Statistics say that two out of three people suffering from depression never seek treatment. Of those that do, many discontinue treatment for a variety of reasons, including side effects from medication, financial concerns, and so on.
Son quit taking his medication, saying that he could not handle the side effects and besides, it wasn't helping. Even my Oscar-worthy performance of the toolbox analogy did not sway him. Because he was legally an adult, I had no option but to pray. I prayed fervently for several years, despairing as I watched him slip down, down, down. In constant fear, I truly expected that any day he would take his own life.
That's when my prayer changed from the begging, pleading, heal-him-quick prayer to the scariest prayer I think I've ever prayed. Because God does His best work when we hit rock bottom, I prayed that God would take my son down to rock bottom so that he would have no choice but to seek treatment. Following that and overwhelmed with fear of what would happen, I prayed as the father did in Mark 9:24 "Immediately the boy’s father exclaimed, “I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!”
God answered my prayer by allowing my son to hit his rock bottom. I didn't know it at the time. And to this day, I do not know what happened.
But I got a phone call.
It was a mental health care facility. The lady on the other end of the line told me who she was, and that my son was sitting in her office. Apparently had been for hours. The only reason she could talk to me was that my son, an adult, had given his permission.
She said my son was in serious condition. A high suicide risk. He had told her that he and his dad liked outdoor sports, hunting, fishing, and that we owned guns. My son could not come home, she said, until I promised that all guns and weapons would be locked up and stay that way. Without hesitation, I promised. Told her of the fireproof gun safe with double combinations plus a key that my husband owns.
And then I broke down and cried, and told her that I had prayed for this moment. That I had known for years that my son needed help, and how I was so relieved it had come to this point. I begged her to tell me what I could do to help him. Anything, I said. We'll do anything. She relayed both my relief and my question to my son. He thought for a moment and replied that he didn't want me crying when he came home. Again, I promised. That was easy. But that was not really the answer I wanted, unfortunately, that was the only answer I got.
When son arrived home a couple hours later, I hugged him tight, as tight as I could. Told him I loved him. Told him I was proud of him. Told him he could count on mom and dad to help him in any way we could.
He went to his room and again, closed the door, shutting me out.
That day changed us all. Some changes for the better. Some changes for the worse.
There is hope for your future, declares the Lord, and your children shall come back to their own country. Jeremiah 31:17
No comments:
Post a Comment