I still mother them….

If you know me, you know that one week a month I spend an hour speaking at . And no matter what is happening in my life, it is one of the most important hours of my month.

Today was my first day back with the day group in over a month and honestly… pulling into that parking lot, I was nervous.

But the second I walked in and people started saying “we missed you” and “I’m glad you’re back,” I felt it. That reminder that sometimes people have no idea how much their words matter.

Today we talked about addiction. The real kind. Not the version people judge from the outside.

I talked about being the mom who once said things like:
“If you loved me enough, you’d quit.”
“If you loved yourself enough, you’d quit.”
“It’s a choice. Just stop.”

I said those things before I understood addiction was a disease. A cunning disease that reaches into people’s souls and convinces them they can control something that is actively destroying them.

We talked about relapse. We talked about grief. We talked about parents saying the wrong things out of fear, not lack of love. We talked about boundaries and how this year I stopped chasing people and started pouring into the people who pour into me.

And then we talked about Vincent.

His Into Light portrait hangs at Redemption. The picture with his backwards hat and white undershirt.

Years ago he sent me that picture while he was living in Florida and wrote:
“I wore this especially for you.”

I remember telling him it was a good thing he wasn’t home because I would have sent him right to his room because in my opinion an undershirt belonged UNDER a shirt. Not as the shirt.

We laughed about it then.

Years later when I had to pick a picture for his Into Light portrait, that was the one I chose.

Not because it was polished.
Not because it was perfect.
Because it was HIM.

My daughter hated that picture. She never understood why I picked it and honestly we argued about it enough that it never hung in my house.

But somehow the universe made sure it hung exactly where it was supposed to.

At Redemption.

And every time I see doing videos there, I see Vincent’s sketch peeking over his shoulder and it makes me smile every single time.

Today one young man told me he graduated a year before my daughter and remembered her because “she was always kind.”

That hit me hard in the best possible way.

And then another young man who had spent weeks disagreeing with me followed me out into the parking lot just to say:
“I finally get it.”

Driving home tonight, I realized my cup is overflowing.

And as Mother’s Day weekend approaches, it would be easy to stay in bed. Easy to be angry. Easy to focus only on grief.

But today reminded me that blessings show up in the strangest places.

Sometimes they show up in treatment centers.
Sometimes they show up in parking lots.
Sometimes they show up in people finally unpacking their pain.

This morning I asked for a little guidance and maybe a hug from the universe.

Today she showed up big.

So here’s MY reminder:
Protect your peace.
Stop pouring into people who drain you.
Pay attention to the people who recharge your spirit.

Trust the process.

Sometimes healing shows up exactly where you least expect it.