Yesterday I was looking for something I couldn't find--a more frequent occurrence of late--and was going through all of the kitchen cabinets hoping it would turn up. I never did find what I was looking for, but on the very top shelf of one of the cabinets, waaay at the back, behind the soup bowls, I did find some things that I had forgotten were even missing: three small, very sharp knives.
About seven years ago, when my son first started to have issues with severe depression, he went through a "cutting" phase. He would use a knife to cut--or self-injure--himself. (To this day, you can still see the word "SIN" as a scar on his left bicep.) Knives would often go missing, and we'd sometimes find them in his room. Or hidden in his bed covers. It was very scary.
It finally got to the point where we had to hide all the knives. The larger kitchen knives were all hidden in one place. But these three smaller paring knives must have gotten stuck up on the top shelf of that cabinet at a different time. I'm not sure when they were hidden up there; but I do know why they were hidden up there.
Thankfully my son eventually outgrew his cutting phase. But finding those knives yesterday brought back some pretty dark memories. It also reminded me how much my wife and I have been through. And how much our son's been through.
And how far all of us have come.
Amen and AMEN!
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