Thinking Eternity

Shortly after Christopher’s death, my husband and I were blessed to take a trip to Alaska.  The scenery was breathtaking! It was a much needed reconnect time with the hubs.  (Hubs is a name I fondly use to refer to my husband, my partner in crime and my soulmate, Blake).  I had taken the trip years back but was excited to share the experience and beauty with him.  The reality was that everywhere I turned all I could think of was “Christopher would love this.  I wish he were still here to experience it with me.”  About half way through our trip, Blake and I were standing in awe of God on top of a glacier.  It was like breathing in heaven.  The contrast between the ice and rock formations and lush greenery was drastic.  The ice rivers were crystal clear and the ice radiated beautiful jewel tone blues.  I stepped away from the group and took a moment to thank God for his majesty and the opportunity to witness it and again I thought “Christopher would love this.  I wish he were here to experience it with me.”  Tears streamed down my face and in that moment, God whispered, “Chrissy, don’t you think that Chris is thinking the same thing? Don’t you think he is saying “Momma, I wish you could see this!  I wish you were here to experience heaven with me!”  I could see that goofy grin and hear him laugh and say “Really mom?  You want me to swap my view and experience here in heaven to come hang out with you on that thing that looks like an ice cube from here?” Then I remembered the scriptures that so vividly describe heaven.

Revelations chapter four says: After this I looked, and there before me was a door standing open in heaven. And the voice I had first heard speaking to me like a trumpet said, “Come up here, and I will show you what must take place after this.” At once I was in the Spirit, and there before me was a throne in heaven with someone sitting on it. And the one who sat there had the appearance of jasper and ruby. A rainbow that shone like an emerald encircled the throne. Surrounding the throne were twenty-four other thrones, and seated on them were twenty-four elders. They were dressed in white and had crowns of gold on their heads. From the throne came flashes of lightning, rumblings and peals of thunder. In front of the throne, seven lamps were blazing. These are the seven spirits of God. Also in front of the throne there was what looked like a sea of glass, clear as crystal.  In the center, around the throne, were four living creatures, and they were covered with eyes, in front and in back. The first living creature was like a lion, the second was like an ox, the third had a face like a man, the fourth was like a flying eagle. Each of the four living creatures had six wings and was covered with eyes all around, even under its wings. Day and night they never stop saying:

“‘Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty, who was, and is, and is to come.”

Whenever the living creatures give glory, honor and thanks to him who sits on the throne and who lives for ever and ever, the twenty-four elders fall down before him who sits on the throne and worship him who lives for ever and ever. They lay their crowns before the throne and say:

 “You are worthy, our Lord and God,
    to receive glory and honor and power,
for you created all things,
    and by your will they were created
    and have their being.”

I couldn’t help but laugh to myself thinking “there is no way Chris would trade his perspective of the Kingdom of God for mine.” Jasper, ruby, emerald, gold.  Thunder and lightening and seas of glass.  The sound of praise echoing through the universe.  Peace that passes understand washed over me.  The yearning for Chris to experience this earthly life with me dissipated.  God reminded me that Chris could not get any closer to the father than he currently is until the return of Christ.  He is now able to experience his relationship with Christ without the weight of sin for eternity.  

There is nothing more a mother could want for her child than for that child to be healthy, happy and whole.  We strive from their birth to protect them from the evil of this world even through we know deep down we can not protect them.  Only God can.  We selfishly want to witness all the good this life has for our children, yet we pray fiercely that God would protect them from all of the bad.  All of which is temporary.  Who am I that God loves Christopher and me so much that he would receive him into heaven at the “early” age of 25 years old.  I am so humbled that He chose my first born son to spare from the ugliness of this world and our own sin nature.  Yes, my heart is broken for his son, myself and all the others that are experiencing the pain of his loss. Chris was alive in Christ in the flesh having been saved by grace, but now, not only is he alive in Christ, his earthly body is dead to sin.  He is able to worship at the feet of Jesus without the restless pull of sin in his life.  What freedom for him!  This momma’s heart is jealous but also has 100% confidence and security that her first born child is healthy, happy and whole.

