Humility – Recognizing God’s Economy at Work in My Life

I recently purchased a new case for my iPad for work. The original one I had been using for over five and a half years went kaput, so I began my search for its replacement.

My intention was to simply buy the same model I had bought back then. Silly Kent. Don’t you know electronics change over time? Did you really think you would be able to open up your Amazon app, search for the purchase from way back when, and get the same exact thing?

Well, yeah, I did think that. Of course, I thought wrong.

When I hit the “Purchase Again” button, I was taken to a page showing a case that looked a lot like the original. Oh, but it wasn’t. This one had a fancy swivel so I can turn the screen all different directions. It also had a keyboard that was not just backlit, but with backlight colors that could be changed. It even has a mousepad built in.

Snazzy!

When it arrived, there was a white tab sticking out from one side. I naively thought that this was some sort of battery protection tab that needed to be used prior to using. So, I tried and tried to pull it out. The thing just would not budge.

Turns out it is a holder for an Apple Pencil. Unlike the pencils we could buy for a nickel back in elementary school from the supply closet, this one costs upwards of $120. I don’t think I’ll be needing one of those, thank you very much.

There is something else about this new case and keyboard. It cost less than the original. It has morphed over time, adding all these new and fancy features, yet I paid almost $20 less for this one than the original. As Yakov Smirnoff would say, “What a country!”

When asked to consider a life of humility, I can learn some lessons from this new case and keyboard. In the time since I purchased its predecessor, I have changed a lot too. I’ve gone from living in an apartment to a house. I’ve upgraded my car. My title at work has been upgraded too.

More importantly, my relationship with God has improved. I’ve grown closer to Him as I have strived to live in accordance with spiritual principles. I’ve also become a better husband and father. Not that I boast about myself for any of this. I boast about the power of the Twelve Steps to push me ever closer to God’s will. I boast in recovery, and its power to restore any addict and to help us become fully functional members of society.

Rules of economics help establish the value of this new gadget I’m typing on this morning. Its manufacturers knew the updates and upgrades that would be necessary to keep up with the competition. They also knew the price they could charge that would allow them to turn a profit without pricing themselves out of the market. It’s a sort of free-market humility in action.

Humility for me is similar. My value is found not in economics, but in the value God assigns to me. It is a humility that defies logic, because it makes me know that I was just as valuable to God when I was at the very lowest point of my addiction as I am today. Or, seen from a different perspective, I am no more valuable to God today than I was when I was at my very worst.

Just let that sink in, Kent.

I pray that God would help me to always acknowledge the value God has always placed in me. Lord, help me to never think that I am more valuable to you because of the things I have or the changes I’ve made in my behavior. At the same time, help me to humbly use all of the changes I’ve seen as a result of recovery to become more useful to you, and the people you love.

Have a remarkable day!

Unconditional Love and Empty Shelves

Three years ago, we all saw some strange things. I remember a trip to Costco during which there was a scramble for toilet paper. The store was wisely limiting customers to two large bundles of the stuff per membership. Of course some were trying to cheat. The stories of stores running out were making the headlines, and nobody wanted to be caught without.

The pasta aisle at our local supermarket was no better. Where there had once been row after row of pastas to choose from, now sat empty shelves. The only thing that remained was a box or two of some gluten free, vegan lasagna noodles. I guess nobody wants those things, even in a zombie apocalypse!

Oh, and eggs… my beautiful $.49 per dozen eggs at Aldi were suddenly over $4.00 per dozen. For weeks it was cheaper to buy the “expensive” eggs in the fancy cartons than to buy the normal everyday eggs. Eventually, even that changed. Then, every egg in the fridge became a precious commodity.

It is amazing what fear will do. It has the power to clear grocery shelves of their food. It has the power to make people fight over rolls of toilet paper. Shoot, fear motivated us to buy a cabinet to hold extra provisions, “just in case.” Provisions we are still working our way through. I guess they weren’t all that vital after all.

Each day, when I pray that God will show me how to live, His example of unconditional love is one of the most powerful signs of how I am to live. After rebelling so completely agains God and His plan for my life, all I had to do was turn around. There He was, fully stocked, fully accessible. I didn’t have to fight for His love. Nor did He withhold His best from me. His love was free, and abundant.

