unorganized...
scattered...
and
long
post.
You've
been
warned
:)
A lot has happened since I blogged regularly on my other blog. My oldest son went to live with his father last fall. This was hard for all of us. I had to give my "baby" to God. I had to trust his father with parenting him. I had to trust God to take care of him and watch over him. I had to give up my control. I had to learn to let my son be who he was. I had to let my son make his own choices.
I've had to sit by and watch my son make poor choices. I couldn't rescue him. I couldn't "save" him either. I couldn't tell his father how to parent him, and have had to watch him make mistakes from afar. I had to let my ex-husband learn to be a father again...that included letting him learn from his own trial and error solutions to my son's behavior.
I chose for my son to go to his father's house. My son didn't have a choice. Life got complicated and I ran out of options. At the time, it seemed like the best choice. I had to face the fact that I wasn't "super mom", and that my child needed more than I could give him. I really cannot go into all the details because he deserves respect, but it wasn't fun, nor was it easy.
I drove 1 1/2 hours to meet his father. My two friends came with. I said good-bye to my son, and sobbed the whole ride home. I faced horrible judgment from different people who believed I "copped out" of my responsibilities. Maybe I did, but either way, it's what I did. I raised this young man, mostly as a single parent, for most of his 14 years of life. I prayed his dad would do a better job.
I spent the first 6 months trying to heal. Trying to get used to my "new normal": me and my youngest son. Because of the distance, I saw him one weekend a month. I called it "boy swap". My ex would take my youngest son to spend time with him, and I would take my oldest with me for the weekend. My family was suddenly divided again. I didn't have both boys together anymore. It was no longer the three of us at the supper table, but the two of us. Christmas was the hardest. I did not have my boys together on Christmas morning. Even as I write, I get a hint of sadness thinking about it.
Guilt! Oh, I felt guilt. Such horrible guilt. I felt I had to "get rid of" one son just to save the other son. One son began to thrive and bloom, while the other felt abandoned, rejected, and "thrown away". Why does a mother have to choose? No mother should have to choose.
He was my first born. That pregnancy saved my life because I had to choose to quit the drinking and drugs, or die in that lifestyle. I chose my unborn baby. I chose to change my life. I chose to stop drinking and partying. I chose Zachary.
As a child, I was sexually abused so bad, that the doctor told my mom I would never be able to have children. I had so much scar tissue from years of sexual abuse. At age 7, I was a medical case of a little girl who had been scarred so bad that I had a 3-4% chance of ever having children. Well, obviously God is BIGGER because I have two healthy boys, and a little girl in heaven.
Guilt! No mother should have to choose. I spent the first six months healing while my oldest son, Zachary, continued to go downhill even at his father's house. His grades plummeted. His addictions grew. I felt responsible. I failed at my job of being "mommy". I failed him.
Meanwhile, my youngest son, Dylan, thrived at home with me. His behaviors lessened at school and at home. He was able to sleep all night long. His fears were subsiding. He exploded less. He began to bloom at school. His life was saved.
Through all my tears and every situation that came up, God assured me that He had Z in the palm of his hand. He assured me that He was in control. He assured me that He was Z's perfect father. He assured me the end picture was beautiful! God would turn this heart wrenching situation into a beautiful tapestry of restoration. This would all be part of Z's testimony one day.
I prayed for God's eyes. I prayed to see God's heart and vision in this situation. God plainly told me over and over to let Him fight any battles. I was to let go and let my ex-husband be the father that God wanted him to be. I protested. I stomped my feet. I grew impatient. I screamed at God many times... "God, do you SEE what is happening here? Are you going to intervene yet? Do you see this God? DO YOU???"
I had to let go. I had to trust. I had to believe in the promises God gave me for Z. They were plans to prosper him and not to harm him. They were plans of hope and a future. That meant that what I was seeing in the moment was NOT the end of the story. That meant that somewhere between here and there, God still had a plan.
Tears. Pain. Heartache. Grief.
I suddenly had no control. (Don't be jealous, but I'm fairly good at being a control freak!) Suddenly, I had none.
scattered...
and
long
post.
You've
been
warned
:)
A lot has happened since I blogged regularly on my other blog. My oldest son went to live with his father last fall. This was hard for all of us. I had to give my "baby" to God. I had to trust his father with parenting him. I had to trust God to take care of him and watch over him. I had to give up my control. I had to learn to let my son be who he was. I had to let my son make his own choices.
I've had to sit by and watch my son make poor choices. I couldn't rescue him. I couldn't "save" him either. I couldn't tell his father how to parent him, and have had to watch him make mistakes from afar. I had to let my ex-husband learn to be a father again...that included letting him learn from his own trial and error solutions to my son's behavior.
I chose for my son to go to his father's house. My son didn't have a choice. Life got complicated and I ran out of options. At the time, it seemed like the best choice. I had to face the fact that I wasn't "super mom", and that my child needed more than I could give him. I really cannot go into all the details because he deserves respect, but it wasn't fun, nor was it easy.
