Gratitude – God is not a Genie

“My gratitude speaks, when I care, and when I share with others.” – The Gratitude Statement

I was recently watching a video in which the presenter was talking about the importance of the words we use to express our gratitude in different situations. He used the example from his own experience in which he and his wife had expressed their gratitude to God for their new child. “God has blessed us so wonderfully,” they would exclaim.

To most, the statement seemed to be a heartfelt expression of gratitude to God for their new child. Yet for one couple, it was the opposite. The couple was childless after years of trying to have children, only to experience a series of miscarriages, and the heartache that comes with them. To this couple, the thought of God having blessed the first couple with a child brought with it the automatic reflex response of wondering why on earth God had not blessed them too. What had they done wrong? Had they offended God? Was He punishing them for some unknown act of rebellion?

Where was their blessing?

The presenter in the video said that the encounter with this couple had changed how he approaches what he once referred to as “God’s Blessings.” Since then, he and his wife, rather than speaking of God’s blessings, speak of their own gratitude for how God helps them to be parents to their new baby. They share about how they experience God’s presence in their lives through both the good and bad times of parenting. Instead of proclaiming God’s goodness for blessing them, they refer to God’s goodness for preparing them for whatever life brings.

I appreciate the sensitivity the presenter and his wife demonstrated in their encounter with the other couple. The way that they allowed that encounter to change the way in which they described God’s role in their lives reflects the caring aspect of The Gratitude Statement. It is a lesson from which I can definitely benefit as I learn to share my recovery story with others.

As far as lives go, I have plenty for which to be grateful. It would be so easy to speak of God’s blessings in my life while sharing with fellow addicts. Yet, to do so could easily lead to resentment from those currently struggling to find things in life for which to express gratitude. Even worse, my words risk putting God in a box, or treating Him like some sort of magic genie. “Just do what I did, and God has to give you the results I got.”

Even though that would never be my intent in sharing my story, the risk of coming across that way is very real, because WORDS MATTER.

So, as I strive to express my gratitude for the new way of life I have found in recovery, I pray that my words would consist of both caring and sharing. Living in recovery does not automatically result in happy, fulfilling relationships. It prepares me for them. Nor does recovery make me successful at work. Rather, it prepares me for work, and to be a contributing member of society.

Do I believe God has blessed me? Yes! Do I believe He would prefer that I express my gratitude for His blessings in a way that is encouraging to others, and inspires them to identify the things in their lives for which to be grateful? Absolutely. When I do so, my gratitude speaks loudly.

Have a remarkable day!

Optimism, Peanuts, Cracker Jack, and a Trough

I don’t know whether our outings to Wrigley Field were planned in advance by my parents, or if they were acting on the spur of the moment. What I do know is that when Mom and Dad would call us up to their bedroom from watching Saturday morning cartoons to announce a trip to Chicago to watch our beloved Cubs play baseball, my brother John and I were consistently thrilled by the news.

It would be a day of peanuts, Cracker Jack, and peeing in the troughs Wrigley Field had in men’s rooms in lieu of urinals. I know that last bit is a crazy thing to get excited over, but for boys who relished peeing outdoors at the time, it represented a great mix of civilization and the feral life we enjoyed while on adventures in the woods surrounding our home.

The other thing we consistently enjoyed about attending games at Wrigley Field was the hope that this would be the day that we caught a baseball. John and I would each take our baseball gloves, which we would wear throughout the game, hoping that a foul ball would head our way. Surely this would be the time that an errant ball would land in my leather Rawlings baseball glove. You know, the one with the leather strings that I’d chewed on while playing right field throughout my Little League Baseball career.

The truth is, despite my optimism, had a foul ball come near me back then, chances are I would not be here to write this blog today. While John was an exceptional baseball player, I was… not. Back then, I seemed to be completely lacking in any form of eye-hand coordination. I could watch a ball head straight at me, position my body and glove carefully, then hear the thump as the ball landed on the ground next to me. It was as if a band of Kent-hating pixies had magically redirected the ball just before being caught. I’d been so certain that I was going to catch it. What on earth had happened?