Practicing unconditional love means I do not hoard those things in life that I deem to be vital. Nor do I offer only those part of me that are like those sad lasagna noodles that nobody wants. I also cannot raise the price of my love beyond what others can pay. In fact, unconditional love is free.

I pray today that God would help me to live a life of unconditional love. Knowing that I do not have to fear somehow running out of love gives me confidence to do so.

Have a remarkable day!

Gratitude that Comes from Effort

By the time I sat down in my car, it had been a long day. I was in Kansas City to participated in a day-long open house event at a company with which I am affiliated. Most of the day was spent on my feet, so they were particularly fatigued. It had been a really good day, but one that had left me feeling ready to rest.

There was only one problem. I still had a long drive home ahead of me. Spending the next five hours behind the wheel of my car did not seem very appealing. If I chose to, I could easily have checked into a hotel for the night, and put off the drive until this morning. My manager would not question the expense… not even for a moment. Amanda would understand too. She is always concerned about my comfort and safety.

Instead, I decided to stick to my plan. I asked Google Maps to give me the best route home, and started to drive. My compromise was that I stopped for a leisurely meal at around the half-way point. It allowed my brain to rest, and gave me a bit more energy than I might have found from a burger and fries gobbled down while driving.

I arrived home at 9:15. First to greet me were our three dogs. They were excited to see me right up until the moment they realized I was not there to feed them. Oh well, they are dogs after all!

Next, Amanda told me how thrilled she was to have me home. She thought for sure I would be gone two nights, and was happy that I had put the extra effort into making the drive after such a long day.

Shaun was the last one to offer his input. “Kent, I’m really glad you are home too. The house just feels better when we are all together.”

All of this happened within the span of less than a minute after I had walked into the house. Yet, in that brief amount of time, I experienced the gratitude I had earned over the course of several hours of driving. Not gratitude from the dogs, Amanda, or Shaun; but gratitude for the effort I had made to get there. Gratitude for something that was seemingly so insignificant, yet had reminded me of what a beautiful life I have today.

When I first arrived in the rooms of recovery, I was exhausted from living a life that was controlled by drugs. My drug of no choice, meth, is one that really messes with the body, mind, and spirit. It would keep me awake for days at a time. It would trick me into seeing things that were not there. Worst of all, it was an effective form of self-medication for depression.

I say that the self-medicating aspect of the drug was the worst of all, because trying to stop using would bring that depression charging back into my spirit. Knowing that instant relief from depression was in that little glass pipe made using seem like my only choice. I chose a slow death over doing what I knew was right every time.

Every time, that is, except for the last time. It happened on December 1, 2016. My 55th birthday would become my clean date. The date on which I decided to stop avoiding the work recovery requires, and begin working the Twelve Steps with my sponsor.

It was like being behind the wheel of my car. I could choose to check out, and avoid the long-drive home; or choose to buckle down and make the drive that I knew would lead me to the serenity I saw in addicts who had chosen recovery.

Reaching that point of gratitude did not truly happen for me until I began the step-working process. It did not come overnight either. It took a good little while before I truly experienced the difference recovery makes. I stuck with it though, holding onto the promise of the new way of life that I would find by Step Twelve.

I’m grateful that I put the effort into last night’s drive home. I’m also grateful for the effort I put into my recovery. My life has been transformed – body, mind, and spirit. I live in the confidence that as long as I continue putting in the effort, my life will continue to give me reasons for gratitude.

Have a remarkable day!

Gratitude – My Key to Throwing Away my Wish Book

I’m part of the back-to-front generation. People who tend to thumb through printed material in the direction of the last page to the first; and it’s all Sears’ fault!

My business travels have me in the Kansas City area this morning, and there is an chill in the air. Not enough to keep me inside, but enough to remind me that fall has arrived. As a child, fall meant one thing – the Sears Christmas Wish Book. It had an expanded toy section in the back, which is why thumbing through it from back page to front became a thing for me.

Within those glossy color pages, a child could find anything and everything they could ever want. There was G.I. Joe, Hot Wheels, and all the other must have toys and games. From the day it arrived until it ended up in the trash sometime well after Christmas had passed, it was the most-read thing in the house. Well, at least for my brother John and me it was anyway.

