The Addict and The Boy–A Story of Redemption

The Boy was conceived in error, really, if we’re being honest. His father and I had just returned stateside from a difficult two years in Turkey. We had discussed giving our marriage a few months to see if things would improve. But…we got home in August and by September The Boy was conceived.

The following July he was born. I was pregnant for ten months and would have been longer had he not been evicted from my womb. This would not be the sole eviction in his life, but that’s another story for another day.  On the day he was born, I saw his beautiful long fingers curl around my own and I remember crying tears of joy and gratitude believing that this precious baby would be a man someday.

The Ex and I amicably divorced a year later. The Boy would see his dad every other weekend and return to me for happy reunions. I would put him to bed with butterfly kisses and be filled with awe and wonder that this tender boy would be a man someday.

He was a conventional and curious boy; beautiful, with platinum locks and baby blues. He was smart–off the charts smart. I would have meetings with his teachers and they would say he was exceptional. And I would be reminded, with esteem and pride, that this prodigious child would be a man someday.

The Ex remarried. This would begin a succession of step-moms for The Boy. There would be Dina, Gina, Dina (again) and Tina. Except for me (who followed his high school girlfriend, Regina), there was only one other Non-Ina.

I remarried when he was ten. This life change was a mere flesh wound for The Boy, but he didn’t know it at the time. He just knew that his Only Child throne had been dismantled by two half-siblings, courtesy of The Inas, and now two step-brothers from my new marriage. He became estranged from his dad and it was during this phase that he became decidedly less innocent. So I began to wonder with worry and angst…who will love this mixed-up kid when he becomes a man someday?

To say he took some bad turns in life is akin to saying Kennedy once had a bad day in Dallas. My flaxen-haired blue-eyed Boy would become a drug addict. The kind you see on highway billboard signs. The very worst kind. The tumult of seeing someone you love disappear and in his place appear an abhorrent and vile stranger…well, that’s another story for another day. The Addict devoured The Boy so completely that I could no longer find him. I would cry myself to sleep with horror and confusion…and I stopped believing anyone could love this damaged soul someday.

One December day when The Addict said he might kill himself and take The Boy with him, The Boy finally fought back and checked himself into a treatment facility. The Addict begin to let go of the body he had possessed for too many dark days and The Boy reemerged; older now with battle wounds and vacant places where memories should be. He transformed back into a conventional and curious boy but he was nicked and scraped so I prayed that God would bring someone to love this redeemed man someday.

Then…This Girl.

She would not be like the girls he had dated in high school; those children of country-clubbers who went to cheerleading practice and traveled to big cities to shop for clothes. No, This Girl was an old-soul, seemingly plucked from a by-gone era when frugality, high morals and a strong work ethic were expected.

Someday had come for The Boy and SHE would love him. This child of God who never purposely took one wrong turn in her young life, though life would take her on tortuous paths and her journey would not be an easy one–This Girl would love My Boy, now a man, who has been sober now for nearly four years.

He made amends with his dad recently and he got over wishing he was still an only child. All of his brothers stood beside him this summer (and two of the Inas were there)–on his wedding day–when he married This Girl.

Thank you precious Girl, for giving me another story for another day.