It's a rainy night in Cedar City, but we fully expect it to turn to snow later tonight and then on into tomorrow when we leave to return to Boulder. We'll see what that little KIA we rented will act like in the snow.
We have a home here,larger and more comfortable than our Colorado one, more space--more books, more things.
We don't get here as often as we'd like--the distance is too great for a quick weekiend trip. But, being in great need of respite and a change of scene, and having some clear space in the week, we left on Thurs--so have had two full days, two half days--and some good coffee and dinner times with Julie and Danielle, Andrew and Olivia.
We come here ragged, sad, worn out, frustrated, angry, defeated and hopeful. Since mid-December, we have dealt with our son's incarceration, a sort of conclusion to a really terrible year for him, beginning last year at this time when he was arrested for drugs, assigned to Drug Court, and began a schedule designed to lift him out of whatever went so wrong and get him back on track. But for some reason, that was only the beginning--4 more incidents in 2009, the last one resulting in the lockup. We would not post bond. He was furious, begging, apologetic, resolved to change his life after having time to think, and on. We stood firm. Thinking he was getting out of one jail two weeks ago, he was surprised that there was a bench warrant out for him in another country, so he was merely transferred from one facility to another. But is out now until he returns in 2 weeks for a revocation of probation hearing, which means we'll be there, too.
What are the hopes for a 37-year-old man to turn his life around? To say that he does not want to live this way any more? They are dim, but they are not extinguished. His father, who raised him from the time he was a small boy, has come to learn the hard way the difference between enabling and helping out. But that's a very complex issue--and still absolves the son for his own responsibility for his actions, in a way. The problems with and of this son have been the greatest threat and challenge to our almost 20-year marriage. But now I see his broken-hearted father--how he has aged over these confrontations, the son demanding, pleading, begging for money to get out. the firm "no." Watching him walk into the courtroom, shackled and in handcuffs, having lost the false bravado with which he usually faces the world.
We have not heard from him since he got out. Nary a phone call.
Tomorrow we go to our church here, see old friends, celebrate, and then head back.
I am dancing still--having added "Latin Blaze" to my NIA classes and soon to resume jazz. I wonder how, if I could introduce liturgical dance into St. Aidan's? Our Taize healing service in Jan. was lovely. Prayer stations carefully draped in rich blues, reds, yellows; icons and pillows; candles; and a healing litany read while people moved from one prayer station to the next. Beautiful Taize music. We need to help people understand that healing is in the Episcopal tradition--to help them to seek out a healing service like this one.
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