Some days I feel as though my heart will shatter into pieces. I worry about my son every single day. I constantly push the worry to the back of my mind, because it is too overwhelming to face it full on. On cold nights, I worry if he is able to find a warm place to sleep. On rainy nights, I worry if he is able to find a dry place to sleep. I worry daily if he is hungry, or lonely. Where is he sleeping? What is he doing? Is he safe? Is he alive? It's becoming increasingly more difficult to carry this burden. Yet I have to, because a mother never stops worrying about her child. A mother never stops loving her child. I've walked this path of despair for years now - at least 12 or more. That is far too long for someone to be homeless and lost to himself. Far too long for a mother to grieve over her child. I'm tired. What will it take for him to finally get better? How much longer can I do this Lord?
