Sometimes our paths are not straight. Not because the road isn’t, but because our choices make it crooked.
The doorbell rings. Its 3 in the morning. Must be the son who was out on an adventure with friends. He must have decided to come home instead.
The door is opened. A county sheriff’s officer is there to tell us that our child has made some poor choices. No one is hurt. But three young men have changed the trajectory on their paths
Moments later, a text dings that simply says “I’m sorry.”
I don’t have the energy to yell. The previous night I was up until 3:30 a.m. and now I’m getting up at 3 a.m. because I love my son and there is no way I will be able to sleep. Staying awake until I collapse in either tears or exhaustion.
This isn’t his first road hazard. Forced absence, lawyers, charges, and a conviction. Why does he feel the need to zig and to zag? What makes him want to test the steadiness of the road below him?
Numbness doesn’t do justice to how I feel in this moment. Lost, heavy, sad, empty, alone… those and so much more, so much more.
Another “I’m sorry” in text on a screen that is too bright for this time of day. The black sky surrounding him as he rides home with his father who left an hour ago to claim him from the officer(s) that found him and his friends making poor choices.
I pray that this is the last bit of darkness with this son of mine.
Daylight will come… but will it be too late for him to see the beauty that can be seen and the joy that can be had along the path that God has laid out for him?
I pray, that it is not.
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