Father, I lift up all those parents that are hurting from the loss of a child. May the truths of your kingdom and the promise of eternity bring them peace that passes understanding and turn their mourning into joy.  In Jesus Name! 

Broken and Hurting Does Not Equal Contagious

I walked into juvenile court. My heart heavy, yet full of hope. Young boys shackled together by chains around their wrist and ankles. All of them dressed in matching jumpsuits, their faces full of fear and hurt. The only differentiating trait was their hair color and cut. They reminded me of the lost boys in the movie Peter Pan. Drawn by the lights and carnival atmosphere, they have been sucked into the vortex of sin.  My heart broke into pieces.  Inside I was crying out to God to guard their young minds and hearts. Let them see Jesus. The one who will never leave them or forsake them. Let them experience the full love of Christ. Children being parented by the State of Texas. I could only imagine the trauma their undeveloped brains had witnessed. The adult lives they had been exposed to instead of protected from. 

The devil would like nothing better than to steal the hearts and minds of our impressionable children but God said “children are a gift from God; they are a reward from him.” Psalms 127:3. Are these children part of a generational curse? “Yet he does not leave the guilty unpunished; he punishes the children and their children for the sins of the parents to the 3rd and 4th generation.” Exodus 34:6. That stings. I know I have generational curses that have been passed down through my family. Sin may cause you little pain now but it could be detrimental in the lives of your children and grandchildren later. 

Only Christ can break the curse and bondage within my life, the lives of my children and grandchildren. The precious lives of those young boys. Your life. He tears down the strongholds in our life when we surrender to Him. He breaks the generational curses over your family. He died on the cross for our bondage. He died on the cross for our broken. He died on the cross knowing we would be a muddy mess. 

I look around the courtroom and grieve. I wonder how many people really know the hurt and pain of these families and children?  I also wonder how many know but look down their noses and don’t want to get their hands dirty. How many feel like it is someone else’s problem?  We live in our sterile world pretending we have a perfect life. We dabble in superficial relationships. Relationships that are just deep enough to feel good about ourselves but not deep enough to walk along beside them through their mess. Maybe we say, that is not my problem but the truth is as Christians, it is our problem. Christ says we are to serve the least of these. We are to care for the orphans.  How is it that children show up in court with no one who cares?

These kids in court are just a small picture of a bigger problem. I wonder how many of these kids and broken families have possibly crossed my path. Have they lived in my neighborhood? Showed up at my church? Did I spend five minutes waiting in the grocery store line with them pretending I was preoccupied so I didn’t have to engage?  How about you?  Did you miss a kind word? An opportunity to see the pain in someone else’s life and the opportunity to engage. To share hope. When are we going to start getting dirty and living life with people in the broken and dark places? Trust me. Broken and hurting does not equal contagious. There is great risk though. The risk of freedom from the dark and broken places that may be revealed in our own life. Maybe that’s it. Maybe we are scared our own short comings and fallen nature will fall out of the closet when we attempt to help someone else dig out of the dark into the light of Christ. 

By the grace of God, within this particular courtroom I could identify lawyers, a judge, prosecutors, directors of the juvenile system, court reporters, probation officers and so many others who love Jesus and sacrifice their time and talents to love these kids. They are not only a voice for their future but a voice of hope. The hope of Christ. As these men and women pour into these youth I wonder???

What if we could raise more Christians within the juvenile system that could share the love, hope and trust in a father who will never leave them or forsake them. What if we quit pretending to be preoccupied standing in the grocery line? What if we approached that mom trying to carry her dirty little boy out to her car with a gallon of milk and offered her a hand rather than look upon her with disgust and criticism of her care for her child. How about the man sweeping parking lot? Do you ever consider the lady or man that makes sure the gas station or airport bathroom is clean? So many opportunities, yet just like you, I become self absorbed living in my sterile word. 

