Freedom in Saying ‘No’ (Part 1)

I have had long standing issues with being an enabler. I had been an enabler in a past relationship, to the point of living in an emotionally abusive state. It was always easier to push life under the rug then to confront it. One day I did find my voice and said ‘NO’. No more pushing it under the rug, no more making pretend that all was ok. That relationship ended.

It must have set precedence in my subconscious that saying No means a relationship will end. Because although I stood firm in that relationship, and didn’t go back to enabling that person, my enabling just took on a new life in another relationship.

For too long I enabled my son, although I didn’t hand him drugs, I certainly caved to his requests over and over again. To which I am ashamed that I aided his addiction, by supplying him with money that didn’t go for his voiced intended need, like new sneakers or money to go to the movies… instead it would go to feed his habit.

I guess I could claim I was naïve…

But being naïve can only last so long.

Hindsight is always our best teacher, when we can see with clear lenses, looking back at our behavior and see how we acted, how we interacted, how we folded when we should have stood firm and learn from it.
It took me a number of years of counseling and insight into my past to see just why saying ‘No’ was so hard for me. And coming to the place where I was able to say…

My name is Susan and I’m an enabler…

It was this past summer when I began reading ‘Setting Boundaries With Your Adult Children’ by Allison Bottke

that I was finally able to say that. In the very first chapter it states…

“Many of us parents in pain dream about seeing our adult children live as independent, functional adult children instead of the dependent, dysfunctional adult children they have become. ..
The first step is for us to accept any part we have played in making our adult children who-and what- they have become. We also need a better understanding of the differences between helping and enabling and the wisdom and willingness to make the necessary changes in our own lives when at last we truly recognize the difference…”

It was in reading her book that I saw just how enabling I was and that there could be freedom in saying NO.

Tomorrow I’ll share the questions from her book that began my journey to The Freedom in Saying No.

To Err of the Side of Grace

We all know the words to the infamous song “Amazing Grace” ~

♫ Amazing Grace how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me… ♫

When the word GRACE is about us we sing it boldly and with tears streaming down our face, so thrilled that God would pour His grace down on us. Grace is God's unmerited favor. That is, grace is God doing good for us that which we do not deserve.

And if you’re anything like me you’ve received God’s grace numerous times.

Many times we have drank in His grace, until we feel full of its rich blessing. Our hearts satisfied with its undeserved sweetness. What a gift His grace is to a weary believer, especially when I’m that weary one. It’s so good when it’s about me.

But what about when it’s about you?
Grace isn’t just about me receiving it, it’s also about me giving it out, extending it to another when they don’t deserve it. That same application of grace to me is extended to you, from me, through Him.

But …

What if I’m right about their sin?

What if they don’t come to the table and work through the conflict?

What if I’m left holding the bag of hurt, disappointment and angst?

There is a list of what if’s… and there is always grace.

Grace extends forgiveness when I want to hold on to my hurt.
Grace gives out love instead of submerging deeper in the conflict.
Grace covers sin, mine and yours.

To err on the side of grace means that I am willing to put aside my ‘right’ to be right and offer to you what Christ offers to me. Grace; sweet, satisfying grace. Do I want to be known as the Women who errs on the side of Grace? Or as the women who holds a grudge? I’ll go with Grace!

Eph 4: 29 – 32
29 Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen. 30 And do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God, with whom you were sealed for the day of redemption. 31 Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice. 32 Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.

When the Phone Rings

It was Friday evening and the phone rang,

my beloved answered it thinking it was my daughter that lives in Plymouth, he answered it with a light sound in his voice, but in just a moment the sound of his voice changed as he handed me the phone and said “its him”.
In an instant a heavy weight was lifted off my shoulders. That’s the only way I can explain it. That moment that comes when your greatest fear has been put to rest and you can breathe easy…

“I just called to tell you I’m back in a rehab”

"Where?"

"I’m in High Point, just got here today"

"good…"

That’s all I could handle at that point. I breathed a huge sigh of relief knowing he was alive and in recovery. I didn’t want to know anymore… not yet. Part of me wanted to ask “WHY”… but the other part of me wasn’t ready to hear it or for that matter to continue talking to him, I was still angry.
“I’ll call you tomorrow”

“you don’t have to call me every day, you can call me when you’re going to make the next step, just work on you"

I slept easy that night for the first time in days.