So, although John can legitimately regret never having had the chance to catch a foul-ball at Wrigley, I should count my blessings that one never came my way. So, I look back at those days with fond memories of everything else Wrigley Field had to offer. Maybe that explains why peeing in a trough was such a big deal to me!

There is something wonderous about a little boy, ill-equipped to catch a foul ball at a Major League Baseball game, who still musters the optimism needed to carry his ball glove into the stands. It is the kind of optimism that sets aside logic and reason, replacing them with faith and hope. Faith in his ability, and hope in the path of the baseball. That is how I seek to practice optimism in my adult life.

Instead of carrying a well-worn baseball glove into life, I carry optimism. Six years, two months, and twenty-six days ago, when I got clean, I was not carrying much into life’s ballgame. That optimism that had once been so prevalent in my life had been snuffed out by my drug abuse and addiction to meth. I was in my mid-fifties, and starting life over again. I’d sacrificed so much at meth’s alter that I didn’t even have a trough to pee in. Sure, I still had my job; but I could not imagine my employer actually keeping me around very much longer. Surely they saw what a hopeless mess I was.

What I did have though was a group of people who believed in me. My parents along with John and his wife Brenda believed in me. So did Amanda, who in all reality should have dumped me long before that last relapse. Along with them was my sponsor, as well as a new group of friends who had seen miracles in the lives of drug addicts with much less going for them. Those were the people who practiced optimism on my behalf when I had none of my own.

Thankfully, as I worked the Twelve Steps with my sponsor, and learned to practice spiritual principles, I found myself carrying my baseball glove once again. Not a literal glove, but one formed by optimism. It actually allowed me to see that there was hope. I could be a responsible member of society again. I could even prepare for any foul balls that would come my way. Best of all, today I have the opportunity to share my optimism with others who are lacking optimism of their own. I can be like all of those people who believed in me when I found no reason to believe in myself.

Lord, help me to be that source of optimism in the lives of the people around me. I want others, when they look at my life, to see how bright the future is when the drugs are replaced by recovery. Help us all to…

Have a remarkable day!

Responsibility and Milkshakes from Mr. McClellan

I was never one to get called down to the principle’s office. So when the call came, summoning me to Mr. McClellan’s office back in sixth grade, I was nervous. Had I done something wrong without knowing it? Had I not gotten caught for something I had knowingly done wrong, thinking no one would notice?

Showing up to find my friends Doug and Jeff standing there too only added confusion to the situation. I could not think of any recent shenanigans the three of us had been involved in together. So, as we shuffled into his office, we all were confused about the purpose of our visit.

“Boys, I’ve talked to your parents.” Now that is most definitely NOT the opening statement any child wants to hear from their principle. What could we possibly have done that was so serious that our parents had to be notified. Man were we ever in trouble!

He continued, “I have to move a lot of textbooks out of storage, and would like the three of you to help me. We’ll be starting after the last bus leaves tomorrow after school. Please wear clothes that you don’t mind getting a little dirty. I’ll look forward to seeing you then.” Holy cow! What we thought was going to be an inquisition had turned into a job offer, albeit an unpaid job; but a job offer all the same!

The anxiety the three of us had been experiencing only moments before had morphed into pride and self-satisfaction. Mr. McClellan had not only not been upset with our behavior; but he had actually deemed us worthy of taking on some after-school responsibilities. How cool was that?!?

The next day, after our work was finished, things only got better. “Boys, your mothers will not be here to pick you up for a little while yet. How about we go into town and get milk shakes at the Dairy Queen?” That milkshake may have been the most satisfying and delicious milkshake I’ve ever had. It didn’t only represent a reward for our work; but also for the responsibility given to us by our principle. Someone we all respected and admired. I have to believe I talked my mom’s ear off on the ride home from the school that afternoon. It had been one of the proudest moments of my elementary school years.

