Oops, that sounds like I don't think things turn out "right" and that means either that God is not in charge or that God messes with me and my own for no good reason.
But I do believe that God is both in charge and not capricious but loving and wise and always has my highest good at the top of the agenda. And I have come to understand I don't know what is my highest good until it gets here.
My son's life was spinning out of control in willful, rage-filled frustration and anger, self-medicating, and in great danger much of the time. (35% of pedestrians killed in 2011 were over the legal limit to drive). And I was spinning right along with him, keeping the cell phone by my bed in fear of "that call."
What had I done wrong? Well, plenty of people had theories and accusations to throw at me. But in the end, while I had certainly made my share of mistakes, wallowing in self-pity provided neither comfort nor a way ahead.
What did finally help was the simple, yet stunning truth: I am not in charge. I have done things I believed to be good and wise that did not improve outcomes. I have tried to make deals with God and I have tried to fix problems not of my own making, thereby undermining the positive things that my child might have learned if I had stayed out of the way. I have learned to be grateful that I have not been left in charge, because good intentions not withstanding, I have no idea what my child actually needs.
It turned out that incarceration brought blessings: (1) I deeply thank God for the call (reversed charges, of course) where my son, sounding very upset said, "I coulda died!" Fellow inmates who cooked meth had explained what they put it in it and...the light dawned (as it had not as we pleaded with him) that the FDA is not checking meth houses for safety of process or product. (2) I got to speak to my son, my real, true son, who had been held captive by alcohol and illegal drugs until I thought I had lost him for good. Sobriety does not guarantee efficient communication, but being high, drugged, doped, flying, buzzed and generally out out of it does guarantee lousy communication, even with oneself. Slowly I began to have hope he would actually know good days again. They came slowly and with uncertainty like a toddler learning to walk, But over the years there have been better days more often and each one is a blessing and a joy. (3) For the first time in many months I slept confident that if his temper and life-style lead to his death, someone would at least let me know.
I never expected to be in this position, but God knew what was coming and has never failed me. If you haven't been talking to God lately or ever, what can it hurt? And it might help in ways you can not even imagine.