Her toddler was not sleeping at night and this mom was struggling. Allison (not her real name) was exhausted, overwhelmed, and felt defeated. Nothing unusual for a typical mom, but for one already feeling insecure about her parenting skills and having lost custody of another child because of her personal choices, this took a normal frustration to a whole new level. She felt like a parenting failure and this aggravation only confirmed her convictions.
Our team discussed a few options to help Allison’s little boy sleep and I handed her a bottle of lavender spray I had on my desk that had been given to me as a gift. “Here. See if this will also help.”
I was a little disappointed by her reaction, which was not in proportion to the sacrifice I had just made. I really liked the lavender spray and enjoyed using it in my office, but she seemed noticeably indifferent and even a little hesitant to take it.
Little did I know, this mom had been hiding an ugly secret. She was a severe alcoholic and knew she would be at risk of drinking the lavender spray, simply for the tiny bit of alcohol in the bottle. We were also unaware she had been drinking hand sanitizer to get a buzz. Yes, hand sanitizer. We typically don’t keep liquid sanitizer around for that very reason, but she had found some left over from a recent event and had sneaked a few bottles back from trips off campus. (Apparently the burning sensation going down the throat is a close substitute for the real thing, and the numbing it provides is worth the disgusting taste.)
When these indiscretions were finally revealed, they explained a lot. For months we had been struggling with this mom to make progress and despite all our efforts, we still felt we were working harder at her recovery than she was. Truth was, we were.
After multiple chances, Allison left us with few options. It was frustrating because we all saw her potential and we adored her little boy, but no matter how much we tried, she was determined to remain stuck right where she was. We just continued circling the same tree.
Our staff had a lengthy meeting and finally made the painful decision to make room for someone more desperate for an opportunity. After all, we had a responsibility to honor the journeys of all the women who were putting 100% into their own recovery. It was imperative that we held others to the same standard. But - it did not mean we had to like it. We decided to meet with Allison the following morning to let her know our decision and we all went home with heavy hearts.
The next morning, I was hurriedly walking through my bedroom about to leave for work, when a scene much like a movie unexpectedly started playing in my head. In vivid color and great detail, I saw a family of three facing a casket that held the body of a blond headed woman. Their backs were to me and blocked the woman's face. Where did that come from? Her husband looked to be in his early forties, he was tall and thin with neatly cut dark hair. He was comforting their teenage daughter whose head was tucked under his arm as she wept. To the left of the girl was her brother who seemed to be about ten years old. He stood like a soldier, very stoic, staring at his mother in the casket with his arms by his side, hands clinched into white knuckled fists.
The grief was overwhelming and I could feel this family's emotions as if they were my own. Even when I tried to shift my thoughts to something else, I couldn't. The movie in my head continued to play as the father attempted to comfort his two children while he was clearly devastated by his own loss.
I was still puzzled by this scene when God spoke to my heart, “If you discharge Allison today, this mother will be killed by a drunk driver." Wow.
All the way to work I pictured this family in my mind. It was so detailed, I was convinced I would recognize them if I saw them on the streets, and I suspected they lived in a town about an hour away where Allison would be returning if she left our campus. It was tempting to find them just to validate the powerful images.
As I walked into my office, our staff members were already preparing for our dreadful meeting with Allison. I said, “Can we call a family meeting instead with all our residents and staff?”
The atmosphere was tense because Allison's peers suspected she was leaving for all the obvious reasons, but they were puzzled by the group meeting since this was something we would typically handle in private. They were also a little weary from trying to help her in their own ways. Allison was tearful and even trembling. She knew she had pushed her limits and was dreading the bad news.
“I wanted to meet with everyone instead of meeting with Allison privately, because I feel the entire community needs to know what has happened. As you know, we have struggled with Allison for months and she refuses to make any progress. We keep landing right back where we started. I know you are frustrated with her, too, for not being more serious about her recovery when she has so much at stake.” Everyone nodded.
Allison continued to cry and tremble. I was anxious to put her out of her misery.
“But Allison is not leaving today and I want you all to know why, because she ordinarily would be, considering the circumstances.” Allison nearly collapsed on the sofa and was a bundle of tears and disbelief before I could even explain the reason. She took a noticeable deep breath.
I continued by telling our residents and staff what had happened earlier that morning and that I was going to listen to God and not discharge Allison that day. I couldn’t make any promises if Allison continued to be uncooperative, but for today, she was not leaving. There were tears everywhere I looked. No one could believe the inevitable had shifted so dramatically.
Later that day, Allison came into my office. I expected her to express how grateful she was for another chance, but she also shared a story that clearly had a profound impact on her.
With tears streaming down her face, she said, “Miss Susan, last night I prayed my heart out that God would speak to you somehow and convince you to give me another chance. So, when you told your story this morning, I couldn’t believe it. God heard me! I am so thankful!” She wept tears of true gratitude and disbelief.
Well, I am happy to report this event has been a game changer. Allison is a completely different person. She is genuinely happy with a smile that never ends. She is digging into her issues with our counselor, instead of holding back and refusing to talk about her true feelings. She has faced the shame she carried about her secret relapses and has confessed all the embarrassing details to her peers. She has let go of constantly comparing herself to others, which has always been such a powerful stumbling block. She is happy to do her chores rather than grumbling behind our backs and in many ways she is becoming an effective leader. She is enjoying being a mother in a way she has never known before now, and her relationship with her precious child has visibly grown.
One day recently I asked Allison if she was still tempted to drink hand sanitizer. She immediately said, "No, but I haven't really been around it either."
Then she paused. "Well, I guess I have been around it at the store...and the doctor's office..." A huge smile spread across her face as she realized she no longer looked for it, and was no longer tempted by it. In fact, she seems to finally be free from that terrible temptation. Just look at that!
But there's more. From what Allison tells me, her toddler is sleeping much better, which comes as no surprise. Looks like he finally has the mama he was trying to find all along - and we're pretty happy to have found her, too.
Lord, thank you for guiding our steps even when they take us in a different direction to unexpected places. You always know the path that is best. Amen
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