Can I Keep My Sense of Humor?

One constant in my journey has been my sense of humor.  It has sustained me when I felt like crying or just simply giving up.  It started long before the problems with my son. I used it as a defense for a tall, uncoordinated young lass who, along with her brother, was being raised by a quirky, single mom and a doting grandmother. Their stories alone could fill volumes.

I look back with smiles now as I recall some of the things I did to try to change my son’s actions.  My husband and I once broke up a party in a quiet neighborhood.  We must have looked like idiots banging on the door and yelling out our son’s name.  We chased suspects all over town, researched strange phone numbers, and even called jails and hospitals to see if he had been admitted. I guess we thought we could make such an impact on him that he would want to change.  We were wrong.  He was not going to change until he decided that staying sober was better than getting high.  No matter how we cried, screamed, threatened, or demanded, the decision had to be his.  I just hate that he had to make his decision in a federal prison. 

Prison has been the place where he has stayed stay sober enough to make rational decisions.  Before his incarceration, he saw suicide as the only way out.  Knowing what I know now, I can’t blame him.  He had dug himself in such a hole that even when he struggled to get out, the ground continued to fall in on him. He felt hopeless.

I can honestly say I never felt a loss of hope.  I guess that’s why I kept praying for him. Each and every day I prayed. Late at night I prayed.  During the day I prayed.  Riding down the road I prayed. In the shower I prayed.  A faithful mother never gives up on her child, no matter what.  On the outside I could laugh and smile, I had to. I had two other wonderful sons and I had to be a caring parent to them, also.  But inside I was screaming my heart out to the Lord.

Because of them I could still find humor in my circumstances.  We could still laugh at some of the situations in which we found ourselves.   I remember one trip with the boys to see my son at drug rehab.  We were all very quiet. We stopped for fast food where the restaurant was guaranteeing our meal in 5 minutes. Of course it took 20.  When we got to the window, the young lady taking our order said “Sorry about your wait, Mam.”  From the back seat, one son asked, “Mom, are you going to let her talk to you like that? “ He had taken her “wait” as “weight” and immediately saw a moment for comic relief.  It took a minute to register, but we had the biggest laugh about her multiple meaning comment to a pleasingly plump, overweight mother.

My joy does not come from my circumstances. It is not of my doing, I have supernatural help.  I have a promise in Romans 15:13 that the “God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.”   I have hope.