In recovery, one will find recovering drug addicts who have experienced the feeling of being given responsibility somewhere in their past; as well as those who have never been entrusted with any sort of responsibility. However, in spite of our pasts, when we begin working the Twelve Steps, and applying the spiritual principles found in them in our daily lives, something incredible happens. We change from lost causes into people who can be trusted with extra responsibility.

Often, this extra responsibility begins in some sort of service to the recovery fellowship. We take on the role of chair at a meeting, or we serve on a Hospitals and Institutions panel, taking the message of recovery to people who otherwise would not have access to it. In my case, I have discovered that I can be of service answering the local Help Line. Something that can be done despite my business travel.

I even got to field a call from a young lady in search of meetings for her father to attend while in Las Vegas last week. I had been visiting with a co-worker over lunch when the call came. Seeing that it was a Help Line call on caller ID, I excused myself and invested time in fulfilling my responsibility. I’m telling you, every one of those phone conversations is like that milkshake. A reminder of how far recovery has brought me, and how grateful I am for the life I have today.

Responsibility goes well beyond the walls of a recovery room. Soon, I will be taking on additional responsibility at work. It is responsibility that my education and work experience from before my worst days of addiction helped me prepare for; but it is responsibility for which my drug abuse could have easily disqualified me. Yet here I am, someone deemed worthy of added responsibility.

Drugs tried to rob me of life’s milkshakes. Addiction does not allow any room for living up to any responsibilities in life. Recovery, on the other hand, prepares the once hopeless addict, for a life replete with opportunity. I’m so grateful for the lesson Mr. McClellan taught the three of us that day. It is a lesson that has stayed with me, and reminds me that I am worthy of a milkshake every now and again.

Have a remarkable day!

Positive Thinking and Positive Doing

Last night, as I traveled home from a business trip, I was reminded of the importance of positive thinking, and how it influences my life. On my first flight, I was seated next to an older couple who were not so discretely arguing over… well, everything. The husband was seemingly incapable of doing anything right, and his wife was all too happy to let him know all about it. After several harsh words back and forth, the two settled in to just ignoring each other for the balance of the journey.

Then, seated across the aisle from me, two young ladies grew nervous as our already delayed flight took longer and longer to get underway. Like me, they had a connecting flight to catch in Dallas, and were concerned about whether or not they would make it. Thankfully, both the flight attendant and another seasoned traveler were able to assure them that they would be fine. The walk between gates would take just a few moments, and the airline was coordinating between a host of delayed flights to be sure no one was left behind. Thus, they were able to be calm as they disembarked the plane.

On the final leg of my journey, I was seated next to a mother-daughter pair. Mom was in her nineties; and let me tell you, she was a hoot! I’m normally not the one to sit and visit with the passenger seated next to me; but this lady was just a delight. She and her daughter had just finished a ten-day cruise, and were headed home. I learned all about her life and her political career. It turns out that in her mid-eighties she had decided to run for the state legislature. When that run for office had not been successful, she ran for county commissioner. Again, it was an unsuccessful campaign; but it was obvious that she took great satisfaction in her efforts.

During lulls in our conversation, her daughter would ask her questions about how they were going to handle the logistics of getting to their homes. Like the young ladies on the previous flight, she was nervous about how the delays in their flights had affected their plans. She went back and forth several times about whether or not to spend the night with her mom before heading home. (I guess she lived somewhere outside Tulsa proper.) Mom, on the other hand, was having nothing to do with it. She was not going to allow the delays to rock her world. To every proposed option presented by her daughter, she merely said, “That sounds fine. Do whatever you think is best.”

