A Rescued Son

Last night, I received a text from Jordan - a text of TOTAL frustration and wits end -
He said he wanted to kill Emerson.
Dramatic?  Yes..But I could tell it was said in half truth.
I text back saying 'Don't you dare...walk away - calm down etc etc'.
He text back saying Emerson was inconsolable - didn't want to be held, didn't want to be put down and for two hours, had been crying without reason.
Jordan was beside himself.
I told him to give Em to Lexi and to walk away - leave the room.  So he went and took a walk.
This morning, I sent Jordan a text and asked how things had resolved itself with Emerson.
He texted back, 'I didn't kill him'.  I congratulated him.
Jordan is my child, that 'pre - Prozac', I had up against the wall with one hand, and the other hand in a fist, ready to punch his face through the wall.  It was shortly after that, that I went on Paxil, and have been on it ever since.  Thus, my children still live.
I felt so bad for him, having experienced those feelings about his own son.
About 10:00 this morning, I received a phone call from Jordan.  When I picked up the phone, I noticed I had missed several phone calls and text messages, all from Jordan.  I worried.
It was pouring rain this morning - down pour even.  Jordan had hit a pot hole and blown out his tire and was stranded on the freeway.  He was asking if I could, by any chance, leave work and come and get him - I made a few arrangements, got directions as to where he was and then quickly left to rescue him.  I was out of gas...had noticed that on the way to work, but figured I would gas up after work before heading on home.  But here, I found myself off to rescue Jordan on an empty tank and prayed that Heavenly Father would see fit to allow me to at least rescue Jordan before having my own catastrophe.  My phone was still on silent, so it wasn't until I saw it flash, that I noticed Jordan had tried to call 7 more times.  He was panicked that I had passed him - so told me to look for a police car that had pulled up behind him and I was to pull over in front of Jordan.  He was only another minute away and it was with in a quarter mile, I saw him pulled over to the side.  He was soaked...to the bone...and as I saw him standing there stranded, my heart realized he was my son - my little boy - soaking wet - needing rescued - needing help - and he had called me.  I pulled over and he rushed to the back of my car, where I had opened the trunk for him to get out the car jack and other needed tools to change the tire.
When he had finally collected everything, he closed the trunk and came over to the passenger side of the car.  I rolled down the window where I could see his drenched and frustrated face.  He was feeling discouraged and overwhelmed, I could tell.  He gave me a heartfelt thanks, and I extended my hand to tuck into his palm, $50 dollars I had hidden in my wallet and I told him to 'go buy a new tire.'
His face was so tender and I could feel my eyes start to tear up, so I closed the window as he was thanking me and drove off.
I had to exit the freeway and then turn around and get back on the freeway to go back to work.  So as I passed him on the other side of the freeway, I could see him on his knees, changing the tire, with the rain continuing to soak him from head to toe.  I was annoyed the police officer wasn't out helping him...it made such a pathetic and sorry picture of him alone..My heart ached for him.
I received text messages and phone calls from him throughout the day, thanking me over and over for rescuing him.  He was so appreciative, and I was glad.
He is my son...how could I not drop everything and go to his rescue?  This son, that at age 7, I almost pounded through the wall in the kitchen?
He'll look back one day, on yesterdays experience and emotions and realize that I rescued him more last night, than I ever did today.