A Mother's Prayers

I was raised in a decent home. My parents are still married, and they never drank or used drugs. My father was a minister for my entire life. My mom always wanted me looking my best, and acting my best. She was so proud of me. However, somewhere along the line, I started acting up. My mom's smiles started turning to frowns. I started being disrespectful and rebellious. Soon thereafter I discovered drugs and alcohol, and thus I began my downward spiral.
When I was 17, my parents were awoken in the middle of the night by a phone call from the sheriff's department informing them that their son was in Intensive Care and that they should get to the hospital as soon as possible. I had gotten drunk, stole a car, and wrecked it into a telephone pole going 80 mph without a seat belt. I had to have emergency heart surgery, three blood transfusions, and my right arm was badly damaged. It was a miracle I lived through the accident, and I actually had to be resuscitated a couple of times on the way to the hospital. The accident left my right arm completely paralyzed. I was right handed, but not anymore.
Things got worse before they got better. I had a new drug to abuse when I got out of the hospital, oxycodone. I found out later that my parents were constantly praying for me, and my mother would cry herself to sleep some night over me.
Soon, I had a spiritual experience and I surrendered my life to God. I stopped smoking and using. Life was good for a few years, but I never admitted my powerlessness over my addictions. Eventually, my disease crept back into my life and I found myself in jail again, wondering how I got there and why this was happening to me; (God disciplines those that he loves.) I managed to pull my head out of my butt long enough to surrender my life to God again, and stopped using and drinking. However, I was still in control, and I still never admitted my powerlessness over my addictions.
A few years later, I was back to the races and by now a full fledged alcoholic. God only knows how many hours my mother cried over me.
I was 28 by now, and was introduced to crack for the first time. My downward spiral went from fast to the speed of light. Six months later I was robbing a gas station for $150 bucks. I'm here in prison doing a five piece over that. My mom had a nervous breakdown when I was sentenced. I wasn't completely responsible for that but, but I am sure I had something to do with it. We hurt everyone that loves us when we choose to be selfish and self-centered in our addiction.
I lied to myself for a long time, thinking I was only hurting myself. Now, I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired and watching my family suffer along with me. Now my Father is dying and needing a second kidney transplant and in the hospital about to get open heart surgery for five blockages in his heart. At a time when my family needs me the most, my choices have separated me from them and I can't be there to support them. This situation is out of my control, and the best I can do for them now is to focus on my recovery and pray for them. My goal is to bring tears of joy instead of tears of sorrow to my mother's eyes. I want my Dad to know before he dies that his son was doing the best he could and the next right thing . By the grace of God, I am living one day at a time and my Mother's Prayers are being answered.