Finally, once we had landed, and I had collected my checked bag, I walked out to the drive in front of the airport where Amanda was just rolling to a stop. As we drove home, I couldn’t help but think of how grateful I am for her influence on my life. Unlike the couple on my first flight, when we experience conflict, we don’t badger each other, or ignore the conflict. Instead, we have learned to work toward resolving conflict. At times when I am nervous about the future, she reminds me that all will be well. Like my new friend on the final flight, when faced with choosing a path of the future, Amanda assures me that she trusts me to do what’s best for our family.

One thing I have learned about positive thinking is that it is much easier when I’m around people who lift me up and encourage me. Such people are nowhere to be found in the drug world. When I was using drugs, that arguing couple lived inside my brain, constantly in conflict. It is a miserable life to know what is right, but to be incapable of doing right because of the tension between my moral compass and the drugs. Nor is there any assurance in that world. Encouragement is hard to find among a group of people to whom the future is a frightening proposition. As for trust, well, good luck finding someone to trust in a world of complete self-centeredness. Shoot, I couldn’t even trust myself.

Because of recovery, I no longer have to live that way. Today, I have learned to be positive about my future. Not only do I have people around me who encourage and trust me; but I also have the knowledge that I can live in God’s will for my life. I can be the person He intended me to be. As I learn to apply spiritual principles in all of my affairs, my positive thinking results in positive doing.

Have a remarkable day!

Forgiveness, Quantum Physics, and Open Zippers

I listen to a lot of podcasts as I drive around my sales territory. Not too long ago, I was listening to a podcast that took a turn into the world of physics. Specifically, the study of quantum physics. There was talk of entanglement theory, string theory, and concepts of how light and energy work.

My inner nerd was fascinated! Especially interesting was the description of how light can appear in two different forms at the same time. An experiment was described in which light in the form of photons will change its nature when observed. Apparently, in this simple experiment, when photons are measured, they suddenly change into waves instead. I know I am doing the whole crazy theory an injustice in my description, which is why, after recently finishing a novel I had been reading, I began reading a book on quantum physics for beginners. I want to know more about how such things could possibly be true of inanimate objects.

Could it be that they are not as inanimate as we like to think?

The notion of changing while under observation is not at all uncommon in nature. The rabbits in our back yard most definitely change their behavior as they walk past our back porch once they notice I’m there, and watching. Or, on a more personal level, if I find myself walking along and wondering whether or not my pants are zipped, I do my best to check when I think no one is looking. Such things are fairly normal responses to being observed.

When I drew forgiveness as my spiritual principle of the day, my mind turned to that experiment involving the observation of photons. For me, a big part of practicing forgiveness has been learned as a result of having experienced it. The extent to which I have received forgiveness from others is pretty overwhelming; and comes with responsibility. While those who have extended it to me may have no expectations attached to their forgiveness, I feel a responsibility to acknowledge it by a change of behavior. The more forgiveness I have received, the greater my motivation has become to act in a way that is worthy of it.

A big part of the process is simply to be genuine. That is, unlike the photons in that experiment, I cannot change only when people are watching me. I cannot be worthy of forgiveness while someone is watching, only to act in an unworthy manner when no one is there to see me acting out on a character defect. Fortunately, I have discovered that the more forgiveness I receive, the more motivated I have become to be consistent and genuine in the way I conduct myself. I do not depend on the observation of another to experience real change.

So, as I practice forgiveness in my life today, I need to remember the ways in which I have experienced the forgiveness of others. When I forgive, I must avoid the temptation to “keep a close eye” on the person I’ve claimed to forgive. I do not want to inspire that natural tendency to change while under observation. Instead, I want to forgive in the way that I’ve been forgiven. A way that inspires true change. The kind of change that allows a person to be consistent, whether or not someone else is looking.

Have a remarkable day!

Positive Thinking and Making Friends in Las Vegas

After double-checking the time and location, I headed out of my hotel room to catch a cab. Outside the meeting hall, a couple dozen vehicles were parked, and folks were circulating all around. So, after paying my driver, I hopped out, and greeted several people as I entered the building.