A couple of things occur to me about that catalog, and all those toys. First of all, I don’t think I ever showed an appropriate amount of gratitude for Mom and Dad’s generosity during the holidays. John and I never wanted for much of anything. Except for a mini-bike. We always wanted a mini-bike; but Mom and Dad drew a line in the sand on that one. It’s a good thing too. John would have been just fine. I, on the other hand, would surely have crashed and burned on one.

So, Mom and Dad, I’m officially stating my thanks and gratitude for all the wish lists fulfilled, as well as for those that were not!

It’s one thing for a child to get all caught up in a wish list. It is another thing entirely for a grown adult to be constantly wishing for the things they do not have. After reaching the rock-bottom of my addiction, as the fog of drug abuse began to lift, I was like a child right after the year’s Wish Book had arrived. Instead of wishing for a G.I. Joe I was wistfully looking back on all the stuff I had acquired, the self-esteem I’d once had, and the status I had enjoyed.

Of course, those were nowhere to be found. I had either thrown them away, or walked away from them. Knowing it had been my doing didn’t make it any easier. I still wanted to blame others for my predicament.

It was about that time that my sponsor suggested I work on a gratitude list. Instead of focusing on the past, writing a gratitude list directed my focus to the present. Instead of thumbing through the Wish Book to list the things I wanted, I was creating my own list of things I already had.

Like most things in my recovery, the change came neither easily nor quickly. I was still guilty of pulling out my Wish Book, and mentally thumbing through the things it contained. In time, however, it grew less valuable to me. As it did, that gratitude list grew.

There are still times I catch myself thumbing through that old Wish Book in my mind. When I do, it doesn’t take long for me to realize that its pages are not as glossy and colorful as I once thought they were. I quickly realize that if I want glossy and colorful, all I need to do is look at my life today. Seen through the lens of gratitude, it is a life that is beyond my wildest imagination.

Have a remarkable day!

Kindness and the Yard Dog

In an open yard between buildings, behind a tall fence meant to keep strangers out, he sat. Dad told the story of how the dog who lived outside the building where his office was located in Shelby, Indiana had once been the family pet of the company’s owner. However, he told my brother John and me, children from the neighborhood had teased, taunted, and abused that once beloved pet, until it was now the vicious animal behind the fence.

“Stay back, boys. He bites.”

Have you ever hated someone you didn’t even know? Someone who was only a nameless, faceless individual? I have, and it happened when Dad told us about that dog’s abusers. I hadn’t even been around that many dogs by that age. Grandma Adams’ dog Cokie was probably the only one I had been exposed to much at all. I knew enough though to realized that dogs, on their own, shouldn’t act like this one.

So, with every visit to Dad’s office, and journey past that fenced-in area, my hatred for whoever had done this grew. Because of them, this dog was robbed of its family, and visa-versa. Also because of his abusers, any act of kindness on my part would likely be seen as an act of aggression. So, John and I obeyed our father. We stayed back, giving the poor animal its space.

If you ask me why I put up with our three rescues sleeping in our bed, I would give you all sorts of reasons. Deep down inside, though, there is likely a part of me that was forever affected by the unkindness shown to that yard dog back in Shelby, Indiana. It is likely the part of me that is drawn to rescuing dogs in the first place. I couldn’t show kindness back then, but I can today.

It may seem like an odd thing to write about a hatred from decades ago when considering the spiritual principle of kindness; but as I sat here meditating on it, I realized that it wasn’t really the dog’s antagonists I hated. Rather, it was their actions. I don’t have it in me to hate people; but I do sometimes hate the things people do. Lord knows I hate plenty of the things I’ve done. Particularly things done in my time of active drug addiction.

Last summer, as a group of us was serving the homeless community dinner near downtown Tulsa, there was a fellow there who was most definitely having a bad trip. For whatever reason, the security team that usually was on site had not made it that night, so security was left to those of us with the disposition to bring calm to a rocky situation. This fellow was our rocky situation of the night.

Out of over 300 people, this fellow had decided to try an pick a fight with someone twice his size. I’ve been around enough addicts in my time to know that this fellow was on some really bad dope. Meth that was poorly cooked, and was unleashing the kind of violence commonly associated with that particular drug. It’s the danger of having a thousand different people playing chemist, and adding their own “special sauce” to the recipe.

“Hi. My name’s Kent. Can I give you a hug?” I’d already given away dozens of hugs that night, so when I decided to try and intervene in the situation, it was the best approach I could think of.

