Today has been another one of those dreaded days. A day when you feel like all hell has broken loose inside you. I hate to unwind on those I love so dearly, but sometimes that is the only way to correct a problem that can’t be solved any other way. My brother, Dale, was a person of strong anger if anyone tried to tell him what to do, but he had a loving heart when he got his way. We all learned to let him have his way even when we knew he was headed for trouble. I stood over his bed when he was dying and tried to hide the tears from him. He saw them once and asked, “what’s going on?“ I loved this brother even though he was rude and unbearable at times. I don’t recall ever showing anger toward him. He passed away at 65 from alcohol addiction. I have a son whom I have to wonder if some of the traits of my brother didn’t show up in him. My son is not an alcoholic, but he has some bad anger and rudeness about him like my brother had.
I recently wrote a blog called, “Father Abraham’s Knife.” Most people know the story how Abraham took his only beloved son upon a mounting and laid him on a rock then raised a sharp knife to kill him as a sacrifice for God. God saw the sincerity of Abraham’s love to Him and stopped the arm of Abraham before the knife reached his son. What manner of love could this possible be? Today we would think only an insane person would do that. I used this true story to illustrate my love for a son who was dying for lack of self-discipline. I was not offering him for a sacrifice, neither was I literally planning to take his life, but I did offer to let him go if nothing else could be done for him. I had exhausted all the strength I had trying to deal with a son who seemed dead set on rushing to the grave. He had turned away the request of three doctors, and several nurses who had advised him what he needed to do after open heart surgery. He had refused to allow anyone to stay with him and help him to recuperate. After four days in the hospital with almost force from the doctor, he was ready to go home and be alone. I, being his mother, begged and finally got him to let me take him food and plead for him to take his medicine. He didn’t want to eat or take his medicine either. My patience lasted a few days then I mentally told myself I was going to claim the same kind of nerve Abraham had. This thought came to me after I had tried every means possible to get my son into some kind of facility where he could be forced to take his medicine and be watched so as not to fall. It was not possible, I was told. I gave my son to God after I told him I was through trying to help him. I was in direct touch with God, and I knew He was going to take over. If God stopped the knife from falling I would be happy, but if he didn’t I was going to be happy also. It was a hard decision to make, but It was the only thing left to do. I went to bed thinking I may not see my son alive in the morning, and I did greave. Surprisingly I sleep sound all through the night. I got a call the next morning from a son who sounded completely different than before. I felt sure God had healed his mind and everything would be OK. I was able to deal with him a lot better, but the same old problem was still there. Today 15 days after surgery I was overtaken by anger to him. I had not one ounce of patience left. I could see it was a hopeless case. I told him if he died tonight it would be better to get him out of his misery, and everyone else’s too. I am at home now basically going through the same thing I went through before. When we give it all to God we have to withdraw from all else. I don’t know if this will be sink or swim for my son or not, but I know it will be one or the other. “The Lord is my Sheppard I shall not want.”
God Bless
Myrtle Jean Sharp
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