Upon entering, I quickly became aware that there were two meetings happening there. Two different fellowships, both looking for recovery. So, I looked for the symbol that indicated the meeting I was looking for, and headed through that door. There sat a lone individual, patiently waiting for others to arrive. It seemed that the rest of the crowd had entered Door Number 2.

Before long, the fellow’s wife came into the room, then a couple more men. As we visited before the meeting’s start-time, it became apparent that my fellow attendees were all newcomers in search of a meeting. For whatever reason, the person who was supposed to chair the meeting had not arrived, so there were no books or readings set out. Worst of all, there was no coffee. I’m not sure you can even call it a Twelve Step meeting if there isn’t coffee involved; but we would have to make due.

While my new friends were wondering out loud if there would be a meeting or not, I decided to get things rolling. I reminded them that all we needed for a meeting was two of us, so we were already doing better than we thought we were with five. I keep a link to the readings on my phone, so, after opening with a moment of silence, and praying the Serenity Prayer, our little group began the meeting, passing my phone from one addict to the next, with each of us reading our share.

Before long, a sixth addict came in. He had rushed after work to get there as fast as he could. A fellow with 17 years of clean time and recovery. I could tell that he was one of those addicts the rest of us come to depend on. The kind who knows how important it is to keep the doors open, and to share his experience, strength, and hope with others. When it was time to share, everyone looked to me to start things off. So, I shared about the fact that I had needed a meeting after the day I’d had.

It had been a good little while since I needed a meeting, rather than simply wanting to experience a meeting. I shared about how good things are happening in my life, and how excited about the future I am; but that even the positive emotions associated with good times can be difficult to experience. Add that to, well, the fact that this is Las Vegas, a place where anything goes, and I had convinced myself that the $15 for a cab ride was well worth the money. (The frugal part of me struggles to spend $15 for a short ride; so you know the struggle was real!)

I went on to share, however, that by the time we had opened in prayer, my spirit had been set at ease. My struggle to experience emotions was behind me already, just by taking time to visit with my new friends. I explained that our time together, brief though it may have been, had reminded me that God has a plan for me. It is a plan that is bigger than any sort of news, whether good or bad. His plan is simple for me to follow, as long as I set my eyes on practicing spiritual principles in all of my affairs. It includes sharing freely with other addicts seeking recovery; and by just showing up, I’d been given the opportunity to do just that!

After the meeting had ended, I exchanged hugs with all of my new friends. One fellow excitedly shared a picture on his phone of his newborn baby. The husband and wife, thanked me for getting things started, and helping them stay clean. Then, the fellow who had arrived late, insisted on giving me a ride back to my hotel. The two of us exchanged phone numbers before parting.

As I walked back to the hotel entrance, I realized that a heavy burden had lifted. Gone was any anxiety related to my emotions. Also gone was any reservation I might have had regarding being surrounded by any and every kind of vice imaginable. Instead, I experienced positive thoughts about my life today, and all of the ways recovery is working in it. I was reminded that sometimes, it is worth investing a little money in a cab ride to be reminded just how far I’ve come.

Have a remarkable day!

Commitment and Exercising My Recovery

It’s getting closer every day. Cycling season, that is.

There was a time, when in was in my forties, when I would go cycling anytime it was above fifty degrees. I’m afraid I’m no longer quite that committed. So, I’m longing for days in the sixties and seventies. Living in Tulsa, I know that those days are not so far away!

When I shared my excitement with Amanda, she had a simple request. “Please spend a few weeks on your trainer, and riding the stationary bicycles at your hotels before you go out riding for real.” I was admittedly hesitant to agree to this caveat. What if there is a nice day yet this month? What if I miss some great opportunities to be back out on the bike paths early, before they are jam-packed with every would be cyclist, skateboarder, and pedestrian?

