If drug addiction hasn’t affected you or someone in your family, then you probably know someone that it has. A long-time family friend, Barbara Bice, has written ‘Just Right’ …her story of how drug addiction affected their family and the road to recovery. A MUST READ!! You can read the first chapter here: http://justrightbook.com/meet-the-author-barbara-bice and you can order online: http://justrightbook.com/shop-donate-just-right-book-the-shed
CHAPTER ONE: THE ROAD
I rolled over in bed and laid my head on his pillow. Although I was exhausted, sleep would not come. I looked at the clock for the hundredth time that night. Midnight. One o’clock. One-twenty. Two-fifteen. I prayed, I cried, and I prayed some more. “Please God, don’t let him be doing it again.”
I got out of bed and walked over to the bedroom doors that led to a large deck. “This was supposed to be our dream home,” I thought to myself. It sat almost in the middle of fifteen acres. As I looked out into the night, the moon was so full and so bright. I felt I could see every tree, every rise and slope of the land . . . and every shadow. I thanked God for the bright moon because I knew I would be going out into the night alone again. I reluctantly got dressed and went upstairs where our sons were sleeping.
I hated myself for what I was about to do, but what other choice did I have? I did not want to wake my son, but suppose one of the boys woke up and needed me? Suppose the house caught on fire after I left? I had to tell someone I was leaving. I knelt down beside his bed, said a silent prayer, and then, for what seemed like the millionth time, I gently shook our middle son and whispered to him, “I’ll be back soon.” My heart broke because I knew he knew what that meant. For so long I tried to hide the truth from our sons to protect them, to cover it up; but by this time, he knew something was wrong. All three sons knew something was terribly wrong. Yet, I still wanted so badly to spare them the heartache I was feeling . . . that gut-wrenching raw fear I felt every time he did not come home.
I got into my car and headed down the long winding driveway and onto the narrow dirt road that led to the main paved road. As I turned onto the dirt road, I wondered to myself, “Will I find him this time? Where will he be this time? What lies will he tell me this time?” Then, almost instantly, I was overcome with anger at myself that I would even stoop so low as to go looking for him again. Hadn’t I had enough already? Then, as I rounded a small curve in the road, I saw headlights. I knew the lights were his. I stopped my car and waited. As he drove closer, I turned off the engine and headlights, got out of the car, and stood in the middle of the dusty dirt road.
I watched as he brought his truck to a stop some distance in front of my car. (Read More Here)