And on the seventh day . . . .

As we sat in the waiting area tonight, waiting for family counseling, I commented to Ethan that it was our one week anniversary. He's been home a week today.

The difference between the Ethan who came home from a year in the rehab program at the detention center, and the Ethan who came home from the relapse program, is astonishing!! He made more progress in those additional four months than he has in four years. This is a blessing. It's been a quiet, peaceful, enjoyable week.

So, on the seventh day, . . . .  I rest.

I rest in my faith, and my hope, and my belief that Ethan will continue to move forward. Will it always be smooth? Certainly not. Will there be setbacks? Definitely. Can we weather them? I believe we can, and I have faith that we will. I hope for the best for his future, but I have faith that he will attempt to walk the road. I feel better about my son's future today, than I have in years. Being able to say that means a great deal. Each day is a struggle, but I'll take each of his days one day at a time.

Throughout the ordeals of the past four years, Asa has grown from a 9 year old frightened child, into a 13 year old much notably more confident young man. His patience and understanding has been a golden touch to everything. He is good. He is strong. He is happy. And, he has learned!!

Throughout the ordeals of the past four years, and several before that, I have learned an amazing amount about myself. For many years, it seemed like life was just going to be one big crisis after another. A never ending cycle. For the last week, that cycle has ceased. I'm grateful. I see the light at the end of the tunnel for each of us,  . . . . yes, even for myself. It's getting brighter. Keep coming!!

So, on the seventh day, I rest.
I rest in my faith, in my many blessings, in the peace of my home, in the smiles of my boys, in the lounging of my cat, in the knowledge that we are all survivors, in the blanket of love that has held me together, and in seeing a brighter day.

Rest.