No sooner had I thought these things, than I was reminded of the reason behind her request. It was just a little more than four years ago when I was nine miles into a ride, and I experienced my first heart attack. At the time, I thought it was my lungs complaining about the strain of the ride, so I just powered through until I was back home. A couple days later, when the pain returned, and we rushed to the hospital, I discovered the pain was not in my lungs. It was a couple of clogged arteries informing me that they were tired of my shenanigans.

Where my health is concerned, I am an old dog learning new tricks. My cardiologist has advised me to listen to my body when it’s trying to tell me something. My wisdom, little of it though there may be, has advised me to listen to my wife when she is trying to tell me something. So, I listened to Amanda, and agreed to some training before jumping back into any long distance rides. I’m not perfect though; I negotiated down from six weeks indoors to only five. I wonder if she’d have settled for four?

Yesterday afternoon, I had some time between the end of my meetings and the beginning of dinner. So, I went down to the fitness center of my hotel, and got in forty minutes on a stationary bike. It felt good to push myself a little. To make myself sweat, and feel just a little bit of burning in my lungs. (I know the difference now between that feeling and what my heart feels like during a heart attack, so please don’t worry Mom!)

Better than the feeling of exercising was the feeling that came from following through on my commitment to Amanda. Knowing what it is like to have little or no regard for the commitments I’ve made; a feeling that was ever-present in my active addiction, it feels borderline miraculous to follow through on commitments I make these days.

I found out the hard way how easy it is for me to walk away from commitments when I’m using drugs. Sometimes, even with a few years clean, I still have a fleeting thought about using. That diseased part of my brain tells me that it would surely be ok to do it again just this once. It is at such times that practicing commitment in things like my wife’s request that I cycle indoors for a few weeks, make the biggest difference in my recovery. Because I’ve practiced commitment in other areas not related to drug abuse, I am able to take a breath, clear my mind, and remember the commitment I’ve made to myself and God to never use again.

Lord, thank you for giving me the strength to practice commitment. I know that as I do, I become more like the person You have called me to be. One who can be trusted, counted on, and who is most definitely going to…

Have a remarkable day!

Selflessness – My Walk Down Fremont Street

Yesterday afternoon, once I had settled into my hotel in Las Vegas, I opened an app I use for finding Twelve Step meetings, and was delighted to find that there was one less than a mile from here. So, with time to spare, I set out to walk to that meeting. The first leg of my journey took me down Fremont Street, which is an exciting part of the old city that has been revitalized. The street was filled with all sorts of people. There were both tourists and street performers. There’s lots of energy on Fremont Street.

Soon, it was time for me to veer off of that main thoroughfare, and onto a side street. It was amazing how much less activity there was on that street. Within a block or two, it seemed that I was in a different city altogether. Before long, it was time to take my next turn; but as I walked along, I realized that things suddenly appeared much less welcoming than they had been just a little way back. With each step I took, something inside me told me that continuing was maybe not the best idea I’ve ever had.

As I have grown in my recovery, I’ve learned to listen to that still small voice when it tries to get my attention. When it warns me that I’m headed down the wrong path, whether literally or figuratively, today I listen. Today I take action. So, I turned back around, and backtracked my path to Fremont Street and my hotel.

This morning, when I drew “Selflessness” as my spiritual principle of the day, my mind went back to yesterday’s walk. I realized as I thought about it, what a good metaphor my little outing had been for the kind of self-centeredness brought about by my drug abuse.

When I was using, my life became all about Fremont Street. What I sought was entertainment and distraction. I had trained myself to find my Fremont Street through the use of drugs; and to forget about how that drug abuse was affecting others. Early on, the most notable of people to point out how the drugs were affecting her, as well as me, was my ex-wife. Our relationship had been strained for some time by then, so ignoring her pleas came easily. So, I plunged deeper into drug abuse.

Once I discovered meth, which I call “My drug of no choice,” there was no leaving Fremont Street. Even the briefest of detours onto a side-street brought with it fear and anxiety. It was so much more convenient to stay in that place where distraction and entertainment reigned supreme. My own little Fremont Street of self-centered indulgence.

