Tonight....
Getting comfort from where ever I can.
This morning my son woke me with a phone call.
He was crying that he wanted to stop Heroin.
I offered to take him to detox if he could come to the shopping center on a bus.
Ok..He was grateful...I told him I loved him.
He never showed up.
He is not ready.
The lowly potholder becomes a gift of love, transferring some of the pain into a sort of art.
The art of coming to peace that we are in control of nothing.
Nothing but the joy of a potholder.
My son is in God's hands.
This morning my son woke me with a phone call.
He was crying that he wanted to stop Heroin.
I offered to take him to detox if he could come to the shopping center on a bus.
Ok..He was grateful...I told him I loved him.
He never showed up.
He is not ready.
The lowly potholder becomes a gift of love, transferring some of the pain into a sort of art.
The art of coming to peace that we are in control of nothing.
Nothing but the joy of a potholder.
My son is in God's hands.
From Cathy Perlmutter @ Gefilte Quilts comes....Leonard Cohen and quilts
A very fun and clever post. Thank you Cathy!
2 comments:
I'm still hoping for your son. Your potholders have a magic way about them, they calm you and make others smile.
I'm also hoping for the best for your son. Sounds like he is ready to be ready.
Warms my soul that you make for others when you feel so hopeless.
{big hug}
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