Father God, thank you for the many gifts we have to offer others. Help us learn to live outside of our selfishness. Aware of those hurting around us. Help us be willing to make sacrifices in our own lives so we can be a voice for others. Help us show your unconditional love and grace. Amen.

Much love,

Chrissy

My World Went Dark…

Today marks the 6th anniversary of the day my world went dark.  You would be 32 this year.  Your baby boy will turn 7 in ten days.

The day you were born was filled with hope and joy.  Hope for my future at the young age of 18 and hope for yours.  I held you, my first born baby, and immediately I knew I would never know another love like yours.  Just like I will never know another love like your brothers in the moment I held each one of them.  You settled me.  You became an extension of me.

So wise and so very funny.  You were the voice of reason for your brothers and I, and the voice of risks as well.  You lived life wide open.  You loved the unloved. You stood up for the bullied and stood in the ditch with the homeless.  Your love never saw race, religion, or gender.  Your love only looked at the heart.  You were fiercely loyal to your friends even if their selfishness prevented them from reciprocating.

My world went dark March 21, 2016.  I can feel the anxiety and panic in the air as it rises up in my body.  I vacillated between knowing something was terribly wrong and hope.  

It is as if that day is now in slow motion.  The ring of the phone. Confusion, panic, trying to call you, trying to call anyone who might know where you were. Running over to your house, beating on the door….a glimmer of hope when a friend said you checked into your class at school.

I stood in your yard as the officer pulled slowly through our gate and crept down the drive.  I held my breath.  The car door opened, the officer stepped out.  His mouth was moving, but all I could hear as I dropped to the ground was the eerie wails of a dying animal.  I did not realize the gutteral sound shattering the silence was my own.  The smell of dirt was powerful mixed with tears and snot.

Numb, unable to put a thought together or remember where I put my glasses, looking for my phone while I was talking on it, moving from one piece of furniture to another, lack of desire to live, anger, exhaustion, confusion, my yes’ always looking like good intentions with a cancelation on the end.

It was as if those joyful, sometimes sad, sometimes hard, sometimes not, pieces of our family collided with an oversized fat cat that jumped in the middle of the table and turned it over destroying our family puzzle and spilling it all over the floor.  The violence of the fall reverberated through every inch of my being.

I would wake in the morning praying it was all a bad dream, then I would see the pieces of that puzzle scattered all over the floor.  Debilitating pain would sear my body as my mind reminded my heart the puzzle would never be able to be put together again.  

I could not imagine that there would ever be another puzzle.  I knew the pieces that were left would never ever fill the space of the piece of you but I had no idea, even in grief, it would reshape itself.  Some pieces fell away and new pieces were added.

I ache to hold you.  My tears still spill unexpectedly.  The memories I was so scared I would lose after your death are in vivid color.  I can hear your laugh, your sarcasm, your disgust.  I can see you making faces back at yourself in every mirror you encounter.  I see you in your baby.  He is a Mimi and a Momma’s baby just like you were.  He loves to read, play games and fact checks me often. 

I never knew a heart could break and experience great joy all in the same space until you went home to be with Jesus. I desperately wish you were still here in the middle of all the moments, but I am not sure I would ask you to come back if I could, unless, of course, it was for Jackson and Lauryn’s sake.  I am positive if I did you would laugh that big ole laugh like I had lost my mind.

I know you're whole and living your best life in heaven.  I am thankful for the promise of heaven and that I will see you again.  

I miss you son.

In memory of the first son to ever hear my heartbeat.

Christopher Parrish Barrow

Love,

Mom

Violent/Broken/Bloodied/Bruised/Restored

Violent/Broken/Bloodied/Bruised/Restored

“Your son is dead. We think he may have swerved to miss a deer and lost control”.  Collapse, shock, saltwater waves pouring over my head sucking me under, burning my lungs, stinging my eyes. I want to reach out to comfort others around me that are feeling the impact but I can feel nothing, hear nothing. Paralysis. His natural body lay in an open field as the angels escorted his soul to heaven. He is finally whole for all eternity. Never to be bloodied, broken or bruised again (physically or emotionally). Christopher Parrish Barrow, age 25, experienced physical death in that moment. My first born son. 