It would be three more days till I heard from him again. By then I had the guts to ask…

“What happened”?


"I just lost control, I couldn’t take it anymore. The need for drugs was bigger than my need to be at home. I knew…right after I did it I would never be able to go home again. That’s why I couldn’t pick up the phone when you called. I couldn’t talk to anyone. I felt so bad".

He spent the last two weeks on a drug binge that would come crashing down around him, the thought of withdrawal without the help of a rehab was so scary he brought himself to the hospital. This was the first time he would do this all on his own. Each time in the past I would get the call to bring him. This time he manned up and got himself there.

For the first time in years I’m sensing an ownership of all this in my son that has never been there before.

God I know you have given me the strength in this past hardship to completely let go of him. I know he is firmly in your hand.

John 10:28b ~...no one can snatch them out of My hand.

Peace in the Silence

This is day 11 of the silence. A Silence brought on by guilt, shame and addiction.

On January 18th my beloved husband and I did what we thought we would never do again, due to the horrific cold and snow we allowed our son to come back home. Since the beginning of January he had been in and out of our home, spending a night here an afternoon there. Each visit was positive.

On that Monday afternoon he had called asking;

“Please can I come home, the place where I’m staying is not good. It’s filled with drug and alcohol use and I don’t want to get caught up in this”

My beloved and I talked and we thought we would do this one more time, give him the opportunity to succeed. And deal with it if he failed. Going into it with our eyes wide open, hoping against hope that this would be the time he would overcome.

I called my son and said

“You may come to the house, but this is not forever, you will need to start moving forward with your life and there are boundaries…”

And the short list of boundaries was given, the same ones he’s always crossed, walked over, stomped on. Oh how I had hoped that the 6 months of living in Rehabs, Sober houses, and friends couches had brought on a new appreciation for those boundaries. That being essentially homeless and apart from his family would have put a desire in his heart to change.

Luke 15: 13: - 20 says…

13 “Not long after that, the younger son got together all he had, set off for a distant country and there squandered his wealth in wild living. 14 After he had spent everything, there was a severe famine in that whole country, and he began to be in need. 15 So he went and hired himself out to a citizen of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed pigs. 16 He longed to fill his stomach with the pods that the pigs were eating, but no one gave him anything.
17 “When he came to his senses, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired servants have food to spare, and here I am starving to death! 18 I will set out and go back to my father and say to him: Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. 19 I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me like one of your hired servants.’ 20 So he got up and went to his father.

My hopes were that my son had the same repentant heart of the prodigal, that after months of wandering, being able to come home would be such a gift to his heart that it would cause him to rejoice, to find a new beginning. That first Sunday at church he sat through the sermon, crying off and on. I kept praying for him as I knew God must be doing a work on his heart. Those first few days with him at home were so good. He was a help, and he expressed constant thanks, one night at dinner he offered to say grace, his heart honest prayer brought tears to each of our eyes as he thanked God not only for the food, but for the opportunity to be home with his family, he choked up as he prayed.

Yes God, just maybe this is it…he’s going to make it.


Not 24 hours later when my beloved and my little man walked through the door at the end of the day, not only was my son gone, but a number of our belongings as well. Nearly $2,500.00 of electronics.

I immediately tried to call him… no answer; he wouldn’t pick up his phone.

It would be four days before we heard from him, a text coming in to tell us just how sorry he was, that he was nothing more than a drug addict loser. When we pushed him to ask where he was and WHY… the texts ended.

A few days later as I checked his phone use online, his phone use stopped abruptly.

Nothing… no incoming calls, no outgoing calls.

Now for my son that is just out of character, his normal phone use is a call every 3 minutes. I began to worry, really worry. Was he dead… had he been arrested, was he back in a rehab… had he sold his phone too? So many scenarios have gone through my head.

The silence has been deafening to my heart. I am learning to moment by moment place him in my God’s hands. This is a journey that is between him and God. Whatever suffering he is going through God will use, God will not let him go. My heart knows that God will either turn his life around and bring glory to His name, or He will bring him home… and not my home, but to the eternal home where my son will never again face addiction.

I’m at peace in this silence.

John 14:27 Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.

Christmas Minus One

Christmas was coming and my heart had great difficulty adjusting to my son being locked away in Rehab on that day. I kept telling myself...

