something good

Peanut, well... he's cycling. There are all these behavioral patterns you pick up on when working with the mentally ill. Some of the patterns have fancy scientific and psychological explanations, while others don't. And Peanut, well, nobody can quite say whether or not there's an explanation for his special brand 'o craziness; he's just too young, under-treated, and under-observed to know yet.

Regardless of what we may or may not 'know,' the voices that plague Peanut's mind from time to time are back. Back with vigor. Despite a formidable arsenal of prescribed routine and as-needed drugs, Peanut has been missing out on some zzz's. Apparently that devil is a big mouthed sum*B and just won't shut up long enough to let the poor kid rest. Last night especially.

So we prayed together out-loud.

As if someone had unplugged a stereo blasting lousy mariachi music, Peanut's eyes suddenly popped open as I said "Amen," and he exclaimed, "Dang! Thanks Jesus! The voices stopped!"

I was skeptical. The kid is a people pleaser; he knows I'd love nothing more than to hear him say 'Jesus made the voices stop!' Ten minutes later he called for me and asked, "Are angels real?" He then explained he saw a man in his room with lots of curly golden hair. "He was kinda scary, but he didn't make me feel scared. He made me feel safe," he said.

Oh, Peanut, always making me question what I 'know.'

But there, this event in itself, the seeing of something not scary, something new yet comforting... its a tiny little break in the cycle. Something different. Something good.