Where do I begin with this one? I was sitting at my computer with my grandchildren in the living room watching TV. I heard my son come in and ask, “Where is Mama? Where is Grandma?” I told him I was in the office. He came in and said, “Can I have a hug?” in a whispery tone that was hard to understand. I looked up and saw my son with tears streaming down his face as he was reaching for me. I stood up and held him as he cried, telling me he didn’t know if he could take any more. As a mother, my instinct was to hold on and not let go ~ and we didn’t for a brief while. We then stepped out onto the back porch and talked. His heart was breaking due to his separation and upcoming divorce. There is no greater pain than to see your child in pain, no matter how old they are, and yet there’s nothing you can do or say that will make it better.
My son is an Iraq Veteran and I’m proud of him. I am blessed and grateful that he did come home, but he didn’t come home the same. The issues he had from what he had gone through have taken his life and turned it upside down. He used to be real outgoing and love crowds, whereas now he can’t be in a large crowd without an anxiety attack. As his marriage was falling apart, he finally went for some counseling and was diagnosed with PTSD, and, praise God, they gave him some medication that allows him to stay calmer.
When he came to me the other day, it took every ounce of strength I had to hold it together until after he left. I truly broke down myself and thought back to when I had reached that breaking point.
On September 7, 2008, I had a seizure and fell down the stairs, resulting in a compound and burst fracture of L5. After the results of an MRI showed that I couldn’t have back surgery because it was too dangerous, I left a message for Rick Curren, III. I had worked for him in the medical field and knew his knowledge was vast and trusted his advice. What this meant was that I would be off of work for 2 months at least. I remember crying and telling Rick that I was scared of losing my house. It was his response that made the impact. Not only did Rick remind me it was just a house and this was my health but the vital part was reciting the 23rd Psalm and going over the meaning of every line in it. I then felt a sense of peace.
About five years earlier, my mother’s pastor told us that if you’re ever scared, recite the 23rd Psalm 5 times a day. I went home that night and realized I couldn’t remember it after all these years. I took out my Bible and started reading it out loud. The first time was to remind myself of the words. I made it through the second time, but about halfway through the third time, I broke down crying, turning to Jesus the way my son turned to me. I must add, I have never been the same since, for it was at that very moment that I felt His presence and went from being just a believer to having a relationship with Him.
You see, even though my son made it home, he still fights battles every day ~ we all do. Whether as a veteran, a survivor of rape and/or abuse, or someone facing addiction, the list goes on and on. We all are casualties of some kind of war or another. When my son came to me for comfort after all of these years, it gave me a glimpse into how Jesus felt when I came home to Him that night.
No matter what war you are facing ~ Jesus is waiting to give you His sense of peace ~ all you have to do is ask.
This is DeVaughn ~ bringing it home.
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