I drove 1 1/2 hours to meet his father. My two friends came with. I said good-bye to my son, and sobbed the whole ride home. I faced horrible judgment from different people who believed I "copped out" of my responsibilities. Maybe I did, but either way, it's what I did. I raised this young man, mostly as a single parent, for most of his 14 years of life. I prayed his dad would do a better job.
I spent the first 6 months trying to heal. Trying to get used to my "new normal": me and my youngest son. Because of the distance, I saw him one weekend a month. I called it "boy swap". My ex would take my youngest son to spend time with him, and I would take my oldest with me for the weekend. My family was suddenly divided again. I didn't have both boys together anymore. It was no longer the three of us at the supper table, but the two of us. Christmas was the hardest. I did not have my boys together on Christmas morning. Even as I write, I get a hint of sadness thinking about it.
Guilt! Oh, I felt guilt. Such horrible guilt. I felt I had to "get rid of" one son just to save the other son. One son began to thrive and bloom, while the other felt abandoned, rejected, and "thrown away". Why does a mother have to choose? No mother should have to choose.
He was my first born. That pregnancy saved my life because I had to choose to quit the drinking and drugs, or die in that lifestyle. I chose my unborn baby. I chose to change my life. I chose to stop drinking and partying. I chose Zachary.
As a child, I was sexually abused so bad, that the doctor told my mom I would never be able to have children. I had so much scar tissue from years of sexual abuse. At age 7, I was a medical case of a little girl who had been scarred so bad that I had a 3-4% chance of ever having children. Well, obviously God is BIGGER because I have two healthy boys, and a little girl in heaven.
Guilt! No mother should have to choose. I spent the first six months healing while my oldest son, Zachary, continued to go downhill even at his father's house. His grades plummeted. His addictions grew. I felt responsible. I failed at my job of being "mommy". I failed him.
Meanwhile, my youngest son, Dylan, thrived at home with me. His behaviors lessened at school and at home. He was able to sleep all night long. His fears were subsiding. He exploded less. He began to bloom at school. His life was saved.
Through all my tears and every situation that came up, God assured me that He had Z in the palm of his hand. He assured me that He was in control. He assured me that He was Z's perfect father. He assured me the end picture was beautiful! God would turn this heart wrenching situation into a beautiful tapestry of restoration. This would all be part of Z's testimony one day.
I prayed for God's eyes. I prayed to see God's heart and vision in this situation. God plainly told me over and over to let Him fight any battles. I was to let go and let my ex-husband be the father that God wanted him to be. I protested. I stomped my feet. I grew impatient. I screamed at God many times... "God, do you SEE what is happening here? Are you going to intervene yet? Do you see this God? DO YOU???"
I had to let go. I had to trust. I had to believe in the promises God gave me for Z. They were plans to prosper him and not to harm him. They were plans of hope and a future. That meant that what I was seeing in the moment was NOT the end of the story. That meant that somewhere between here and there, God still had a plan.
Tears. Pain. Heartache. Grief.
I suddenly had no control. (Don't be jealous, but I'm fairly good at being a control freak!) Suddenly, I had none.
i
had
to
trust
God
because
i
had
no
other
choice!
I still have to trust God. Daily. Momentarily.
Z's been here with me for the summer. It's been good. It's been hard. It's been eye-opening. It's been real!
I try to see the gems that God has placed in his heart. It's kinda' hard to see through the 15-year old, tough exterior, the "floppy-skateboarder-in-his-face" hair, the language, the smoking, the music, the anger, and the brokenness...
Ah...............
...But once I see past all that...
...I see a beautiful heart, an artistic spirit, a creative mind, a compassionate soul, and even further down, I see a young boy who still loves his mommy, and who hasn't totally given up on Jesus yet!
In that moment, I know that I know that I KNOW that God is holding him close! I KNOW that this lifestyle is simply a temporary resting place for him! I KNOW God still holds the key to his heart! I KNOW that He's gonna' be alright...
...Because of the Jesus I serve!
So.........................................................
had
to
trust
God
because
i
had
no
other
choice!
I still have to trust God. Daily. Momentarily.
Z's been here with me for the summer. It's been good. It's been hard. It's been eye-opening. It's been real!
I try to see the gems that God has placed in his heart. It's kinda' hard to see through the 15-year old, tough exterior, the "floppy-skateboarder-in-his-face" hair, the language, the smoking, the music, the anger, and the brokenness...
Ah...............
...But once I see past all that...
...I see a beautiful heart, an artistic spirit, a creative mind, a compassionate soul, and even further down, I see a young boy who still loves his mommy, and who hasn't totally given up on Jesus yet!
In that moment, I know that I know that I KNOW that God is holding him close! I KNOW that this lifestyle is simply a temporary resting place for him! I KNOW God still holds the key to his heart! I KNOW that He's gonna' be alright...
...Because of the Jesus I serve!
So.........................................................
i
keep
on
trusting
i
keep
on
trusting...
W-H-I-L-E
-I-
just keep swimming, just keep swimming...
keep
on
trusting
i
keep
on
trusting...
W-H-I-L-E
-I-
just keep swimming, just keep swimming...
Love your new blog!!!
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