If you have never experienced the death of a child, you will never fully understand the paralyzing pain of the loss. I am not minimizing the pain of loss of other loved ones. Unfortunately, I have also experienced the pain of the loss of my earthly father, a spouse, my grandparents and dear friends. Yet, in my personal experience, nothing compares to the loss of my child. 

There is no relief from the weight of grief. That beautiful child I carried in my womb. The beat of my heart, the first sound that he heard. The boy that taught me about unconditional love, sacrifice, selflessness. A 3 year old that asked “Mommy how can Jesus live in your heart?  There are too many bones in there.”.  My sinner/saint. Aren’t we all? A young man who chose spiritual life through his savior Jesus Christ. The man that was drawn to the lonely, who poured his life into “the least of these”.  A young man I watched take his first drink in college, struggle with alcoholism, struggle to find his calling in life, his choice of friends and denial by some family, that bred death instead of life, unequally yolked relationships, engaged to be married, a new baby. So much joy, fear, anxiety, hope. Son/Brother/Fiancé/Daddy/Provider.  A man after God’s own heart.

The pain and suffering of watching him make destructive choices I could not change nor control was almost unbearable yet it was just a glimpse into the pain that was to come. I am so very grateful that God gave me eyes to see and the wisdom and knowledge to get him help, but it did not mitigate the hurt and destruction his addiction was causing me and others who were intimately engaged, eyes wide open, trying to help him in his struggle and trying to love him through it. Having a front row seat to my son’s alcoholism/addiction also gave me a front row seat to God’s power and provision. I witnessed God’s grace in action and the nudge of the Holy Spirit in Christopher’s life. It blossomed and bloomed into a beautiful testimony. It strengthened his desire to show Jesus to his new son. To exemplify the characteristics of a Godly father and husband to his future wife and son. How he honored me as his mother, a bond so deep and unique no deception, deceit, or self-serving lies could destroy it. How he counseled and loved his brothers and friends. 

Sleepless nights of worry. Where is he? What is he doing? Who is he hanging out with? What is his emotional and physical state? Has he relapsed? Will I get that call? Will he hurt himself or someone else?  How would his consequences affect his future, his sons future, his soon to be wife’s future? I’m just not sure how much more I can take.

I’m going to boldy jump out there at the risk of criticism and judgment and share something most parents that have walked the road of addiction with their children are so very ashamed to express. I pray my raw honesty will bring spiritual freedom and healing for those that need to know they are not alone. Sadly, as with many parents who are struggling with a child who is battling addiction, there is a momentary relief from worry and relief that your child no longer has to suffer through addiction in those finite moments of hearing the proclamation of death....followed by a profound sense of guilt in feeling that fleeting moment of relief.  I knew Chris was safe and with Jesus. Little did I know that worry would turn into sleepless nights of agony and loss for over many years. Loss of hopes and dreams for his future. Loss of hopes and dreams for his son. Loss of a brother. Loss of a friend. Loss of relationships. Loss of my desire to live.

ACHE, HEAVY, OPPRESSIVE. An elephant sitting on on my chest. One more wave... will I catch my breath??  At least his presence on earth provided this mother’s heart some hope. A heart that was 100% confident that God would bring glory and restoration as He used Chris for His kingdom. As most parents, I whole heartedly believed that my sons life would impact the world for the better. As a Christian mother, I whole heartedly believed my child would find his purpose and flourish in service for the Kingdom of God in life. Never had I considered Chris’ impact could or would happen after his physical death. Seven or more who were saved at his funeral not to mention countless others since then. The glory and assurance of life after death.

I admire the parent who intentionally orchestrated his son’s death to bring life. Many days I feel sorry for myself and wallow in my self-pity. On days like that I have to remind myself about the story of the father who had a perfect son. Blameless, obedient, grounded in his purpose for the Kingdom of God. He was a joy to his mother and father, never bringing heartache or worry as he walked this earth in his physical body. He discipled others, taught and mirrored unconditional love, healed the sick and broke all the rules to bring hope, love and life to “the least of these”.  The son’s father saw how broken the world was and he made a decision. He chose his son to be the sacrificed for our sins, our stupidity, our pride, our addictions, our selfishness, our blatant disobedience. He poured out his life on earth but more importantly he poured out his life in death for me and for you. 