Thankfully, I no longer have to live that way. Once I was introduced to recovery through the Twelve Steps, I came to realize that Fremont Street was an illusion. No matter how brightly those lights, or how big the smiles were on the faces of the entertainers, it was all a lie. A lie that was killing me, and bringing pain to the people closest to me. In some cases, that pain was so great that by the time I decided to try and leave Fremont Street, many considered me a lost cause.

As much as I enjoyed walking about last night, I found myself back in the safety of my hotel room by 7:00. My day of travel had left me weary, and I wanted to have a good night’s sleep for today. I’m glad I ventured down some of those side streets yesterday, because they reminded me of how easy it is to get caught up in an illusion. The truth is, Las Vegas is a hard city. The bright lights and entertainers are a distraction, intended to blind visitors to the harsh reality of just how hard life is for many people here. I pray that today I would be able to practice selflessness, so that life’s distractions cannot suck me in, distracting me from people who need love and encouragement.

Have a remarkable day!

Forgiveness – Getting Rid of the Bats in My Brain

Several years ago, I lived across the street from a beautiful, 7,000 square foot home that sat overlooking several holes of a private country club. The elaborate home had been built to make a statement. Top of the line appliances, a media room with huge movie screen, and even a putting green in the walk-out basement. Outside, large decks overlooked the backyard. Topping everything off was a beautiful, red roof of ceramic tile.

That home had a secret though. Because corners had been cut on the original installation of the roof, each of those roofing tiles kept the elements out, while allowing bats to enter. At dusk, we could stand outside in our yard and watch as swarms of bats took flight. Eventually, a good number of them even found their way into the home’s attic, where large amounts of guano, A.K.A. bat droppings, accumulated over time.

Eventually, our neighbors could stand it no more. Where once lighting scented candles had effectively covered over the smell left behind by the bats, the house became uninhabitable one summer. Our neighbors retreated to their lake home for the season, having been told by the Department of Natural Resources that the specific bats living in their home were protected. Therefore, mating season would have to pass before anything could be done to eradicate the little creatures.

When crews were finally able to take action against the bats, the only remedy was to completely remove that beautiful tile roof, and replace it with something truly bat-proof. Otherwise, the bats would surely return, and the process would start all over again. So, workers dislodged tiles, large sections at a time. As they did, the disturbed bats would take flight, fleeing the area in favor of somewhere else to live.

Once all of the tiles and roofing materials had been removed, the attic was thoroughly cleaned and disinfected. All of that guano was removed; and along with it, the nasty odor it had produced. A new shingle roof went up in place of those old tiles. The bats were finally gone for good. The whole process, our neighbor shared, had cost them over $100,000. Money they would obviously have liked to spend elsewhere; but that was invested in the roofing project out of necessity. Otherwise, their lovely home would have been useless to them, or to anyone else.

One of the areas of my life that I’m addressing in my current round of step work is my tendency to hold onto resentments. When my sponsor asked me to list up to five things I wanted to work on, resentments were at the top of that list. I had gained enough self-awareness through working my first round of steps to know that I was still being haunted by grudges from my past. My spirit was like that tile roof, and the resentments, the bats.

Like those bats, some resentments had dug in so deeply that they were affecting every other area of my life. Multiple times each day, I would find myself triggered as a memory would arise, allowing the stench of resentment to permeate my spirit. Sometimes I could meditate, and get ahead of my emotions before they got out of control. Many times, however, those old emotions would get the better of me, and I would check out mentally. My spirit would have to escape to its own little lake home in the corner of my mind.

Right now, I am in the midst of applying the Fourth Step to the bats in my brain. It is a process that is much like ripping the old roof off of that house. My sponsor has me writing a question for each sentence in a book written by other addicts in the Twelve Step program I am part of; and then answering each question as it applies to the various areas I’m addressing. Every question I answer is like pulling off a section of that tile roof. I gain a little freedom as the bats fly away. It is a wonderful, freeing experience; but there is still the matter of all that guano.