To say the fellow was stunned would be an understatement. He cocked his head to the side, trying to figure out what the catch was. When all he saw was my smile, he gave in, “Sure, I’ll take a hug.” We stood in line together until he had his burger and chips. I offered to walk him to a table, but he said he preferred to eat alone in a grassy area by the bridge.

I hate drugs, and I hate drug addiction. I hate what they did to me. I hate the fact that despite knowing their affect on me, they can still sometimes seem appealing. I hate seeing the effect they have on people like my friend down at the bridge, and therefore the impact they have on our society.

Like the cruelty that put that yard dog behind the fence, I am cannot stop the fact that drug addiction is out there. Unlike that little boy standing in front of that fence, being warned to stay back because the dog will bite, I can offer something to the addicts I encounter. I can offer kindness. I can offer a hug to someone acting unloveable.

Despite sensing my mother’s worry as she reads this account, I know that I have been equipped for, and called to this expression of kindness by God. I cannot explain it, but in such moments, I do not fear society’s yard dogs. I know firsthand what a little kindness can do in the life of a drug addict. In my case, it only took a little kindness to encourage me to keep coming back to the Twelve Step meetings here in Tulsa. A little kindness to convince me to work the steps, and to live in accordance with spiritual principles. Sometimes it is all I have to share with someone else, hoping they will…

Have a remarkable day!

God-Centeredness and Caring about My Neighbor

My hometown hosts a parade each year on Labor Day. It’s always been a pretty big deal for the whole community. One year back in the early 1970’s one of the tv stations from Chicago actually sent a news crew to cover it.

Though today that may seem like a pretty common thing to see, at the time it was a really big deal. That’s because at that time the news channels in Chicago acted as though Indiana didn’t even exist. They were so focused on their own city that they completely forgot about their neighbors to the east.

So yes, it was a pretty big deal when they showed up!

While understanding this behavior out of a tv channel catering to advertisers, I don’t ever want to be guilty of such behavior. There’s a saying that points to the person who’s “So heavenly minded that they are of no earthly good.” That can be one of the risks of practicing God-Centeredness.

When I strive to be God-Centered I need to remember one of His most dominant character traits: God cares about people. Not just “People” as in the the whole human race; but people as individuals, Because God cares about people, I need to make that part of my day-to-day routine.

There is no room for me to act like Chicago, pretending my neighbors don’t exist. After all, the first step in demonstrating care for another person comes from acknowledging their presence. Lord, help me be more like you today. Help me care about my neighbors.

Have a remarkable day!

Tolerance and My Broken Guage

There is a rain gauge attached the our home’s sprinkler system. In theory, that gauge is supposed to detect the amount of rain we’ve recently received, and turn off the sprinklers when the yard is already saturated with water.

Last night, we had a real doozy of a storm here in Tulsa. It was one of those really good ones, with lightning and thunder everywhere. The heavy rains had the ground saturated, so my drive home from my Saturday night recovery meeting was a bit of adventure due to all the water trapped on city streets.

So, this morning I’m here on our back porch, waiting and wondering if that gauge will work. Experience tells me that it is a less-than-perfect device. I’m not quite sure what makes the difference from one storm to the next. All I know is that there have been plenty of times our sprinklers have turned on despite a downpour.

I know that I could spend the money to have someone come out and repair or replace it. Shoot, with a couple of YouTube videos I could probably replace it myself. On the list of projects that need to be addressed around our home, it just hasn’t risen to the level of being a necessity. I can, after all, walk to the garage and turn the system off manually if needed. It’s not that hard, at least not $150 worth of hard; the going rate for a sprinkler service call.

By May of 2016, after a little more than a year of abusing meth, any kind of gauge that may have once existed in my brain to tell me when enough was enough, was completely broken. I had withered to 145 pounds, looking quite frail on my 6’1” frame. Me teeth, though all still in my mouth, had begun to feel oddly numb and loose. I was hallucinating, paranoid, and had become very anti-social. All this, and I thought I was just fine.

On top of all of that, my relationships were all messed up too. I was separated from my wife of 30 years, my children were worried and angry, and my friends were all wondering what on earth was going on with me. Of course, I was in denial. I had myself convinced that I could stop anytime I wanted to. I just didn’t want to yet… no big deal. I was willing to tolerate pretty much anything in order to maintain my drug habit.

