Our Paralleling Journies

May of 2009 was a very momentous month.  My wife was at the very end of her doctoral program and was defending her dissertation.  I had been serving as the bishop of the Young Single Adult ward in Glendale (Glendale 7^th) for three years and two months, and my Stake President took me aside at a gathering and said that he was going to release me from that responsibility.   Towards the end of the month, I rented a cap and gown and walked across the Pasadena Playhouse Auditorium to receive my Masters Degree diploma in Psychology from my school.

My wife had been attending school since 2006 and would be awarded her doctorate the following month.  I did not want to be released from my ecclesiatical responsibility because I loved it and the kids so much, but in the formal exit interview of my bishop calling, I was asked along with my wife to be in charge of the Stake’s Addiction Recovery Program, something that was right in line with what I had been studying at school.  My graduation allowed me to began the process of working in earnest on accumulating 3000 hours of single, couple, and group therapy that would enable me to be licensed as a Marriage and Family Therapist.  Interestingly, all the many hours I spent in the ARP program could not count toward the 3000 hours.

It was about this time when our son, Robert (BJ), was in the throes of his addiction to heroin.  It would be over nine months later when he would finally run out of options and would check himself in to an inpatient rehabilitation program.

 

But in the late spring of 2009, he was not thinking of stopping.  My wife and I were emotionally wrestling with him and with each other as we attempted in the best way we could to deal with the tornado that our son was in our family.

 

I know now that God was very mindful of my wife and me and gave us the blessing of working in the above mentioned ARP.  I witnessed there on a weekly basis, beyond those few with whom I was seeing professionally, the devastating effect that addiction had on people.  My wife led the Group of family members who were dealing with the devastating results of a loved one’s addiction, and it became very therapeutic for her personally to do that work twice a week.  Our ARP responsibility lasted for a few years.

Robert eventually started working the Twelve Steps that we were so involved with, and he began making changes in his life with God’s help.  I continued to accumulate my 3000 hours, learning more and more about addiction and learning important truths about the human experience, and at the same time, about myself.

When unfettered from drugs and from the shame that fueled the drug use, he began to flourish.  He began to see himself in a different way.  He began to see God in a different way.  He began to see life in a different way.  In his work with the Twelve Steps, once he was ready, he began to do a daily Tenth Step, continually taking inventory of his daily life and when he was wrong, promptly admitting it.

One of the most special days of my life was the day when, as the first people to make amends to in keeping with Step Nine, he sought to make amends with his mother and me.  She and I both recall thinking how thorough he was as he recounted so many ways in which he had caused problems for us.

 

He decided to attend a nearby community college, and then after a time, decided along with some fellows at the Beacon House, to follow in the steps of his addiction counselor, Mary Cook, who had been a integral part of his transformation, and take a four semester program to become an Alcohol and Drug Addition Counselor.  He enrolled at California State University, Dominguez Hills.  The leaders at Beacon House asked Robert to begin working with incoming guys, and that provided him with both experience and the hours he needed for his studies as CSUDH.  

I finished my 3000 hours of qualifying therapy work and submitted my hours to the State for approval.  That took way too long—eight months—but everything was in order and I was approved and given the go-ahead to take the licensing exam.   Since it had been five years since I had graduated, I did not feel prepared to take the two-part exam and opted to take a test prep course.  I have written somewhat about doing that in a previous blog posting.

In the meantime, Robert completed his four semesters, studied for his own licensing exam, and then took it and successfully passed it.  This was the first time in his educational career that he had seen coursework and schooling to its completion.  He did not graduate from high school nor community college, although he will likely be graduating from Harbor College in the next 12 months.  He isn’t sure if he is going to attend a university and obtain a bachelors degree. 

So I am scheduled to take my big exam on February 5^th.  I have been studying hard to prepare myself to take the 200 question multiple choice exam.   I am very hopeful that I will pass it, which will then allow me to take a 75 question Vignette Exam (questions about case studies).  I will likely take that test some time the end of February.  I long to get these test behind me so that I can have my life completely back and that I can lose the “I” (Intern) after the MFT initials.

