Chapter Nine

Let the one who boasts, boast in the Lord.  

1 Corinthians 1:27

Our Georgia angel Nancy must have sensed our brewing trouble from afar. Almost on cue, Roma called to tell me that she had called him with the possibility of a new adventure. I welcomed any plan Nancy endorsed. Nancy loved Roma with a mother’s love, and heaven knows I was happy to share the overwhelming responsibility of mothering Roma with another godly woman. I always said he couldn’t have too many mothers. She recognized God’s activity in Roma’s life. She had her eyes and ears open to God’s prompting on his behalf. Nancy was thoroughly bonded with Roma, and me, by virtue of sharing those God stories from their five weeks together earlier in the summer.

Nancy had learned from her church of a group of Christian men that she thought would benefit Roma. It was a six-month residency in a group home of Russian and Ukrainian young men committed to God, who lived communally and cooperatively, without addictions of any kind, including tobacco. They had daily Bible studies and held each other accountable. Roma was a man’s man. Maybe this would be a good fit. He had thrived in the controlled structure of Fork Union. Until he didn’t.  But a tumultuous year and a half had aged us all.

Nancy was enthusiastic about the opportunity for Roma, if he could get in. She gave me contact info for the leader, Edward. I called to learn more. Roma was excited about it too. Was he excited because he was in need of a new place to stay and someone, other than his parents, to take care of him? I feared that was the case. I had to be careful about my enthusiasm, or Roma would shut down the suggestion. It had to be his idea to apply. I offered to meet him for breakfast, my treat, so he could tell me his next move and what he was planning to do. Edward said Roma had to be ready for this program, or it was doomed to fail and would be a waste of everyone’s time and money.

When I met Roma for breakfast, my heart sank. He didn’t seem any different than six months earlier, when he had left for Florida with a spirit of haughtiness and pride. But one casual comment he made alerted me to a long-unspoken loss and need.

“Mom, I wish we could find Liana.” He spoke out of context, just a passing thought, it seemed, and he said no more about his ancient history. But my heart suddenly ached for my struggling boy who had had to suppress the memory of a beloved sister, ten years older than him, to move on with a new family. Thirteen years had passed, and he rarely spoke of his sister. But apparently, she was not forgotten. When he said, “I wish we could find Liana,” what he really meant was “I wish you could find Liana.” Roma always trusted me to brave hell, literally, or high water to help him. That was the moment I felt a genuine hope that finding his sister would heal Roma’s wounded heart. That sudden prompting made me feel it was possible. I promised God and silently promised Roma that I would take some steps toward locating his birth sister. I was beginning to realize that Liana was the missing key that might unlock a hidden place in Roma’s heart. I tucked that promise away for another day, when immediately pressing issues weren’t upon us.

I feared Roma was not ready for this program in Atlanta. Nancy confided that after talking to him, she didn’t think he was ready either. This was for mature, disciplined young men. Roma fit neither category. Roma wasn’t trying to fool anyone. He sincerely thought he was mature and responsible. Edward required Roma to talk to him on the phone every night for a week, so he could determine if the program and Roma would mutually benefit each other. At the end of the week, to our surprise, Edward accepted Roma into the group home.

Saint Nancy arranged everything, as I prepared to leave a day after Roma. I had received word that my mother was dying. For the first weeks of October, I was involved with my mother’s last days in Hospice and then her funeral. 

Roma, set up in his new group home in Atlanta, had restricted phone privileges at first but was allowed to call me because of the death in the family. He said he really loved his grandmother and was sorry he couldn’t join us for her funeral service. Did I imagine that he sounded more mature already, after only a couple of weeks?

When I finally returned to Maryland, ominous warnings came from Nancy and Edward. Roma wasn’t engaging in the program. He would put his head down and didn’t seem interested at Bible study. He knew before he agreed to go, that the program was Christ-centered and deep study was expected. It had been his idea to go; I had made sure of that, and I had tried to make sure he knew what was expected of him. 

My fear was that when life got tough, when he lost his job and faced losing his friend’s couch, Roma saw this program as a chance to retreat into himself while someone else took care of his daily needs, someone other than his dad and me. We were prepared, again, to back away and remove the safety net.

I got the dreaded but not so surprising call on the night of November 1, 2014, four weeks after he had started the program. Nancy’s discouraged voice greeted my anxious “Hello.”

“Debbie, I hate to tell you this, but Roma got kicked out of the group home. I just got a call from Edward.” 

After my moan, she continued, “Roma got caught using tobacco. Then he became hostile and threatening, wanting to know who ratted him out. Edward took him to Walmart to let him pick up some needed items, then he was going to take him to the bus station to go home to Maryland, but Roma blew up in Walmart and started cussing, so Edward just walked out and left him there.” My heart plummeted. It was a Saturday night, about 9 p.m.

I thanked Nancy for all she had done to help my self-sabotaging boy. Nancy ended with, “Debbie, I love you, and I love Roma, and I know you will understand, but I can’t help Roma if he reaches out to me. Edward suggested we let Roma hit bottom.”

Of course I understood. God had confirmed the same to me. The image of the Prodigal Son and the premonition of suffering had been a constant echo for me for months. We had no power to fix Roma. We had to let him have his way, even though it would end in failure. I could not help Roma. Any attempts to rescue him would only delay the inevitable crash.

As I was trying to remember to breathe, Roma began texting me his side of the story. “I didn’t do anything to deserve getting kicked out. This guy just left me at Walmart.” I just texted back. “You’ll have to work it out. There’s nothing I can do.”

All my senses told me to remove the safety net, and if he failed, he would have to figure it out. It seemed a little easier with him 600 miles away. I could hardly help him if I wanted to. But I didn’t want to. I was, however, profoundly sad about my precious Roma. “What will become of Roma,” I asked God. “Please protect him.”

I went to sleep wondering if the Walmart in Atlanta was open all night. If not, where would he go? Roma was about to hit the proverbial “rock bottom.” God had been foreshadowing some kind of suffering for over a year. Was this finally the thing I feared? I thanked God again, as I had on that disappointing drive to pick Roma up for the last time at FUMA, because I was not completely caught off guard. As bad as this seemed, it could have been so much worse.

That feeling of impending doom lingered after each of his episodes of downward spiral. So now, left at a Walmart in Atlanta on a Saturday night in November, Roma was about to face his biggest challenge yet. He was going to be homeless with no safety net. 

Was this the beginning of the real trouble God had warned me about? Where would Roma turn? Roma could not save himself. 

If God had been warning me, none of this could be a surprise to Him. Right? I put my faith in God. If I surrendered all to Him, I couldn’t worry. All I could do was pray for my sweet, lost boy. And as I prayed, I discovered a deeper faith and a closer God. Roma was smart and resourceful. Surely, he would find his way and know God better in the process.

Continue with Chapter Ten