Then I was introduced to recovery, and everything began to change. I knew from what others were sharing in meetings that if I really wanted that gauge in my brain to begin working again, I needed to begin working the Twelve Steps with my sponsor; but I could not bring myself to. So, I had a series of relapses lasting anywhere from one to four days.

Each time, I would “Walk to the garage” and stop the drug abuse. My ability to do so only made the illusion of addiction worse. “If I can turn this off when needed, maybe I’m not an addict after all!” Yeah, that didn’t work out so well.

When I finally became willing (and emotionally able) to work the steps, I began to realize how broken my gauge was. Broken, and beyond repair. It turns out that there are no spare parts where my brain is concerned. So, for me there was one, and only one answer. Knowing my body will not tolerate drugs, I would have to practice compete abstinence.

Once my body was free of drugs, something beautiful began to happen. I began to learn what I can and cannot, should and should not tolerate. Yes, tolerance became possible when I stopped using drugs. As long as I stay clean and in recovery, I can continue to enjoy this new way of life.

Have a remarkable day!

Open-Mindedness to Live Like a Human Again

While Amanda is away at a ladies’ retreat for church this weekend, our three dogs are in crisis mode this morning. Beverly, Malibu, and Anna are all wondering where their human is.

Last night, when I announced it was time for bed, they all looked at me like I was from Mars. There was no way they were going to leave their posts in the kitchen. They would wait right there, huddled together on a couple of doggie beds, waiting for Amanda to come home.

This morning, after being fed, and coming outside for their morning journey to find “Just the right spot” to make a spot in our grass, they immediately wanted back inside. Once there, they made a bee-line to their beds. They are holding vigil. None of them can imagine a world without Amanda. She is the center of their universe.

I feel badly for our three girls. While Shaun and I can work with the fact that Amanda will be gone for only a couple of nights, they don’t have the ability to understand the concept. To us, she’s getting some much needed time with friends both new and old. To them, the world has turned upside down.

Completely unintentionally, our girls have painted a picture of what life without drugs seems like for an addict fresh in recovery. Those first hours clean are miserable. In the same way that the girls had no idea how dependent on Amanda they would someday be on that first trip home from the rescue, I’ve never met an addict who took that first hit understanding what they were getting into.

For some, the process of becoming mentally addicted takes time. For me, not so much. I knew I was enjoying the feeling of escape provided by the drugs way too much from that very first hit. This was especially true where meth was concerned. If I were a dog, then meth became my human in that very first moment. Very soon after that first hit, the addiction became both mental and physical.

I’m not a dog though, so instead of becoming my human, meth became my god. There was nothing I would not eventually sacrifice to pursue it. When it was gone, I was like those three dogs; lost, lonely, and wondering how I could ever go on without it.

That is why recovery through the Twelve Steps is so vitally important to me. Opening my eyes to see the value of allowing my life to be guided by spiritual principles gave me the ability to see God’s influence in my life again for the first time in ages. Practicing open-mindedness allowed me to see clearly how much I had sacrificed to the god of my addiction, and how much better my life could be if I lived for God instead.

Because of that open-mindedness that I experienced early in my recovery, I was able to begin living life again; instead of laying there curled up wondering how long I would have to wait to get high again. In active addiction, I was reduced to living like an animal. In recovery, I get to live like a child of God.

Have a remarkable day!

Responsibility – Reaching for the Wheel

Growing up, we kept around ten acres surrounding our house mowed. To do so, we had a small tractor with a mower behind it. Looking back, I’m guessing that mower was 48 inches wide, which is big enough for a lawnmower, but still meant it would take hours of work to get the job done.

When I was real little, I would sometimes ride with Dad as he mowed the grass. I would sit with my hands on the steering wheel, and imagine the day that I would be trusted with the responsibility of operating that tractor on my own. It would surely be glorious!

Dad was always very careful when I was on the tractor with him. There were large flat sections that I was allowed to ride along on. When it came time for him to cut the grass on the hills, either in front of or in back of our home, he would let me know it was time to get down. So, I would scramble down the cris-cross pattern on the tractor tire to the safety of the ground.

There were plenty of times when the tractor was sitting idle that I would climb aboard. I’d climb up the tire treads and sit in the tractor’s seat. Even though I could barely reach the wheel, I would grab ahold of it and pretend that I was all grown up and mowing the yard on my own.