That is where forgiveness comes into play. Just because I am able to drill down to the source of a resentment, and even look at the role I played in each situation that created it, doesn’t mean that the stench left behind simply goes away. I’ve tried giving lip service to forgiveness in the past; but have found it to be like those scented candles. It was just a temporary fix. An effort to make me feel better about unresolved, and unforgiven slights; both real and imagined.

Like cleaning all that guano out of our neighbor’s attic, applying forgiveness to old resentments is not an easy task. Part of me wants to fall back on the scented candle approach, and call it good. However, I know that if I want to find freedom in this area of life, then forgiveness must be liberally applied.

Ultimately, as I continue working through the remainder of the steps, a new roof will be installed over my spirit. I’m in no hurry to get the job done, because I want it to be done right. My goal is to leave no room for bats in my brain. In their place, I pray I will always find a spirit that is ready to forgive.

Have a remarkable day!

Consideration and Keeping My Eye on the Pie

“Hmmm, coconut cream pie. I better save some room.” That was my thought as I was escorted to my table at a restaurant last week. So, as I perused the menu, my mind kept dwelling on that pie. Steak? No, too heavy. Chicken? Definitely not… I don’t like restaurant chicken in any form. A salad? What am I, a rabbit???

Ah, there you are! Ribs!!! I love ribs, and they are the one thing I consistently mess up on my smoker. So, let’s see, a full slab? Again, too heavy. Half a slab? Maybe, but what about that piece of pie. Wait, what? They offer a quarter slab of ribs? Yes Please!

It turned out to be the perfect size meal. Rounded out with some baked beans and fries, and the four ribs I was served left me both satisfied, and with room left for that coconut cream pie.

Then the pie came. I’ve resolved myself to the fact that most restaurants are going to cheat on the crust. It is almost always one of those uniform looking crusts from the freezer section at the store. Bland, yet functional. So, imagine my delight when the pie came and it had an honest to goodness homemade crust. It was flaky, delicious, and beautifully random in its form. Obviously NOT one of those nasty freezer section pie crusts.

My experience in that restaurant reminds me of just how important it is to practice consideration. It had begun back in my hotel room, as I studied Google Maps for local restaurant options. Not only was this one highly rated, but it was also right next door the the church where the Twelve Step meeting I planned to attend was being held. I couldn’t ask for anything more convenient.

At that point, my only goal was a tasty meal. I had no intention of ordering dessert, yet when I saw my favorite pie on the chalkboard listing pies, consideration had to be given to my choice of entrées so that I would have room left after finishing. (I know I could just eat part of an entrée, and then have pie; but that takes self-control, and I am still very much working on that principle as it applies to food!)

One of the things I have learned about myself through the recovery process is that I am at my best when I am presented by good options. Further, it is helpful when, as part of considering those option, I have an ultimate goal in mind. This coming week, I am going to lean on my goals as I consider my options. I have a week-long business trip to Las Vegas this week. Talk about a city filled with bad options. I know from experience that I will be presented with opportunities to make poor choices.

As a recovering drug addict, I cannot even begin to believe that what happens in Vegas will stay in Vegas. No, for me, one bad choice will most definitely lead to another, and another, and then another. Bad choices that will follow me all the way back home to Tulsa.

So, in preparation for this trip, I have been practicing consideration. I’m pre-gaming for the trip. Planning on how I will spend my time, what recovery meetings may be available, and how I will remain accountable. Behind all of this consideration is a slice of coconut cream pie; or, in this case, the life I have built as a result of my recovery, and the relationship I enjoy today with God. I know from experience that good choices lead to more good choices. Thus, I pray that God would help me to practice consideration throughout the coming week. That with my eye on the pie, I will be able to seek His will for my life, and the power to carry it out.

Have a remarkable day!