Thursday, August 25, 2011

A time to be still and know ...


Those of you following Cody's Law probably wondered why I suddenly went silent after the ceremonial bill signing with Governor Fallin in June. Well, I needed a break. The building emotions from the ups and downs of this process that has consumed the last six and a half years of my life have been more than I can name and I needed to step back for rest. I needed to be still for awhile and let God restore my soul.

The bill signing was as Senator Newberry put it, “A great day for Oklahoma.” It was pure elation, a feeling of great happiness and excitement. It was a celebration, and yet the ache was still present strangely intertwined with the joy. A mother never escapes the empty space in her heart a child’s death leaves behind no matter what good may come, or how much time passes.  I could see the same thing in Shari Mounce, Kaitlyn’s mom, when I looked into her eyes.  The pain is real and always present just below the surface. While I am filled with joy and a sense of satisfaction in knowing Cody’s Law is finally a statewide statute that will save teen’s lives and help protect other families from the addiction, destruction, and devastation that is enabled through social host homes; my son is still gone from this life on earth and I am left with an anxious sense of not knowing what to do, so I look to God and He calms my racing thoughts and emotions.

I was humbled and filled with gratitude to see all the prevention professionals, advocates, legislators, friends, parents and students at the bill signing who were supporting and working on this issue with me, even though for many, it was the first time we met face to face. I know many of you were working to address the issue of social hosting long before my son died, and before I personally experienced the tragic result one social host household could create. Words cannot express the respect, honor or thanks that you deserve, but from my heart I thank you for who you are, what you’ve chosen to stand for, and what you are doing for others through your life.

I am always surprised when people thank me and tell me that I am strong. I think to myself, they have no idea. When people say things like, “I don’t know how you do this.” or “I could never do what you’re doing.” I know it’s not me. In my own strength I could never do any of this. All glory, honor and praise belongs to my God who gives me the strength, courage and confidence to do what is needed when my flesh would rather fall apart and wallow the rest of my days in grief. God sees the before and after of every single time I stand before a group of people to tell my son’s story.  He knows the doubt, the fear, and He holds every tear I’ve ever cried when it is all over. As the words to an old Twyla Paris song say, “They don’t know that I go running home when I fall down. They don’t know who picks me up when no one is around. I drop my sword and look up for a smile, because deep inside this armor the warrior is a child.”

There was a time in my life when I thought I would not go on living if anything happened to one of my children. I believed I wouldn’t be able to live through it. I would simply stop breathing and my heart would stop beating ... but that did not happen. No matter how much I wanted to stop living to escape the pain, I kept waking up each day. Some of you, unfortunately, know what I'm talking about, and you also realize that it is in living through the pain of this life --when everything is totally and completely without a shadow of doubt beyond your control-- that you learn you must stop trying to understand everything because you can’t. Instead you either give in to the bitterness completely, or you use the faith you’ve been given and trust God. I choose to trust God.

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart; and lean not to your own understanding.” Proverbs 3:5

Again, thanks to each and every one of you who are warriors in this mission to save kid's lives. God bless you.