Years later, on a particularly hot August afternoon, I would sit on that same tractor, cutting the grass, and wonder why I had been so anxious to be able to cut the grass. Five or six hours into the project, any glory had faded. Far from glamorous, mowing the yard was monotonous work. Work that my brother John and I would take turns being responsible for completing, so when it was my turn, I got it done.

It was common for me to feel like that little version of myself on the tractor with Dad when I first got clean. My senses had become dulled quickly by my drug abuse, and I had forgotten what a big place the world is. I had also forgotten how big responsibilities can seem.

For a long time, I had used drugs to insulate myself from the depression and anxiety I had about being in the world. When the drugs were gone, those issues came roaring back like a lion. In even the simplest of social settings, I felt like that little boy propped up on the tractor. Only this time, Dad was not the one driving. I was driving, and going down the steepest hill behind our house. It was terrifying.

Even writing about it right now stirs strong emotions. I was terrified of life. Terrified of what and who I had become.

One of the beautiful things about The Third Step Prayer is that when I ask God to take my will and my life, He does! As I worked through the Twelve Steps with my sponsor, I came to realize that I was trying to take on too much. In my effort to “Just get back to normal,” I was grasping for a steering wheel that was still well out of reach.

Though not being able to reach what I thought of as normal was frustrating at the time, I now look back on it as a blessing. God was protecting me from myself and my selfish ambition. Slowly, I began to accept that maybe that steering wheel was not God’s will for me at that time. So, I stopped straining for the things I thought I should be doing, and learned to find satisfaction in the things God was leading me to do.

I continue offering my will and my life to God at the start of each and every day. Not surprisingly, just as I eventually grew into the job of cutting our grass, I have grown into more responsibilities in life. In fact, those wheels I once strained to reach are way behind me now.

It turned out that God was not denying me the wheel of responsibility. Instead, He was preparing me for it, just like Dad did all those years ago. So, today, I practice responsibility be firmly holding onto the wheels God has put in front of me; and with a spirit that is open to the ones He has yet to reveal.

Have a remarkable day!

Open-Mindedness – A Product of My Imagination

For as long as I can remember, I’ve looked at inanimate objects and been able to see something else in them. I think the first time I did this was with the tail lights on my mom’s old car. It was a Lancer from the late 1950’s, and every time I saw those tail lights, they reminded me of my cousin Paul’s eyes.

Then there were the wood panel doors that covered the closet in my childhood bedroom. The pattern in the wood grain reminded me of an impala. No, not the car; but the deer-like animal. I swore there was an impala just waiting to jump out into my bedroom. That’s how real it looked.

Then there was the puffy white cloud that rolled by moments ago. In it I could see a tiny lamb. Its head and torso were plain as day. Then, I noticed its wings, sprouting out to make it look like a cherub. That is until a hole formed in the cloud, and suddenly I was staring down the barrel of a sawed-off shotgun.

I know that these are all products of my imagination. Car lights are not eyes. There is no impala stuck in the wood grain of those closet doors. Certainly, lambs do not morph into cherubs, and then into shotguns. That would be ridiculous!

Ridiculous or not, I do my best not to stifle my imagination. It has played a major role in my recovery from active drug addiction. My imagination has been the source of much of the open-mindedness I’ve needed to practice over the past seven years; allowing me to see things that are not yet there as though they are.

In those early days of recovery, I found that though I had once thrived when in a large crowd, I was now terrified. It helped to imagine myself being as comfortable as my first sponsor in such settings. He was never rattled. So, I tried to see myself as being like him, even when I was the furthest thing from comfortable.

At work, when I was terrified that my peers would discover the truth about my addiction, I tried to imagine finding acceptance from them. It was an exercise that ultimately led me to explain why I wasn’t going out to the bar with them after dinner. To reveal the truth about how 2015 and 2016 had been rock-bottom years for me. Not only did I experience acceptance, but also encouragement that lasts to this very day.

I could go on and on with examples. The point is that I have discovered my imagination is one of the keys to practicing open-mindedness. It allows me to be less concerned with how things are, and more open to how things can be. This is especially true when I seek God’s will for my life. As I do, His plans for me begin to take shape, and my future looks bright.

Have a remarkable day!