Over the last five years I have embarked upon a special journey. Not through Spain or the Virgin Islands but through the valley of brokenness, sweat, and tears. Brokenness in the relationship, sweat in trying to pick up the pieces and start all over again, and tears from the many nights of crying myself to sleep and wondering where did it all go wrong.
I have learned over the last two years that nothing in life is for certain. You may be believing that you have it all going on but little do you know what is brewing beneath the surface. This is how I look at the situation after being separated now for two whole years. I was married with four sons who are now all grown. Two are still at home with me. One has disabilities and the other one is yet trying to find himself.
I really don’t know where to begin so I will say about 2005 when I began to see changes in my sons occurring around the house. I would find notes written “No Fear.” “No Fear of Life, No Fear of Death.” Then they would sneak out during the night and be gone for days. I would walk the floors at night praying and crying, wondering where they would be. On several occasions the police would bring them home. All they would do was look at me with this smirk grin on their faces. I later would learn they would be out drinking and staying out at friends’ home without telling anyone.
I can recall one of those events when I went to wake them up for school and one of them had slipped out during the night and left this note.”Dear Verdell and Mary . . . I hate you people.” Boy did my eyes fill up with tears and my heart hit the floor. At that moment I felt as though I had just been stabbed through my heart. I cried and cried. The other sons tried to console me and let me know I was a good mother and that it was only the drugs that were speaking out through my sons head. I cried for days, walking the floor, and it appeared to me that their father had buried his head in the sand like an ostrich. I was so confused I didn’t know what to do. It was on this quest for answers that the “Spirit of the Lord said -Write”. I was so confused; I didn’t know what to write.
All of a sudden it was like an audio voice speaking into my ear, it said “Whose Voice Do You Hear?” I picked up my pen and began writing . . .
Whose Voice Do You Hear
There are so many voices in the land today-
Whose voice do you hear?
The voices of peers are ringing out-Come with us- We have no fear.
No fear of life-No fear of death-This is what they say.
I’ve read it in the messages-left laying around each day.
Come go with us-Come go with us- Their voices get louder every day.
I hear the cry in music. I hear the cry in drugs.
I hear the cry in alcohol-and all in the phone.
The Internet is calling. The porno loud and clear-
The video games their playing-These are the voices that they hear.
The Streets are calling out-Come go with us my son-
We have so much to offer you-You need to get away from home.
So off he runs from day to day-No one knows where my son lay.
Is he alive or is he dead-Is what’s going on in a mother’s head.
Who can hear the voice of a mother? Who can know a mother’s heart?
Can you hear your mother crying? Because you’ve broken her heart?
