"A Mother's Intuition: Unwavering love in the face of despair"

[The astonishing way my Mother randomly found me on the streets, without knowing where I was]

[Spencer Brooks Otto] and Mother [Dayne Otto] on Mother's Day 2023

The Background

Growing up, I was absolutely certain that my Mother was a rogue KGB agent or at the very least, an undercover CIA operative. She had an uncanny ability to thwart my mischievousness at every turn, even when I "dotted my i's and crossed my t's". I would sneak out of the house at 16 on a school night to go hold a candle-lit, same-bed Bible study with my girlfriend(for real bro), and low-and-behold, a faint voice would inevitably whisper through my girlfriends window at 2AM, "Spencer Brooks Otto, if you don't come out right now I'm going to ring that girls fuckin' doorbell!" Mom wasn't no punk, she didn't mess around. One of my personal favorites, upon retreating to my glorious Christ-filled room of holiness one evening, I planned to educate myself on the female anatomy via my newly acquired stash of colorful adult education videos(very informative). Upon retrieving my handy-dandy portable DVD player, that I used to watch endless sermons and prayer meetings on, I realized that my first "adult educational video" didn't work. Oh well, lets try the second one. This went on until I realized none of them worked, which was totally unacceptable in my eyes. Being the Copernicus level intellectual I am, I decided to flip the disks over and inspect further. It was at this point I realized that Mom(I don't think that's her real name), had taken a knife to the back of every disk, carving them up like a Thanksgiving Day turkey, then casually returned them to their original resting place. Fuckin-A, Agent Mom had struck again. Well played Mother, well played. We laugh now at these endless stories of cat-and-mouse in which Mother seemed to always have the upper hand. Upon constant interrogation on my part, her response was always the same, "Son, sometimes the Lord gives me an intuition." Great, thanks for that Lord!

In the darkest of moments, divine intuition can guide a mother's heart, urging her to never give up hope, even in the face of certain demise, which I seemed to constantly face. This is a story of one such mother, whose unwavering love and intuition led her on a journey to find her son, a young man lost in the grips of addiction, aimlessly wandering the streets of Austin TX for the better part of 12 months. Let us delve into the depths of her resilience, faith, and the heavenly power of a mother's love.

The Descent

For over a year, I had been lost in the abyss of addiction, a haunting reality that left my Mother heartbroken and fearful for my life. My situation had been a long time coming, a harsh reality that everyone knew, yet few could comprehend. I became officially homeless on January 10th, 2019 after I left my 6th in-patient recovery center, full aware of what I was getting myself into. I wanted no part of the monotonous revolving door of treatment that had become far too normal for me, and more importantly I wanted to get high. Up until this point, I had exclusively been injecting heroin for the better part of 9 years, never once touching methamphetamine. In my deluded mind, I was too good for meth and would never bow to that level of depravity. Meth addicts were dirty, grungy, tooth-less degenerates. I was a good-looking, all-American heroin addict, big difference(makes sense). Mom used to religiously quote me a scripture from the Bible that says, "be careful, for pride cometh before the fall." I had plenty of pride to go around, and like this prophetic word spoken over my life, I was about to fall even further than I thought was humanly possible.

[Alleyway] behind the now closed Toys-R-Us building in the Tech Ridge shopping center where I slept at nights.

The Prayer(s)

Eventually that fateful day came, as the progressive disease of addiction tends to do, when I was offered some crystal meth. Being the over-achieving junkie that I was, I decided that life was already bad enough, how much worse could it get, so I did the responsible thing and shot it directly into my veins. Boom went the dynamite, literally. It felt like dynamite went off in my head. As I learned later, this train of thought is straight out of the recovery text that I now follow. Essentially, it explains how our addicted mind will tell us to take a bad situation, "chalk it up to the game"(white folks, that's a fancy expression for "fuck it"), and go ahead and drown our sorrows in our poison of choice because after all, we're already miserable we might as well be loaded and miserable. This is the subtle way our addicted mind continues to drive our addictions. When any rational person in a volatile situation such as living on the streets would run towards recovery, I run towards more heartache and destruction. Thus is why addiction is classified as a "Disease of the Mind." I cannot conjure up a conscious recollection of the misery of even a day ago due to my using, I just keep on using. As I took up permanent residence behind a vacated Toys-R-Us in the Tech Ridge shopping center, I though I had it made in the shade! How awesome is this? I have a sweet electrical box to shield me from the alleyway traffic, I have these big buildings to shield me from the shoppers, and I have this nice curbed drainage flat to use as a pillow, how lucky am I?(makes sense pt.2).

[Electrical Box] which I slept behind for months, before moving locations due to possum infestation.

