At every junction of my life, at every crossroad of heaven and hell, when it feels like I just can't face another obstacle, there are miraculous little reminders that I am not alone. Just shortly after my son's removal from the home and placement in a state facility, I received a phone call from a dear old friend whom I had always referred to as "big brother". I hadn't heard from him in years, and yet I knew right away the reason for his call. Years before, when I had been in a desperate situation, he and another friend had come to get me and, unknown to them, had probably saved my life. I know that even if he hadn't called because he knew what had occurred, something had spurred his contact, and that "something" was most likely a little nudge from God himself. Thank you for that.
Since then, three other friends and soul mates have come forward miraculously and at just the right time. In the past year, two men who were like second and third fathers to me have resurfaced and reconnected with me via Facebook, and Josh has gone to work with another past friend whom I have known for over 15 years. Best of all, I managed to find my long-lost BFF whom I had met in college and had contributed to some of the most memorable and humorous times in my life. He made me laugh, he sat patiently while I cried, and through it all he hid the fact that he was in the midst of his own hellish battles.
Although I'm sure that our trials and tribulations over the past two years aren't necessarily the reason for the resurfacing of old and valuable friendships, I feel that their reappearances have doubled, tripled, even quadrupled my son's chances of healing.
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