When Douglas took off after high school to attempt life as an adult, he carried with him his “fortune”: savings bonds from grandpa, a car given by a friend, graduation monies and a promise of rent payment from us. Within months it was all gone. Squandered. Like the Prodigal Son, he had taken all the things that could have given him a successful launch and used them on “riotous living.” It’s no wonder that in those early days I often turned to the parable in Luke 15:11-32.
But that was before. Before a diagnosis. Before understanding of mental illness. Before the discernment to distinguish misdirected brain chemistry from willful foolish behavior. Continue reading