Just a couple of days ago, Robert sent me what you see below.  I am so proud of him!  In the texts between us that day, he wrote that he too looks forward to the day that I can send him notification that I too am now officially licensed!

A Sense of Loss and A Sense of Relief

I am remembering when I went to LAX to send my daughter Emily, son-in-law Adam  and their four kids to return home.  They had come to visit us in California for three weeks. I found myself dealing with a sense of loss as well as a sense of relief.  As I related to others these seemingly conflicting feelings, most have knowingly nodded their heads, especially other grandparents.

My wife and I knew  more or less what was involved when we originally had the idea to invite them.  We knew that having them here was going to be a great opportunity to connect on a personal level with grandchildren with whom we regularly connected on Skype. But we also knew that there would be a six-year old and three four-year olds along with their parents in our little 1400 square foot home.  We also knew that our eldest grandchild would be here for much of the time the New Jersey Johnsons would be here.

We got what we suspected we would get!

Days would start early with the pitter-patter, and sometimes clump clumping, of little feet. I rarely woke up on my own.  I can't really fault them because of their high energy level combined with the fact that California is three hours earlier than New Jersey.  They would wake up in our living room where the four of them slept on the floor in sleeping bags. Their mother would attempt to shush them and encourage them to speak in "indoor voice" to allow "Pumpa and G-ma" to get a little more sleep.  Inevitably, their exuberance would get the best of them, or a sibling would cause the another to cry, and that was all she wrote.

When I wasn't working, I was trying to be with them, serving lunches or snacks, watching or playing with them at one of three nearby parks or in the front yard, going as part of a group to a museum, playing go fish, going with them to see Christmas lights, and just hanging out. When I was at work, my wife took them to the beach, took Emily and Elizabeth to see The Nutcracker, and took the bunch to the parks.

I noticed that the kids were voracious eaters as well as voracious dish and utencil dirtiers. Our dishwasher loads went from one every couple of days to two to three times per day, depending on the meal.  The bill for food went far above what we were accustomed to, but we knew that would happen.  The trash and recycled bins were filled to the top when the garbage trucks came.  

Days would end with the kids going potty and brushing their teeth, being read a Christmas night time story, singing a song, and having family prayer.  It was a production to get the kids into their sleeping bags in the living room and settled down, but once they were down it was oh so very peaceful!  

Christmas was fun.  The kids could not control themselves (age appropriate behavior!) and it was fun to see their eyes lit up and their energy on display.  Poor Suki the cat did not know what was going on!  We filled two large bags with wrapping paper and filled up the recycle bin with boxes and other recyclable stuff.  Lots of excitement!  Lots of fun!  Lots of bows placed by the grandchildren on my forehead, a Davis tradition.

My daughter Rebecca sent her son Isaac to spend time with the New Jersey Johnsons.  It was interesting to watch how he interacted with his younger cousins.  During the time Isaac was with us, Doug's Daniel also spent about 48 hours with his cousins.  I sense that this normally quiet, low energy little boy was completely out of his element and blown away by all of the hubbub and energy of his cousins.  It was a brief period when all six of our grandchildren were under our roof.  Wonderful!

I have specific memories of interacting with each grandchild during their time at our little California home.  I remember talking with Isaac about his spirituality.  I remember watching and cheering on Elizabeth at the McGroarty Park for being able to swing herself from one bar or ring to another.  I remember running around the front yard with Daniel with him trying to catch me to spank me.  I remember talking with Eddie at the kitchen table and at the Children's Science Museum at USC.  I remember playing Go Fish with energetic Lucy.  I remember going down our street with Charlie to pick up trash, a Pumpa-Charlie thing that we started last Christmas in New Jersey.

Once we took Daniel back to his mom's home in Valencia, once we took the Johnson Clan to LAX and put them on a jet back to New Jersey, once we put Isaac on a delayed jet back to Washington, it was deathly silent.  All that was heard was the muted sounds of Mumpa or Pumpa or Shumpa (all my names from the six) and G-ma rattling around the empty home.  All that remains are the memories.  I felt a definite sense of loss but also a sense of relief....