Let’s be real. There is absolutely NO way I would willingly sacrifice my children for anyone else’s baggage/sin. I’m ashamed to say, I feel pretty sure I would look around and say “God, surely there is someone else’s son who could be sacrificed. I know he has screwed up, I know he makes dumb decisions, but I am not sacrificing him for you or anyone. Oh, and don’t forget he is fallen because of a choice Adam and Eve made in the garden, and you are the one who created them.”  God could have said “hey, my son is blameless. He has healed, restored, fought his enemies valiantly for my kingdom and loved his neighbors. He has obeyed my commands. I’m not giving him up for your stupidity and brokenness. In fact, I think I will just let all of you suffer the consequences of hell based on Adam and Eve’s choice.”

Do you see the connection?  Do you see the difference? 

Blameless...and then..

Violent/Broken/Bloodied/Bruised

God looked at Chris, he looked at you and me and said “I love you”. In spite of your choices, addiction, brokenness, disobedience. I love you so much I am going to sacrifice my only son for you. He will be shamed, ridiculed, beaten, and hung on the cross for you. His mother and I will watch and grieve. I will endure the pain of my child being stripped, beaten, accused for your stupid choices. His flesh will hang from his body, nails will be driven through his hands and feet crushing his bones. His blood will spill out on the earth. I will send my perfect son to suffer for your imperfections.  Think about how his father felt knowing he would have to experience the death of his child to bring life to you and me. 

God raised his precious son from the grave to sit at the right hand of God the Father just as he promised. A father who endured the pain of a parent who has lost a child. He sent and watched his son die and then rise from the grave to join him for all eternity. A father, our father, who knows the pain and the ache intimately of losing a child. He also knows the overwhelming joy of being reunited with his son when he rose from the grave to reign in all of heaven and earth for eternity. 

Just like my broken, bloodied, bruised child, Christ died physically but is alive spiritually for all eternity. Those who are saved will only experience physical death. Those who are not will experience physical death, spiritual death and a second death of hell for all eternity. This mother’s heart thinks of the violent wreck, my sons broken physical body and his restoration to glory. No more tears, no more pain. Worshiping at the feet of Jesus.  I walk through this life anxiously awaiting my reunion with him never to be separated again. Chris was saved by grace, received by the angels in death and is worshiping at the feet of The Almighty. In this there is hope even as I battle the waves of paralyzing grief. 

Lord, let me and others that have experienced loss or the struggle of addiction, remember that you know our pain and struggles intimately. That you love us more than we can imagine. That we are to walk daily in your love sharing it with others that are broken just like we are. Bringing hope to those that feel so alone. Lord I lift other parents up to you who have lost their children. Bring them peace that passes understand knowing that they are not alone, that the God of the universe intimately understands their hurt and pain. May they give themselves a lot of grace through their journey of grief. 

#embracingthemess  #addiction #lossofason

Breaking The Stronghold

About a month ago I was in a conversation with my cousin and we were talking about identifying strongholds that the devil has had on our life so that we can release them to God.  I have to say I have wrestled with the answer I am about to give you, but God spoke very clearly to me when he told me that my children were Satan’s stronghold.  I have allowed Satan to use my children and my undying love for them to keep me in bondage and to keep me from putting my trust completely on the solid rock of Jesus. That became even more evident when Christopher died.   If I am being blatantly honest, I am ashamed to say that I would lay down my life in a heartbeat for my children, but I have not always been able to say, I would lay down my life for Christ and His Kingdom, nor would I have chosen Christ over my children.  I began to really assess what God was saying to me. In Matthew 10:37, the bible says, “Anyone who loves their father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; anyone who loves their son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me.”  This verse struck my heart.  My sin piercing deep.  Great remorse spilled forth.  The sorrow of my sin that once again proved me unworthy of the grace Jesus so freely pours out on me.  I knew I loved Jesus, I knew I was saved by grace, but I wanted to learn to love Jesus more than anything, even my own flesh and blood.  My children.  

