As many of you noticed from my last blog, I have a two year old daughter, but it may come as a surprise that I also have a 19 year old son. How this happened is a post for another time.

Late last night he called in tears because his beloved pet died. He was very close with his ferret, spending time with him each night, but what I think compounded matters is that he’s on his own for the first time and everything seems to be breaking down. His aging car, dwindling finances, and even some promising dating possibilities.

I remember this time myself when I realized I was on my own for the first time. I had just left the USAF, moved to a city where I knew no one, leased an apartment I wasn’t sure I could afford, and started job hunting. I had just enough money to last until I could get a job, no more. One cold night, finances running low and job prospects abysmal, I attempted to light a fire in the fireplace. I realized, a bit too late, that I had forgotten to open the flu. As the flames rushed up the wall to the wooden (highly flammable) mantle, I reached for the only thing I could think of in my panic that might quell the burgeoning fire, my sleeping bag. No luck. Remembering the fire extinguisher in the hallway, I managed to put out the combustion, and as I sat surveying the powdery, charred mess, I realized that I was all alone. Not just alone, but in real danger of failing to launch successfully. To a young person this is life-defining. I decided that I probably wasn’t fit to survive and was inevitably going to prove this to the world.

Looking back, I can see the folly of this decision, but in that moment it was suffocating. I still find areas of my life where this decision has a stronghold, and work to remove them as I become aware of them, but it’s a daunting task requiring courage and consciousness even at 36.

I’m now a praying man, so I can suggest this practice to those approaching this fulcrum in life, but even this can seem insufficient, so I humbly offer myself as a resource to anyone going through this. I may not have an answer, but at least we can gasp for fresh air together. As for my son, we’re learning to swim together and it’s healing us both.

For the rest of you reading this post who’ve made it past this crucial crossroads, be willing to go through it again with someone in your life. You may discover for yourself an old scar waiting for fresh pavement and be privileged enough to dress a bandage with someone you care about.