It was the beginning of the emptying of the nest. The next one to leave was our third child - in 1970 - not that it was his time or his turn. He was 16 and rebelled by running away from home. It served as a catalyst to the dissolution of the family because when he returned, my husband and I couldn't agree how to deal with him. Hubby was more like a benevolent Grandfather, and I was more like a shrew. Our son was incorrigible. I was afraid of him, especially after he threatened me. I had insisted that he not leave the house one day and told him if he disobeyed I would report him to the police as a runaway. He warned me not to call the police, and threatened bodily harm if I did. He walked out of the house (on his way to his pot-head drinking buddies)
I immediately went to the phone and reported him. Not only that, but I was able to tell them where to find him. I didn't have the address but I knew the street and the police were aware of the place - they had been keeping an eye on that house.
Within an hour, the police called to tell us that our son was in Juvenile Hall. My husband's response was to go and bail him out. My reaction was to get him into a Foster Home. My husband refused to do that, so my ultimatum was for him to make a choice between his son and his wife. He chose his son. They both moved out to an apartment and I filed for divorce after a trial separation period. As soon as our 2nd child turned 18, she joined her Dad and brother in their apartment. I was clearly perceived as the bad guy here.
I have written the bare cold facts. but you surely realize this was a traumatic and emotional time of heartache for the entire family. I have chosen to relate only the facts and not attempt to slant in my favor or tug at your heartstrings. Fortunately as the story unfolds, you will see God's Grace and mercy at work in our messed up lives.