I had my first son when I was 18 years old. By the young age of 23, I was a mom of three.  Those boys have been my life line.  They were not just a gift from God, they were mine alone.  When everything else was falling apart around me, they were always there.  My steady, my rock.  I could not see a purpose for my life outside of being their mom. My boys were more important than my own life and certainly more important in my life than even my spouse. They became my idol.  The thing my heart was set upon above the things of God and my obedience to God’s word. My priorities were completely skewed, and I was in blatant disobedience of God’s word.  I am not saying I would not have had struggles with my children or in my marriages if I had my priorities in line, but I am saying that my disobedience in that area of my life caused extra unnecessary heartache for my children and me.  

I was raised in a home where there was no doubt I was loved, but it was also an environment of deception and manipulation. The lack of a Godly example in a father figure and husband left me extremely confused.  Frankly, I did not trust any man to care for me or my children the way I could.  That included God.  I honored my children above my spouse.  I honored my children above my God. Please don’t miss understand me.  I am in no way throwing stones or shame and blame.  My life has not always displayed a Godly example of a mother or wife and even today I fall short. I simply share that fact with you, so you understand how Satan used it and my own disobedience to keep me in bondage.

It wasn’t until my boys were in their pre-teen years, when God brought a man into my life that loved me the way Christ loves the church, that I begin to truly understand and respect the husband and wife relationship.  He patiently loved me into “wifehood”.  He also showed me, by example with my boys, what fatherhood should look like.  Not perfect by any means, but perfectly ours and most definitely used by God for my spiritual growth.  I began to understand that my marriage was more important than my children and that I could trust a man to keep his word and take care of the boys and me.  I am also certain God put me in a position of being his full-time caregiver when he became ill to teach me how to honor my spouse and my marriage over my children. Even though it was hard, I loved taking care of him.

Through that marriage, God also brought strong Christian women in to my life that loved me fiercely and unconditionally. That is saying a lot, especially considering there was a large age difference between Ron and me. They could have chosen to treat me nasty and as an outcast, but instead they embraced me and made me their own. They have no idea how much that impacted my life.  I watched their every move.   Their example of Godly marriages had a huge impact on my growth.  Five, in particular, that I admire the most (and I hope they won’t mind if I mention) are the Bright’s, Nassar’s, Abercia’s, Mousa’s, and Kamel’s.  Those five women, the Abercia women and Mrs. Harris and the Harris women have taught me so much. I will never be able to fully express my love and gratitude for their unconditional friendships. Even then, those relationships did not change my idol of my children, but they did encourage me to be a better wife and taught me the importance of putting your husband above your children and also how important women relationships are in our life. 

In his early adulthood, my 1st born son took his first drink and soon after I began to realize he was an alcoholic. A disease that was passed down through generations.  He was a binge drinker.  He may not drink but once every six months, but when he did, he couldn’t stop at just one. If there was one, there were ten. His addiction impacted my life, his brothers and the lives of strangers.  The rest of his family and friends lived in a state of denial which gave Satan a stronger stance to try to convince me that Chris was just going through a phase, but the Holy Spirit, over a period of time, kept bringing things to light. Satan used his addiction to keep our family in a state of confusion. God is not a God of confusion. I knew this to be true, and Chris’s addiction was definitely causing confusion, but I had a terrible time applying that to one of the idols of my heart.  My child. My god, my purpose, my pride, Satan’s stronghold.  My middle child became the lost child and my youngest finally rebelled and smoked his first joint the day I buried my husband.  None of us knew how to cope.  My emotions, reactions, successes and failures had always been dictated by the actions, reactions, success and failures of my children.  It is where I placed my worth.  My purpose. Chris’s addiction magnified that a billion times over.    

