, so I knew he was skipping school. God knew I needed to know.   He heard the heartfelt cries from a helpless mother and protected her wayward son. Through 4 car wrecks, 7 arrests, at least 5 suicide attempts, and a point blank gunshot wound to the shoulder from an AK47 assault rifle, God was always there providing and protecting.

I look back with amazement at the events of this journey.   Divine intercession is the only reason my son is living today.  I do not believe in coincidences, I believe in God’s purpose.  There is a reason my son’s life was spared.  I think that is why I feel compelled to tell my story. Through all the pain and heartache, I choose to see God’s Glory in each action and incident.  That’s not to say I didn’t lose sleep over it.  If God numbers the hairs on my head, I’m sure He knows the stress has cost me at least a thousand strands.

We are all alike

If you have ever had a late night phone call, you know the angst it produces the moment you hear the first ring. My grandmother used to tell me that no good happens after midnight, and I believer her. The first time I remember being awakened by a ring, my dad had passed away, but it’s those that involved the law that I remember the most. One late night call came from the Police Department of Argo. My son had been arrested and they requested that we come get him from the municipal jail. He was charged with possession of a controlled substance and drug paraphernalia along with two of his friends. His actions would bring us to court in Pell City. I thought that coming before a judge would be incentive enough to change his life, but I was mistaken. Only now am I beginning to understand the irrational thoughts and actions of a drug addict. There is no reasoning or logic in their behavior. They are consumed with only one thought and that need for self-gratification does not leave room for any compassion or consideration of others. The judge even had the boys sit in on a murder case and see the man shackled and handcuffed. I can still remember the feeling I had as we entered the courtroom. I felt dirty, like I needed to go home and take a long bath. I think I had an attitude at the time that I might be better than those around me. I had been taught to honor the law and getting arrested had been my one greatest fear in my teenage years and on into my twenties. I was embarrassed, humiliated and basically disappointed. I was angry at my son as well. How could he do this to me! I am his Mother! God has really opened my eyes to the Truth during these twenty years. He has reminded me many times of the passage in Romans 8:23. “For we all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.” I could just as easily be the one on the other side of the chain link fence. The people in jail, court, prison and anywhere else are no different than I am. We are all Children of God. We may be sinners, but if we choose to believe in Jesus Christ we can be forgiven for all that we have done. I see others differently now. I see them through the light of God’s Grace.

When was my first visit?

I am a mother with a son in prison. I often wonder how I got in this place in my life. Did I do something wrong as a parent? Am I being punished for something I did or did not do? Why do I deserve this plight? It has taken me a lifetime to realize that I am not in charge of what happens to me in my life, nor do I have to know why. We are all part of a much bigger picture - one that none of us can truly understand. The only reassurance I have is that I am a Christian and I believe what the Bible says in Romans 8:28 that "all thing work for the good of those who love the Lord and are called according to His purpose." I decided to begin writing about my journey because I think there just might be another mom or dad out there who needs some encouragement. It is no an easy task to face each day with a child whom you truly love in a distant, unfamiliar place. It is embarrassing, humiliating, and scary to imagine what dangers might be surrounding your precious loved one. I have to remind myself each day that there will be an end to this part of my journey. My son will be released one day and I will be able to hug him and kiss him whenever I want. Some mothers are not so lucky. The first time I had to bail my son out of jail was on a youth trip to Gatlinburg, Tennessee. I had gone as a volunteer chaperone for the group since I had a large van that could carry several students. He had been arrested for shoplifting a small sticker and a picture. The value of the items were less that $5, but the store had a zero tolerance policy for shoplifting. Another mom and I had to pool our money to come up with the $85 to post his bail. We managed to scrape enough together, but it took all of our food money so were hungry the rest of the trip. That doesn't really qualify as a visit, but I had to start at the beginning. I wanted you to know that it has not been an easy journey, nor a short one. My son was 14 at the time and he had his 34th birthday last August. That is twenty years of sleepless nights, counseling, drug tests, court dates, bail bonds, and lawyers. In an odd way, I have a peace in knowing where he is at night. It was not always that way. When he was first sentenced, his dad and I felt sure he would be sent to a medium security prison. Imagine our shock when we found out he had been sent to a maximum security prison some 530 miles away. My story is too long for one blog, but if you choose to follow me I intend on writing my story from beginning to end. For now I will just say that God let me know that He would protect my son in ways that I could not even imagine.