"he's safe, he's clean, its ok"

This rehab didn't allow visitors and I didn't like the prospect of not being able to see him for the holiday. Now in my head I know its just a Holiday, but in my heart it's a Holiday that says "Family" louder then any other Holiday on the Calendar. And this would be the first time ever that I wouldn't have one of my own around me on this very special day.

The emotions trickled out of my eyes often as Christmas approached. Coworkers and friends were all sharing their family plans, who would be there, whos' house they would go to and this from one coworker..."oh ya my nephew will be coming home from Iraq but it will be a surprise to his mother". Inside my heart was about to burst as it filled with sadness. I would smile on the outside as each relished they're own family's upcoming gatherings. But by the time I'd make it back to my office those emotions had once again found there way trickling out of my eyes.

I remembered the Christmas one of my sisters was in jail. My mom had such a difficult time, her usually guarded emotional shell cracked and the day was filled with moments of tears, and smiles. Some how she managed to both enjoy the day with the rest of her 5 daughters all the while missing the one. Her Christmas tree that year stayed up till Mid March when my sister finally came home. All of us and our children gathered once again for another Christmas, this one would be just for my sister. Those memories of my mom's strength and perseverance gave me hope for the same. My mom had endured much with her wayward daughter and here I was living out the same. I prayed often that God would give me the same strength to press on.

Each morning during the few weeks before Christmas in my prayer time as I lifted my son up to God I would ask...

"if its at all possible Lord, make a way where there seems to be no way, let me see him for Christmas"...

It still amazes me how tender my God is toward me, my prayer was answered, God did indeed make a way where there seemed to be no way. My son called to tell me, His counselor arranged a family meeting two days before Christmas.

"Mom you can come, we get to have a family meeting, but you have to tell me what your bringing, they have to have a list"

"Well that's not fair, that spoils the surprise of Christmas. You tell your counselor to call me and I'll give him the list!"

A few hours later the counselor did call and all but a few things on the list of gifts I had bought were allowed, the others would have to wait. I had to pack them in a simple gift bag, no wrapping paper, nothing overly festive. So I unwrapped the gifts and placed them in a plain red gift bag"

The Thursday before Christmas would be the day I would get to see him, and I was thrilled that it would also be a half day at work. I called my daughter who lived in the same town as the Rehab and headed to her house to wait for the appointed time. It thrilled my heart when she asked if she could come with me. Each of my kids have been affected by their brothers life choices, he had hurt each of his sisters and his little brother. So for her to want to come gladdened this mothers heart. She had spent the day making Christmas cookies with her own children, so we packaged up a few and added them to the plain red gift bag.

We drove the few miles to the Rehab and waited in the parking lot for the last few minutes to pass by so we could go in. We chatted about Christmas at her house in just two days as she would be hosting dinner again this year. As the car clock ticked to 4:00PM we grabbed the plain red gift bag and headed for the door. We barely had asked for him when he was there in front of me for the first time in nearly three weeks. I hugged him somehow with out emotions trickling out of my eyes. He was thrilled to see his big sister as well.

Off to a conference room we went, we would have 30 minutes to visit. His counselor discussed his progress and plans for the near future, to move on to a Long Term Facility. Three months of an intense program, then on to a halfway house. My son seemed engaged in the process and was looking forward to what the possibilities would be for his future. He wanted to put drug addiction to death in his life. He didn't want to live this way ever again. Here it was, God giving me something to hold onto for Christmas, this would be what would get me through the day surrounded by all my family minus one.

The plain red gift bag was lifted to the table, and I must admit there were a few small things in there that weren't on the list. Like a family picture taken at my grandsons birthday just days before my son entered rehab. And those fresh Christmas cookies. the counselor didn't bat an eye. As our thirty minutes came to a close I was pretty impressed with myself that I hadn't let the emotions trickle out my eyes. That is until I stood to hug him good-bye. He must have felt me choking up as he said

"oh mom don't cry"

and I choked out

"too late".

A few seconds later he was walking up the long hall with his plain red gift bag and we were heading out the door back to the car.

Christmas morning came and it was filled with the anticipation of an 8 year old who just couldn't wait to see what was under the tree. Thank you God, thank you for this little man who even though he missed his brother, he just couldn't hold back the emotions that Christmas invokes. So I grabbed onto his excitement, and to the compassion in the eyes of my daughter and husband and gave it my all. We celebrated Christmas with all the joy we had inside us. His joy. The joy of the Savior who's birth we celebrated somehow took over where this mothers heart alone could never have celebrated Christmas minus one.

