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Topic: WOUND (11/26/20)
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TITLE: A Time of Darkness | Previous Challenge Entry
By Gina Fifo
11/30/20 -
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In October of 2015, I lost my grandson to drug addiction. It was by far the most painful event of my life. Not only did I lose my grandson, Tyler, but I lost a piece of my daughter as well. He was her only child; he was her life. To lose him broke my heart. To see her suffer shattered it. That it happened at all shook my faith to the core.
When Tyler was 18 he went to a doctor for anxiety and was prescribed Xanax. His mother had fought against his desire to treat his anxiety with medication throughout high school. Instead, she encouraged him to learn to cope – the two of them started a dog rescue, worked with shelter animals, fed the homeless, and reached out to those in need every time they had the opportunity. Tyler went to church, was saved and baptized. He was surrounded by a close-knit family who loved him. We knew when he developed a problem with drugs. We did not, however, know the pain he secretly carried until it was too late.
Tyler was the victim of sexual abuse at a very young age. His mother did not learn of it until just before he died at the age of 20. Fear and shame kept him silent because it was an older relative who carried out the abuse and he not only threatened him but led his young mind to believe that what happened to him changed his sexual orientation forever.
The Xanax helped his anxiety, but someone he knew encouraged him to "double up". One thing led to another. When his mother found out he was addicted, she put him in rehab. They released him after a few days, saying his problem wasn’t that bad. In rehab, Tyler made new friends. Hanging with them afterward, he began to spiral out of control.
I prayed for my grandson every day from the moment he was born. When I found out he had a drug problem, I prayed for God to heal him and I prayed morning, noon and night for God to put his angels around him and protect him. I trusted and believed in the power of prayer . . . right up until that devastating phone call that shattered our world.
Satan took advantage of my grief; doubts about my beliefs began to niggle at me and I found my faith not just shaken, but crumbling. I was heartbroken at my grandson’s death and confused as to why God had allowed it. Tyler had told me that he was fighting his desire to get high and praying for God‘s help. His prayers too had been in vain. Why, why, why? Day in and day out I asked God “Why?” Bible verses no longer held water. My trust in God disintegrated. I couldn’t even find the words to pray.
The “why” of it all tortured me day and night. And yet, I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that Tyler was at peace in the arms of Jesus. (That’s another story, but suffice it to say that my grandmother came to me after she passed away many years ago and assured me that there was a heaven and she was there.) I knew Tyler, as a beloved child of God, had to be there, too.
I am ashamed to admit that I had fallen prey to Satan. It took me many months to find my way out of the darkness and back into the light; but I did find my way back.
When we hurt, God understands our pain. He wants us to turn to him, but Satan is there when we are vulnerable with pain and heartache. When our human nature falls to sin Jesus weeps; but his love is steadfast. When we turn our back to him, he doesn’t abandon us. He waits patiently for us to call on him, to reach our hand to him; and when we do, Jesus reaches down and lifts us into his loving embrace. Our spirit is renewed by his mercy. . . and his grace.
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Thank you for this powerful story. My heart breaks with your pain. It rejoices that you found your way back.