Sorting through a cupboard in my den today, I stumbled upon an old journal. As I flipped through the pages, I found this poem that I etched late one night during a very dark time.
The pages leading up to the poem, are the accounts of an incident between two of my kids. One that I remember well!
Not a poet by nature or practice, this shows how fiercely I am wrestling with the ability to love my kids, forgive them and continue to work towards their health and healing, while surrounded by lies on every side.
Today I take our son to Childrens Hospital for a procedure.
They will scope his stomach and his colon and bring back a sample of the tissue in each to examine.
I don't know what to hope for...that they find something that will give us a clue to why he is 17 years old and only weighs 97 lbs or that they don't find anything and we just march on like this is normal?
During a recent (wonderful!) Adoptive Moms Retreat, I was chatting with some other moms who were struggling with one or more of their kiddos. As they searched for answers on what they could do to resolve some pretty challenging issues, we came to a hard place...should you/is it ever ok/what are the potential pitfalls to calling the police or involving the authorities???
I can't say that I'm an expert, and I certainly don't have all the answers. Every situation, family and child are so very different. But I do want to share a few thoughts that I have gleaned from our situation.