A New HOPE

It would have appeared that God himself was personally involved in the details, because nothing could have gone quite like this had it not been for His hand fully at work. The job offer came out of nowhere, from a resume that had been submitted nearly 18 months ago. My son was so excited, thrilled, walking on air to have a job back in the field he so loved.

“Mom you have no idea how hard I’ve been praying that God would help me find a job, this is so unbelievable! “

Because of the job and its close proximity to our home we took my son in with some pretty firm boundaries and expectations.

“You have to stay clean, and we’ll give you two weeks to find an apartment or boarding house. We’ll get you to work, but you’ll have to pursue a ride once you move.”

Within days we found the perfect apartment, once again it was so evident that God was at work. The apartment would be three miles from us in one direction and three miles from his work in the other.

I had never been so filled with hope.

Hope: “ the feeling that what is wanted can be had or that events will turn out for the best”

It had been so long since I had such a sense of hope for my son. I was walking on a mountain top. Could it possibly be that finally he was turning a corner? Away from addiction, away from those connected to his addiction. On to a new life, one that the rest of us just consider normal. But for him, it was a new hope a new chance to move on.

Sunday came and he willing came to church with us, he was grinning from ear to ear as he went from person to person to tell of his new life. He too was full of hope.

Monday as I picked him up from work a sense came over me that something wasn’t right.

“My boss was kinda grumpy today, not sure what that was all about”

Then the text came from the boss… "no work tomorrow I’ll call you later for the plan for the rest of the week”

Something didn’t feel right, I kept trying to let it go, to shake it off and grab hold once again to the Hope I had found. But that knot in my stomach just kept growing. By Tuesday evening it was apparent to me that something had happened and what made it very clear was the state my son was in when I got home. It was obvious he was on something. My heart sank and that Mountain Top Hope sank just as deep as it had been high.

He had been fired, not for drugs, but because he couldn’t stop using his cell phone during the day. Texting, phone calls, he had been warned, he didn’t, couldn’t, wouldn’t heed the warning. I keep forgetting that he’s not just an addict its more than that, he has a mental illness.

So many times I’ve said to myself “if he can just stay clean he can have a life, he can move on”

But here I am faced once again with the other side of the equation. The side that promises to rob him of even more, even if he stays clean. My sense of hope plummeted to the point of despair. The tears just didn’t stop flowing. For two days I cried continuously.

Over and over in my heart I heard God say…

“If I bring you to it, I will bring you through it… Do you trust me?”


Do I trust you? Really, really. I trusted you, I thought it was you that gave him the job, that it was you that got him that apartment… it had to be you, there was no way it was him. What is happening? What God do I need to see in this, tell me now please because I don’t want to feel this badly again. This pain, these tears, how much more? My silent rantings before God took on a desperate frenzy. ( I think I understand a bit how Job must have felt)

And then it came, not right way. But in those wee hours of the morning when sleep just won’t come, or stay.

Don’t hope in a job to change him, put that hope in Me. I the Great I AM am the only one who can give true hope for real lasting change.

“Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint” (Isaiah 40:30-31, NIV).

These words came to my mind as I cried out to my God for a renewed hope, a hope that is deep and steadfast, that nothing can knock it off its mountain. A Hope that is eternal not temporal.

"Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord, and whose hope is the Lord. For he shall be like a tree planted by the waters, which spreads out its roots by the river, and will not fear when heat comes; but her leaf will be green, and will not be anxious in the year of drought, nor will cease from yielding fruit.” (Jeremiah 17:5)

This is the Hope I want to have, one with deep roots, that no matter what comes I have placed my hope in the one who can sustain me and my son no matter what comes. Loss of job, mental illness, addiction. There will always be hope IF I place my hope in God.

Today as I have written this a got a call from my son…

“>Mom I can’t be home for Christmas, I’m going to go into a holding place so I can get into North Cottage” (can I tell you just how HUGE this is… it’s HUGE! This is a God sized HUGE!)

God my Hope is in you! I’m digging the roots down deep and holding on to Your HOPE!