Chris had been in a wreck that injured a young lady. My heart was broken for him and for her and her family.  Part of the fallout from that was that I too was ostracized and took the shame and blame for my son’s actions.  His dad was hands-off, so even he did not have to experience the pain Chris’ addiction was causing the boys and me.  Just to name a few of those moments, Mothers Against Drunk Drivers refused to allow me to be a member because of Chris’s bad choices and destruction, here I am crying “I am a Mother AGAINST Drunk Driving!”.  The victim liaison moved my husband (who was then in a wheelchair and on oxygen) all around the courtroom at one of Chris’s hearings just to prove her point.  Satan used it to tell me I was not a good mother.  That I should have done more.  That I failed Chris.  That I was failing my other boys.  That Chris’s disease was somehow my fault.  That God’s promises were not true.  That God didn’t care about my hurt and suffering.  That the whole world thought I was an awful parent, “see even MADD will no longer accept your membership dues”.  His father told Chris and I both that “I was just over reacting”. My emotions were on the ride of their life.  Super highs and super lows.  Satan constantly whispering in my ear.  You are not enough.  You are a failure. 

Christopher, in true addict fashion, became the master of deceit and manipulation in order to hide his drinking from me.  Those periods of time when he was sober were an oasis.  I had no greater joy than to hear that my child was walking in the truth once again. (3 John 1:4) I would see him working his program, working on his relationship with God, working on himself, setting goals, hanging out with positive peers and then, Satan would begin whispering in his ear that he was not enough, he was disappointing everyone in his life, he would never be good enough. The phone would ring, and my reality and heart would shatter all over again.  I would climb back on that rollercoaster trying to love him but not enable him. Satan would climb into the seat next to me and try to remind me of all of my failures. Ironically, I was crying out to the God I didn’t fully trust to care for my children the way I did to save Chris from himself.  

It wasn’t until I found a support group of other parents that were dealing with the same thing that Satan’s stronghold began to breakdown in my life.  The Holy Spirit used them to encourage me and support me.  I am sad to say, it wasn’t my church or my Christian friends or even Chris’s friends that stood by me through Chris’s addiction, with the exception of those friends that were battling addiction themselves.  It made them uncomfortable when I tried to talk with them.  They couldn’t relate.  His friends and other family did not want to admit that he had a problem.  To admit that our children suffer from addiction takes an examination of oneself.  It can be ugly, but it is necessary if we want to support our children through recovery. I’m sure many were just praying it wouldn’t happen to their children.  Possibly some were thinking “I am a much better parent than she is, I am sure it won’t happen to my children.”  “Have you seen all the bad choices she has made?  Of course her kid is an addict!”. Lies, lies, lies, all of the devil, to cause division. I felt isolated.  Lonely.  There were hundreds of sleepless nights wondering, worrying, riddled with anxiety. The roller coaster of hope when the disease was held at bay and Satan was roaming the earth looking for others to destroy until he returned seven-fold. Matthew 12:43-45 says “Now when the unclean spirit goes out of a man, it passes through waterless places seeking rest, and does not find it. “Then it says, ‘I will return to my house from which I came’; and when it comes, it finds it unoccupied, swept, and put in order. “Then it goes and takes along with it seven other spirits more wicked than itself, and they go in and live there; and the last state of that man becomes worse than the first. That is the way it will also be with this evil generation.”  This was very much what my son’s addiction looked like. It is the pattern of addiction for most.

Still, I refused to fully turn my children and their well-being over to the God who created them.  He was a man, He was a father and I didn’t trust either!  My track record with men stunk.  Since Chris’s death, I have begun to understand that God is completely in control.  “He got up, rebuked the wind and said to the waves, “Quiet! Be still!” Then the wind died down and it was completely calm.  He said to his disciples, “Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?”  (Mark 4:39-40). He loves our children.  He created them for his pleasure and purpose.  “For you created my inmost being: you knit me together in my mother’s womb.  I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.” (Psalm 139:13-14) He can be trusted. “For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that people are without excuse.” (Romans 1:20), and He alone should be the idol of our heart.  “You shall have no other gods before me.” (Exodus 20:3). New mommies take heed as you struggle to balance motherhood and being a wife.  It is so very easy to overlook our relationship with God and/or our spouse and allow our children to become the idols of our heart.  

