The trouble with being accountable.

Early Saturday morning, I got a phone call, from my Son, Zack. He has a broken pelvis, and perhaps a broken back. Of course my anxiety spun out of control. My instinct was to run towards my Son, and fix what was broken.

Alas, my conscience held me away. My Son was in my arms, last week. He was in the hospital, at this time, Sunday, a week ago. On Monday, he checked out, against medical orders. He is not well! He is dying, and he checked himself out. I drove him to a neighboring city, as he requested. I did not offer my home as a shelter. His choice? Hospital or the streets? He chose. and I shattered.

It's Sunday night, and my Son is in pain. I am in pain. It sucks! I have no control of my Adult son's destiny. It is in his hands, and Gods. I can not enable. I can not rescue. It is his life, and the moment he left my womb, I respected that. I wanted to be the best Mom I could be, and I did that. Not perfect, not nearly what I hoped. I was as scared, as you were, my Sons. I was imperfect.

Life is fragile. Nobody is innocent. Love is infinite. I am praying for your life, and your sobriety. It is sadly not my decision.