Recently God reminded me of an incident a few years ago when I was sure I would never be able to help my son in the right ways. I was at a place where I hated who I had become in his addiction. I was starting to see my role and was mentally and physically exhausted, but just when I thought I could not go on, God presented an event that showed me how far I had indeed come.

One of the many times I was visiting my son in jail, I happened to notice a gentleman sitting in the visitation area. I knew he was new. You get used to seeing the same people every week, and I know I had not seen him before. I overheard him talking to someone about his daughter, who was in for the first time for a drug charge. As I listened, I was shocked his concern was not for his daughter; it was for his wife.
She couldn’t pull herself away from the daughter’s addiction.  She felt responsible for everything they were going through and was obsessed with how to fix their daughter. He was angry and confused. I felt so bad for him but could understand where his wife was because I too was right there.
Several minutes went by, and he just vented all his frustrations. It was therapeutic for him;  I never commented. I felt like I didn’t have anything to offer since I was also such an enabler myself he needed a nonbiased ear to listen. He was clearly at his wit’s end with this situation he found their family in.
Finally, his wife walked out. She had been crying, and you could tell she hadn’t slept in days. I could feel her pain and wanted to reach out to her, but as she reached her husband, she just collapsed in his arms. I could see how much this was taking out of her. You don’t have to know someone to see the same agony they suffer. It’s unmistakable,  I know that desperation all to well and felt like his comfort was what she needed at that time, so I sat silent.
After my visit, of course, they were gone. But I wondered about her.
As I walked out, my heart was still with her, and I regretted not saying something, anything to her that may have helped her anguish.
As I rounded the corner, I was surprised to see her and her husband sitting outside on the curb of the jail. She was still upset and crying. He was trying so hard to comfort her, but she was inconsolable.
As I walked by, I was stopped. I had such a strong urge to talk to her. I didn’t know what I was going to say or why, but I knew God was guiding me.
So from God to her, one mom to another, I offered some understanding that only moms can give to each other. She looked relieved and didn’t take a lot for her to start telling me their whole journey. Typical drug addiction began with one thing, lead into another. Now facing charges doesn’t care or see the effect this is having on her family, and mom feels responsible. I saw myself in this sweet desperate lady. So overcome with grief and despair. Her life was not hers anymore, and she was mourning the happy family she once had.
As she talked and I listened, she began to calm down. When she finished, she begged me to tell her how to fix her daughter. What had I done to help my son?  I laughed at the fact that I was there visiting my son also so clearly nothing I had done had helped.
But then she said, “you seem happy. I want to be where you are.”

WOW! I seemed together to her. I Looked happy??? I started telling her our story all I had done and been through with not just one but all three of my sons. She nodded in agreement, and we laughed and cried with all the wrong ways I had tried to save our family. She understood my obsession with my boy’s addictions and realized for the first time; she too, was addicted to her daughter’s addiction. She was freed in her loneliness because like I had seen earlier, she too could see herself in me.
I left my new friend with the butterfly story. A butterfly has to struggle to get out of the cocoon. It’s in that struggle that gives them the ability to fly. Without it, they would die. Our kids are the same its in the conflict that they learn to live, and we need to let them learn the struggle so we can live.
She hugged me and cried, and we said goodbye. As she started to pull away, she suddenly stopped her car and jumped out running to my vehicle; she handed me a coin with an angel on it. She said she knew God sent me to her, I was her Angel and that she was renewed that they would be ok. As she got back in her car, I just sat there suddenly I knew it was her that God had given to me.  I was doubting my progress, questioning my faith, and was losing my hope. Meeting her and sharing our stories reminded me how far I had come. I had made headway, and God was still leading me.
I saw that nice lady a couple more times after that and we were able to lift each other up, share struggles and victories. Although I doubt she ever realized what she did for me, It was a defining moment in my recovery.  I may have given her the hope that there can be happiness in addiction, but she showed me I never lost mine and God showed us both we were not alone.