“Sometimes the waiting nearly breaks us, but one day grace turns the corner, and we realize the ride was never ours to control.”
Yesterday’s waiting was unlike all the other waitings.
I was anticipating the end of Sheldon’s 500-mile bike ride, but I was also anticipating his one-year sobriety date, the day we had all prayed for, wished for, begged for, and prayed for some more.
Most of my waiting up to this point had been the kind of waiting that no parent ever wants to know. Waiting to see if you are alive somewhere. Waiting to see if the rehab, the counselor, the detox, the jail, the hospital, the death, the loss, would finally make a difference. None of it does.
The things that would scare a logical human into sobriety do nothing to move the needle. Logic does not seem to matter. Consequences don’t seem to matter. And sadly, even death is not always a deterrent.
There was nothing, absolutely nothing, that I could do in my human power except wait for you to make a different choice. And that waiting was not peaceful waiting. It was crippling and anxiety-producing. To survive it, sometimes I was stoic, and at other times I did not want to get out of bed. I felt like I had failed at the only thing that mattered most to me, being a loving, guiding, influential, good parent.
But this ride did not start with you. It started in my original family. No, not even my original family, but with my grandfather, whose alcoholism made him walk away from my mother with her little heart and arms outstretched, begging him to stay. She was six years old.
I have already addressed in other notes how many of my family members have fallen to the disease of addiction. It has been almost plague-like, with an impact that has shaped every part of my life.
I wish I knew the formula. I wish there had been something I could have followed, something I could have done, something I could have taken and used to stop all the years of pain caused by family addiction. If there was only something I could do. But through the years, I have learned that the ride is not mine to take.
Only the addict can get on a different path of their choosing. There was nothing, and there is nothing, that I can do but wait. And while I am waiting, I choose to live a life of meaning and purpose in spite of it, and many times, because of it.
The contrast of an addict is that they are often the best and the worst, and there seems to be no middle road. Their capacity for goodness and value to themselves and to others becomes exponential with the gift of hard-earned recovery. It seems that most of the people in my life who have experienced a high level of adversity and tragedy also have an equal capacity for delight.
And I saw that delight this past week as I waited for Sheldon to come around the corner from his 500-mile bike ride with his Rukus to Relief adventure. He, along with several fellows, rode bikes from Louisiana to Panama City. They were fighting all the elements, and I believe much of those elements were themselves. And by golly, they did it.
They did it because they had a mission to raise money for kids who could not afford skateboards. Their mission, led by Daniel Barousse, was to get kids off the couch and get them moving, enjoying the outdoors, and enjoying each other.
The waiting that day was such a fun and peaceful waiting, but also exhilarating. I could not wait to see my sober son and all his friends turn that corner. I could not wait to see the smile, the strength, the joy, and the proof that one day at a time can turn into something beautiful and powerful.
I am thankful that our ride has gotten us here today. We have today. That one day at a time. And I am so grateful for all the people who have loved and supported our family along the way.
I pray for all the mamas and the daddies and the sisters and brothers and spouses who are still waiting. I pray that in your waiting, you have others like I have had, people who will wait with you, pray with you, love you, and remind you that you are not alone.
Please know there is nothing you can do other than allow your loved one to find their recovery. And in the meantime, live your life in such a way that you can show the way, without allowing the choices of others to take away the ride that was meant for you.
With the greatest of Love,
Karen Key Smith
Be Sweet Y’all!!!
