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.