It was at this time that my Mom fully realized that I was living on the streets, as I had been hiding that fact for a couple months at this point. As any loving Mother would, she started praying day-and-night, not only that God would save me from myself, BUT, also that God would give her intuition as to where I was currently sleeping at, just so she could see my face before I died. I can't even begin to imagine what that must have been like. To get to a point where a Mother's prayers are resolved to asking God to just let her see her son one more time before he dies is incomprehensible for me as a Son. Despite these insurmountable odds facing her, Mom refused to succumb to despair. Just like I ran towards dope in the face of destruction, Mom ran towards faith in the face of evil. She refused to let evil haunt her, or believe the evil thoughts that surrounded her. What sets my Mother apart from anyone else I have ever met, along with being brave enough to pray like a biblical rock-star, Mom has the courage and bravery to start moving her feet. So many people of faith pray hard, and wish for the best, and although admirable, I don't know too many who follow that up with rigorous action as well. Mom doesn't just pray for the lost souls in the trenches, she jumps into those damn trenches and starts doing everything in her power to pull people out, akin to a decorated solider. You want to see the face of a spiritual combat veteran? Look no further than my Mother, she's got the stripes to prove it too. In her moments of desperation, she turned to the heavens above, seeking solace and guidance. Each night, as she embarked on her search, she whispered fervent prayers to God, asking for a sign, a beacon of hope to illuminate her son's path. She entrusted her son's life to a higher power, believing that there was a greater purpose for his existence. And once again, like he tends to do, God answered.

The Encounter(s)

During her tireless quest, she encountered the harsh realities of addiction and homelessness. She witnessed the pain etched on the faces of those battling similar demons, a haunting reflection of her own son's struggle. Yet, in the depths of despair, she found glimmers of humanity and compassion, discovering organizations and individuals dedicated to helping those in need. I remember one morning sitting in a McDonalds lobby talking to a Man who bought meth from me. He was a familiar face, having lived relatively close to me in the shopping center. He randomly blurted out, "Hey your Mom was looking for you, and after I told her you weren't here currently, she went to the store and bought me some snacks and sodas. I gotta tell you man, I wish someone would come looking for me every once in-a-while.

[McDonalds] where a fellow homeless man mentioned my Mother was looking for me, after buying him snacks and soda.

" This story made me cry, as well as smile. That's just like my Mom, never ceasing to help others on her journey. Shortly after this conversation, I retreated to my palace of concrete and proceeded to go to church(shoot meth). As I sat there contemplating the Kennedy Assassination(meth is a hell of a drug), I noticed a familiar vehicle creeping slowly by like an undercover cop. As this person emerged through the alley, I was floored beyond belief. "Mom? How did you know I was here?" I already knew her response. Just like she had done before when I was a kid, and would go on to do countless other times, she had prayed, and God answered. Austin TX is a big ass city. Although she had an idea of where I would be on a given day, unless she had spies on the street, or a GPS in my syringes(KGB anything is possible), she found me purely on faith. That in-itself is a miracle. I believe God honors people who humbly surrender to him daily. I believe this was God's way of showing my Mom that he never abandons his followers. A few months later, I had relocated to Airport & Justin Lane off North Lamar, migrating to where the "real" action was at. Being the resourceful junkie that I had become, one of my main hustles in order to score dope(and food) was to wash my drug dealer's and his girlfriends clothes. They lived in a nearby motel, which was and is a dope den, and at the time, he took pity on me and gave me "work" in order to support my habit. He made me a deal that once a week if I took his and his girlfriends clothes to the laundromat, washed and folded them, he would give mean eight ball of meth(3.5 gram). If you are a "normie" you might be repulsed at the idea of a drug dealer doing this, but if you have been there, you can appreciate how this guy was looking out for me the best way he knew how. He was no saint, but he would constantly tell me, "You don't belong out here," so he made it a point to help me out, albeit in a way that wasn't necessarily good for my health or self-esteem. It was a June Sunday morning, hot as shit, I had just walked from UT campus all the way to a local corner store at airport and N. Lamar that we would all frequent. As I waited on my dealer to drop off his clothes for me to wash, out of nowhere, Mom rolls up on the corner as if we had a planned meeting spot. Once again , my mind was blown. Same prayer, same answer. There she was. At this point I was already paranoid as hell due to the nature of methamphetamine, but this seriously was a new level of paranoia. I was floored, and grateful as hell. This same type of occurrence happened a few other times in the coming year.

[Nugents Grocery] now defunct corner-store where us homeless junkies would hang out, the same place Mom randomly found me again, one June Sunday morning.

The Road to Recovery

Although it took me a while longer, more trial and error, more unwillingness to accept the simple program of recovery, I eventually embarked on a new chapter, supported by my Mother's unwavering love and the resources she tirelessly sought. As I navigated the complexities of addiction, finding solace in support groups, counseling, and self-realization, Mom was one of my only constants. She never preached, never demeaned, never told me I needed to do this or that, she only met me where I was at. The journey has been arduous, but our bond has grown stronger with every step. She has often been and continues to often be the voice of reason, as well as the gentle voice of truth when I need to hear it. She doesn't enable, she doesn't back down, she only loves the way a Godly, humble Mother loves. This is a testament to the indomitable spirit of maternal love. It reveals the depths a mother is willing to go to find her child, even in the darkest moments. It underscores the power of faith, prayers, and the belief in something greater than ourselves. That young man, me, once lost and wandering, now stands on the path of recovery, fueled by the love and resilience of his praying Mother. May this story remind us all of the extraordinary strength within a Mother's heart and the transformative power of unwavering love. Mother's, no matter how hard it gets, no matter how bleak it seems, don't quit praying for your kids. Your prayers are always heard.

My Mother, Grandmother, and Aunt on Mothers Day 2023.