When someone you love has the disease of substance addiction, you wait for that phone call. You pray each and every day the phone call would be the addict themselves, telling you they want to get better and are willing to go to rehab. There is also the fear of the phone call that haunts you, the one that makes your heart wrench each time the phone rings; the call saying they’re gone, they have passed away. Either way, there WILL be a call.
When you’re a child, you don’t recognize the signs of addiction. If your mommy doesn’t do anything except sleep for days, you wash your clothes in the sink and make sure your siblings are taken care of. She’s sick, that’s all. If the bill collectors call or the neighbors come by, just say she is sick. You don’t go into their bedroom, not at all. She’ll scream, hit you, call you names. Don’t cry. Instead, just hang up on the bill collectors. Tell the neighbors she’s in the shower. After all, who doesn’t believe a five year old?
Sometimes, you’ll come home and mommy will be awake, smiling and being funny. Hooray! Mommy isn’t sick anymore, so now she can stop your step daddy from hurting you.
When you are a teenager, you refuse to see the signs of addiction. When you come home from school, the power’s out, it is the dead of winter. Your other two siblings are huddled under blankets. After handing them bags of chips you swiped, you tiptoe to your mom and stepdad’s bedroom. Without making any noise, you walk in; your infant sister is lying in her crib, whimpering. There’s a sneaker in her crib, and you know it was thrown to make her stop crying. You bundle up the newborn and take her to one of your stepdad’s relatives. They’ll care for her. It’s only seven, but you tuck the other two siblings into bed. It’s easier to ignore hunger pains while sleeping.
You start your homework, and listen for the signs of arousal. It nine o’ clock, which is when your step dad will emerge from the bedroom with his baseball bat ready in his hand. You are about to face the consequences for taking the baby somewhere safe. It’s safe to fall asleep around two a.m., but make sure to put your dresser against the door. You may have a nighttime visitor…Regardless, three hours later, you wake up. It’s a new day, time to do it all over again.
Each day, I did it again. The saddest thing about memories of my past is asking myself, “Where were you, God?” As I soothed a crying infant, unable to feed her hunger…Where’d he go? As I explained away bruising, broken bones….did He disappear? After finding Jesus, I realized He never left. Why does it seem as if he left her? Why can’t you make my mom better, Jesus? She can stop, I know she can! Please..don’t let her die.
Please, God. Help. All she had to do is pick up the phone and make that call. Either way….there will be a call.