I crawled into bed after another very long day. Tom was out of town and all three of the kids were home. Dallas had just turned 19, Drew was almost 17, and Giana was nearly 16.
We’d made it through Thanksgiving, but Christmas and New Year’s Day were just around the corner. I wanted only to get through the holidays with little drama.
Every day brought a new and terrible revelation. We knew Dallas was on drugs and we suspected Giana was using as well. When you’re dealing with drug addicted kids (and young adults) you have to be very careful.
Even though we believed they were using drugs, we couldn’t make accusations without real facts to back up what we knew in our hearts. You see if the drug addict thinks he or she is about to be found out, they will bury the secrets even deeper and tell better lies.
The addict’s deceitfulness must be challenged with real information that can supported with hard facts. Otherwise they will retreat further and could be lost forever.
Tom and I couldn’t relax for a moment. We had to keep our eyes and ears open all the time. I covertly listened in on one end of suspicious phone conversations, intercepted mail, sifted through pockets, had nonchalant conversations with chatty school friends, and frequently searched bedrooms and backpacks.
It was around midnight. The crisp pine scent from the large Christmas tree in the front room filled the house. Chilly air wafted in through my open bedroom window. I could smell smoke from the smoldering fireplaces in the neighborhood. I was just starting to dose off when something woke me.
I heard a clanging and clattering in the hallway.
I got out of bed, opened my bedroom door, and looked into the long narrow walkway leading to the front room. I saw a thick black smoke-like substance stretching the length of the hall and hugging the ceiling.
The thing seemed to actually have arms that were reaching over the top of each of the three closed doors and was slithering through the tiny cracks between the door and its frame. It wasn’t trying to get into my room—just the rooms of my children.
I’ve looked into the eyes of evil before, and even then I felt peace and calm. This was no different.
I shut the door to my bedroom and crawled back into bed. I pulled the covers up around my neck and I prayed.
“Dear God, what is that?”
I heard a voice. “It’s the spirit of sexual promiscuity, and it wants your children.”
I prayed more.
Less than a month later Dallas left and would essentially be homeless for months. He and his sister nearly died from their addictions.
God gave me peace in the midst of the storm and in the face of evil. He gave me wisdom so I would know how to pray for my kids.