The Meeting

Over the last year I have driven countless miles back and forth to Rehabs, well known and long established. These visits consisted of not much more than a 30 minute visitation routine with my son. We’d chat about the food, his roommates or maybe the current sports game. There was always the litany of promises about coming home and staying clean. Three or Four days later after he had detoxed, I’d make the drive one more time to bring him home. It was becoming an endless circle that was going nowhere.

Finally when he “sectioned” himself in September, the endless circle came to an end. There were no visits during the three weeks he was there. A few phone calls, but no visits, one of the calls came with a question…

“Mom will you come to a family meeting”

Now this was a first, a family meeting with a counselor.

“Yes of course we’ll come”

A day or so later his counselor called to set the appointment. Daniel seemed truly interested in my son’s well being and in his success. We would meet on Wednesday night.

All day I wondered what this meeting would be like, what would we hear.

We arrived at the appointed time, and sat in the long locked hallway waiting to meet Daniel and my son. A knot grew in my stomach as I waited to see him.

Would he once again try to manipulate us?

Would I cave in?

Would I be strong?

“Lord God give me your strength, give me your wisdom to know what to do, how to respond, help me to listen and to show love.”

I silently prayed.

A tall middle-aged man approached us and introduced himself as Daniel and we were asked to follow him. We stood and began the long walk through many locked doors, each time Daniel swiping his card to gain entry. Five, six locked doors later we were pointed to a door way to a small conference room. This last hallway we walked through it was apparent these were the patient’s rooms, two or three beds in each room,

White sheets

White blankets

White walls.

I quickly scoured the rooms for some semblance of my son’s existence there. As we entered the conference room, Daniel said, “we just came through your son’s unit.” My mother’s heart already knew it to be so.

I asked “will he be joining us?”

"Eventually", Daniel said.

He sat there with a huge file folder with my son’s picture on it, thick with all kinds of documents. Had it been passed from Rehab to Rehab or was this just from the last three weeks, I wondered but never asked. He began by asking us “tell me your story”

I didn’t even know where to begin, what actually constitutes the beginning? We rambled for what seemed like an eternity re-living the past 11 years, moving from heart ache to heart ache. Loss upon loss, rehab story after rehab story till now. To the current line we have drawn in the concrete that he could not come home again. Our marriage was being strained; our little boy needed to stay safe and didn’t need to see his big brother live like this anymore.

A hard solid line.

No longer is one drawn in sand that can get blown away by manipulation or fear but one that is solidly formed.

"So where does he go from here? What are his choices? Are there choices?"

Daniel told us our son had chosen to go to a Sober House in the town just next to us. He chose this over a Half Way house. The Half way house comes with more rules, but with more helps. The sober living is less structured and with very few helps and with a price tag. One my son could not afford completely. Daniel also felt there was more of a risk for failure in a sober house because of the freedom attached to it.

Yes we would try to talk him into the Half Way house we told Daniel; obviously it would be the better choice.

A few minutes later my son walked in the room, after hugs and the “its so good to see you” the hard stuff began…

Daniel with my sons permission began to tell us about the hard work he had done, that most of the men could never get the place he had, he had began the emotional piece of his recovery. That he felt he found that place in his life where it all spiraled out of control and drugs were the only answer to cover the pain. As my son through tears uttered the words of shame and deep wounding tears filled my eyes.

I knew. I knew this would be the place.

My heart hurt deeply for him as he choked back the pain.

“let it out baby, let it out, It’s ok, I’m ok, your loved, so loved, to hell with who your father is or isn’t’, you are my son! Rick has longed to be your father, let him, let him in”.

Words of “Rick please forgive me for never letting you in” tumbled out of his mouth as he sobbed. The awful deep pain, spilled out, finally released.

In those awkward quiet moments I prayed in my spirit

“heal my son, Lord I lift him up to you; heal my son” .

The meeting ended, his choice stayed with the sober house, which would begin two days later. He was transported to the sober house calling me that he had arrived and would I bring him some supplies.

“Of course, I’ll stop to get you some things and be there after work”

30 days have passed, he’s still sober, he asked to get moved to a different sober house as there was drug activity in the house and he wanted nothing to do with it. The new house has more structure, more rules.

The meeting gave my heart hope, that he may just make it. That God will indeed heal my son, and his life will be a testimony that God can use to show His glory and His redemptive power.

"Oh Lord let be so."