State of Miracles (Part 2)
Second of two parts
I mentioned in my last blog that we made a decision to change our lives after facing the enormous pressure brought on by my stepson’s drug use and related problems—which ultimately led to him serving several months in jail for violating his probation.
I think too many people think joining a church will bring them days of endless joy, earthly rewards, and a stress-free, care-free life. Then, when they discover that they still have to deal with all of life’s attendant problems, they get disillusioned and walk away.
So, if we thought church membership was going to buy us immunity from life, we were sorely mistaken. What it did bring was a divine source that enabled us to deal with multiple headaches and agony.
Until a discussion last month with a small group, I had forgotten one particularly moving experience my wife had in the midst of the pain of my stepson’s drug abuse.
It involved two spiritually-charged episodes that some might scoff at; skeptics would claim she was fantasizing or dreamed it all up. There is no way to prove that they really happened, but they were every bit as real as the chair you’re sitting in as you read these words.
The first could be described as a vision. My wife recalled how it appeared a white screen came down out of the ceiling and everything went blank. Then came the message she believes came from God: “I need you to get out of the way and let Me deal with your son.”
This happened during the weeks leading up my threatening to show him the door after he turned 18 if he didn’t get a job and start paying rent.
I had no problem carrying through with those words; I was fed up with him freeloading and making no apparent efforts to become a productive member of society. My wife didn’t share my opinion.
Not long after her vision, my wife went out for a walk one night in the subdivision west of Denver where we lived. She poured her heart out to God, sharing her fears for her son and agony over kicking him out of the house.
Suddenly she felt a presence, as if another person had mysteriously appeared to walk alongside here on the street. Peace flooded her soul. In that instant, she knew that she had to do what God had told her to do—to get out of the way.
When she returned home, she told her son that he would indeed have to leave.
That was only the first of six times he would depart from our home over a two-year period. We repeatedly gave him second chances until it became obvious: as long as we gave him a soft place to land, he would never change.
It took 18 months after that final expulsion before he got tired of living like a bum. He cut his hair, got a job and today is a productive, hard-working employee. Despite another scrape with the law, he is off probation. Most importantly for me, our once-fractured relationship has been repaired and is closer than ever.
But my wife says that had she not been—as his natural parent—laid down the law that night after feeling that presence on the street, today who knows where he would be. Or, if he’d even be alive.
The spiritual component of life is difficult to grasp. You can’t taste it, touch it or photograph it. Yet you can feel it.