hostesses were wonderful and very welcoming. I sat down in a small circle with a group of ladies of varying ages
and just started to relax when I suddenly heard the hostess say, “Norma, why don’t you start by telling us a little bit
about your family and yourself and we’ll just go around the circle.”
I just died inside. I thought, “I don’t want to tell them about my family and myself.” But I took a deep breath, smiled
and said, “Well, we have just moved here from Boston. My husband is your new pastor of counseling. We have
four children; the oldest Peter, is at a Christian college, Westmont, in California. Our second son, Steven, is 18 and
he’s in drug treatment at St. Mary’s. Our daughter Dana is a junior in high school and David is a seventh grader.”
And then I turned suddenly to the woman on my right and smiled and hoped she’d go on quickly so nobody would
have heard what I said.
Then I just froze as it went around the room. I really did not know who was there or what they said until the last
woman sitting directly across the table looked at me as she said, “My name is Carol and I, too, have four children
and my second son was also in drug treatment at St. Mary’s.” I didn’t hear any more. I couldn’t believe it. I just felt
like I was probably going to die from this horrible thing I was going through and here was a woman my age who
was well manicured and very well put together. She looked fairly sane and sensible. She must have lived through
this somehow. She seemed to be functioning quite normally.
Something sort of just physically mounted in me and I felt hope. I thought, “Maybe I can get through this
somehow.” You know how God does work sometimes just in a moment’s time. Suddenly I heard my mind thinking
of the verse in Job that says, “I know the way I take you, says the Lord, and when you are tried you shall come
through as gold.” And I saw my new friend Carol sitting there as gold. This woman became a friend at a very
desperate time in my life.
One of the ways I cope with anything in life as my family can tell you is to talk about it. I talk it through and then I
talk it thoroughly and then talk about it again. So I was talking about Steven to everyone and anyone who would
listen to me. I seemed to need reassurance somehow. I needed longtime friends to listen to me and tell me how
they remembered what a good mom I was and what a sweet boy Steven was and what a great family we were. I
need to be reassured that the past I remembered was what really happened. I guess I was hanging on to pride. I
didn’t really want to face the issue that maybe I or our home life had anything to do with Steven’s drug use. My
friends were really patient with me.
Slowly my disillusionment turned to anger and especially when I heard Christians say things like, “I don’t know
where my kids would be today if it weren’t for my prayers.” As if I hadn’t prayed or I hadn’t prayed enough or I
hadn’t prayed the right prayer or God didn’t like me as much as them or my kids. And I got angry and I got really
angry with God for not protecting our kids and not answering my prayers for them over the years. We had
dedicated each one of those kids to God when they were little and I never expected them to be in this kind of
destructive situation. I stopped reading Christian books and magazines and I avoided group prayer meetings. I
turned off the Christian music and the radio. I felt like I had been kicked in the stomach. Our family life felt like an
unreal mockery to me. I screamed out within myself often when I heard the public’s view of a drug addict on t.v. or
radio when they were classified drug users or addicts as losers or scumbags and the declaration of punishment
like they should be put away for life or given the death sentence or shipped out of the country. I wanted everyone
to stop it. I wanted everyone to know that one of those losers was my son whom I had nurtured in my arms every
night with stories and songs of “Jesus Loves You, This I Know.” I was really angry. Things had not turned out like I
thought God had promised they would. My long-term friend, Susan Vawter, remembers all that anger because she
patiently listened to it.
My new friend from the hospitality morning took me to Al-Anon. It was there that I listened to my anger through the
mouths of others. Al-Anon was painful for me and I didn’t like it either. Every time I went I left saying, “I’m not going
again.” I just didn’t understand what “letting go” was. I really didn’t appreciate having to share my personal feelings
and stories with people who would only give me their first names. But each time I went I repeated the serenity
prayer: “Lord grant me the grace to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can and
the wisdom to know the difference.” And I listened to others read the 12 steps. From day one I began slowly, very
slowly, to realize the decisions my kids make are not mine. They do things for their own reasons. Even though our
decisions affect each other, we are not the source of each other’s happiness or peace of mind. I cannot change my
kids or control their choices. I can only change me and control my own choices. Some days I had to work real hard
not to allow their well-being, especially Steven’s, to be the focus of my life or the source of my happiness. My well-
being has to be my own decision every day. This releases me from being enmeshed in Steven’s choices. When I
finally realized this, I told Steven one day, “You are not the source of my happiness, Steven.” He seemed shocked
and a little disbelieving and said, “You’ve never told me that before.” And I hadn’t. He’s right. I’m sure all the tears
and the ranting and the sermonizing and the punishing over the years had told him otherwise.
There are a couple of quotes that have been profound to me that I want to share them with you. One from a young
man named Evan Hodge who is a preacher’s son and was involved in drug and alcohol abuse. The other young
man is named Todd Smoke. He also is a preacher’s son who was also involved in drugs. This is what Evan said: “I
first started because my best friend was trying marijuana. I’d always heard drugs were bad but I was never able to