In the aftermath of Chris’s death, Satan once again tried to use my children as a stronghold and attempted to even use my grandchildren as a stronghold.  He used Chris’s addiction and his personal choices to try to convince me that I am terrible mother even though God tells me I am not.  My children are at the age of accountability and responsible for their own choices and walk with Christ.  The difference this time was that God had become the idol of my heart. The anxiety and stress of not only his death but the aftermath threw my physical body into rejection of itself and I am now battling an autoimmune disease, but I will not be shaken. God still remains faithful and so will I. I will choose to stand on God’s promises rather than jump on that rollercoaster that Satan loves to ride next to me on whispering lies in my ear.  I have watched Satan use his minions, wolves dressed in sheep’s clothing, (https://www.crosswalk.com/faith/spiritual-life/5-ways-to-recognize-a-wolf-in-sheep-s-clothing.html) to manipulate and deceive people I have loved for years and thought the world of, all for the sake of pride and greed. The hurt and betrayal cuts deep, but instead of allowing the devil to steal my joy, this season of trials has strengthened my faith. “What you intended for harm, God has used for my good.” (Genesis 50:20) God’s truths tell me that my God goes before me to fight my battles. “For the LORD your God is the one who goes with you to fight for you against your enemies to give you victory.” (Deut. 20:4) “He is my loving God and my fortress, my stronghold and my deliverer, my shield, in whom I take refuge, who subdues peoples under me.” (Psalm 144:2)

Most importantly, I have learned to turn my children over to God and release my anxiety about their wellbeing and choices to Him.  This takes constant, intentional practice. They are no longer Satan’s stronghold in my life.  They are children of the King. Set aside and sanctified for His kingdom. Their heritage is of the Lord.  They are His, not mine and He is their father and my father.  Trust worthy, loving, kind, all powerful, fair and just.  He is a good, good father.  He commands me to be anxious for nothing as I bring my praise, my hurt and my requests before him.“Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.” (Philippians 4:6). He keeps his word.  He loves me, and I can truly finally say, that He alone is the idol of my heart and Satan no longer can use my children as a stronghold in my life. Jesus is my stronghold. On the solid rock I stand.  “Do not tremble, do not be afraid. Did I not proclaim this and foretell it long ago? You are my witnesses. Is there any God besides me? No, there is no other Rock; I know not one.”(Isaiah 44:8). “my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield and the horn of my salvation. He is my stronghold (not my children), my refuge and my savior-- from violent people you save me.”  (2 Samuel 22:3)

 “And you, son of man, on the day I take away their stronghold, their joy and glory, the delight of their eyes, their heart’s desire, and their sons and daughters as well—on that day a fugitive will come to tell you the news.At that time your mouth will be opened; you will speak with him and will no longer be silent. So you will be a sign to them, and they will know that I am the LORD.” (Ezekiel 24:25-27)

Thank you, Father God, for removing the strongholds in my life and setting my heart’s desire on you alone.  Forgive me for putting other god’s before you.  May I no longer be silent, may I speak your truth and share my story so that others may know you personally as their rock and their fortress.  The sole idol of my heart. The sole idol of their heart. May they know that you alone are God!

 “He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.  I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.”…He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.  You will not fear the terror of night, nor the arrow that flies by day, nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness, nor the plague that destroys at midday.  A thousand may fall at your side, ten thousand at your right hand, but it will not come near you…For he will command his angels concerning you, to guard you in all your ways…“Because he loves me,” says the Lord, “I will rescue him; I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name.  He will call upon me, and I will answer him; I will be with him in trouble, I will deliver him and honor him…” (Psalm 91:1-16)

Do you have strongholds in your life that the devil uses to hold you in bondage?  I would love to hear your story, share your journey with you and pray for you.