About Us

My son Sam has been home for just over a year now, and he is thriving--working at Home Depot, where he loves it, loves his coworkers and the connections. He has been promoted twice. I don't think he's missed work once.

His siblings are past the "honeymoon" stage of being ecstatic over their brother's return. They expect him to always make wise decisions, and he doesn't. His decision-making skills are what landed him in jail---well, that and a corrupt legal system. But they still love him and they are trying. He is trying. 

He spends time with the family and discontinued all previous friendships...except one. That one could get him in trouble. 

I live with an awareness that my world can plunge into a unique state of pain and preoccupation with a phone call. 

I want to leave this house, where there are so many painful memories.

I want to leave this state, this country if I could do so and have my children and grandchild with me. We don't have justice. We have a parody of it that makes people think they are mostly safe, but that victimizes young men, especially mentally ill young men, especially young men of color. 

"Samuel" means asked and received of God, and I feel like all my pleading on his behalf accomplished something. Brought him home, reminded him of his worth so that he did not repeat the mistakes that landed him behind bars. 

Sam told him that it was me, my constant efforts that prevented him from being "institutionalized." I would encourage you to do your level best to support your son or daughter. 

The greatest pain was feeling helpless, but I was not. I was able to write, to visit, to talk with him on the phone. I sent articles to keep his mind busy, encouraged him to join/attend any group (substance abuse treatment group, church) that he could to keep his mind and his social skills working. I encouraged him to be courteous and friendly to the best of his ability, but to remember that his real relationships were outside. 

I was afraid when he came home, afraid for his safety. At one point when he was getting in trouble but not living at home, we had cars parking across the street and watching our house--I was a little afraid for our safety, too. Mostly I worried because he had, against the odds, gotten healthier in jail and I was afraid he would lose all of that. 

I was afraid.

I am still afraid, but I am trying not to be. I am trying to be grateful. 

I've loved my son since I saw his heartbeat on the ultrasound monitor. I loved him no matter where he was, and that continues to be true.