I awoke this morning feeling drained. Yesterday was a hard day. I woke up later than expected and didn’t make it to the temple as I had planned. I got started working around the house — the garden, the yard, guitar lessons, a few errands — and then we took the kids to a movie: Lilo and Stitch.
The movie was great, by the way. I’ll write something else about that. It was good enough, and seemed to have enough moral value, to be worth reflecting on.
After the movie, my son wanted food and asked to go on a hike. I was exhausted. I needed a few minutes to close my eyes and rest. That — or something else — triggered him. Within 15 to 30 minutes of getting home, he began expressing negative emotions and frustration. This escalated to cursing and talk of suicide. For the next four hours, we waited, hoping he would reset and calm down. But it persisted — and at times, escalated even more.
We ended up calling a crisis line due to the constant threats of suicide. Eventually, the police came to our home, we made a trip to the ER, and checked him into Vantage Point — at one in the morning. An eight-hour, grueling family crisis.
I was sluggish all morning. Frustrated with my child. We are at a loss as to what this means for the long term.
At church today, our neighbor walked up and asked if everything was okay — she had seen the police cars last night. I talked to her briefly about what happened, but my emotions were getting the best of me.
I can admit that I’ve struggled to feel the love of God at times throughout this process. The long, repetitive cycles of crisis have numbed me in some ways. I’ve given in too much. I’ve made too many concessions I normally wouldn’t have made. I want so much for him to grow in love and faithfulness in the Church — and I’m wavering on how, or whether, he can. Maybe he needs to come to his own realization and make his own faith journey.
I guess this is where the faithfulness of the parents comes into play. As for me — I wish I had done more when he was younger. I wish there was more I could do now. It feels like all I can do is fast and pray for him — to continually cry out to the Lord, and water my pillow at night.
Later, I spoke with another neighbor who’s familiar with the crisis. We exchanged experiences, and then we talked about her husband, who has been seeking employment for months.
I began telling her about how I got hired at my current job. I had been unemployed for months and was reaching the point of being destitute. One day, I went to the temple, and as I was leaving, I saw an old neighbor standing in the lobby. I knew he worked for another old neighbor — I had applied for a job with them. I asked him to ask his boss, my old friend, to look at my resume.
Later, I found out that the friend I ran into at the temple had been waiting for 30 to 45 minutes for something that should have taken less than five. He had just told his wife, I think we’re supposed to meet someone here. And then I walked up.
I told my neighbor I understood what they were going through. Even when all the doors feel closed, God can open them in an instant. Just keep doing what you’re supposed to do. As I spoke to her, tears rolled down my face, and the Holy Ghost filled my heart.
I needed that experience. My heart has been heavy. My burdens have felt overwhelming. While answers haven’t come about the path forward for our family or for my son, that moment reminded me God is close. And if He can help someone else through me, it is enough at this moment.