Surrender – This is War

The idea was never for one of us to get hurt. In fact, we almost never did. The boys in my neighborhood enjoyed all sorts of sports and games. Baseball, football, fishing, and war – those were our games of choice.

We would often build elaborate forts, or at least they seemed elaborate to a bunch of kids, and divide into teams for battle. Tall weeds would be plucked from the earth, and broken off to throw as spears. The bottom part would be used as grenades. The dirt clod at the bottom of the weed offered the perfect amount of weight to allow for the heaving back and forth of those grenades.

That was what got me. Danny, one of the other boys from our neighborhood and I were bored. It was just the two of us. Not really enough for a war, but we decided to make due. Dividing the area up that was overgrown with the perfect weeds, we took our sides, and began heaving spears and hand-grenades back and forth.

“Ha! Gotcha!!!” We would shout and carry on. I guess these days someone would call the police if they heard children carrying on the way we were that afternoon. In our neighborhood, back then in the early 70’s, such sounds were commonplace. Man did we have fun..

Then, Danny launched a grenade that caught me by complete surprise. It landed just above my right eye. Blood was EVERYWHERE. Typical of any kind of cut to the head, there was no hiding the fact that I had been hit. Danny was by my side in an instant, apologizing for his perfect aim.

I was not upset with Danny. It was all part of the game. What upset me was how I would explain the bloody mess that was my face to Mom. I think she often suspected the quasi-dangerous nature of our games, but this was sure to get her attention.

Worried that this might spell the end of our war games, I lied. My story was that I had been running and had fallen down onto the gravel road. So, our neighborhood war games continued.

Sorry, Mom…

Surrendering is hard. It was hard for me as a young boy. It remains hard for me today. It was hard even when I was bloodied by the game that had proven to be a bit too rough and dangerous. Lying proved to be much more convenient than the truth, because the truth would have brought an end to our war games. Games that I knew deep down needed to end, but was somehow unwilling to acknowledge as dangerous.

That grenade to the face is a handy metaphor for how the disease of addiction took control of my life. Using meth for the first time was supposed to be a game. Something recreational. No way would it ever take control of my life. No way would I get hurt, or have to lie about it; because I would use it once and never again.

My use escalated more quickly than that war game between Danny and me all those years ago. This time, though, I was not bloodied on the outside, my soul and spirit were bloodied; and I lied not only to my mom, but to everyone around me. Surrender didn’t just seem hard. Surrender seemed impossible.

It was impossible until I was introduced to recovery. It was in recovery that I was introduced to the Twelve Steps, and to the spiritual principles they reveal. Practicing those principles made recovery possible. Through the practicing the principles, not only did the war end, but the wounds began to heal, and the web of lies I had been spinning became unnecessary.

Surrender is still hard. That’s ok though, because I have discovered the key to my surrender. It is found in turning my will and my life over to God daily. When I surrender to Him, even though I don’t do so perfectly, He gives me the power I need to stop using, lose the desire to use, and find a new way of life.

Have a remarkable day!

Surrender and Sheriff Rudy

His name was Rudy. He was Sheriff in Lake County, Indiana back in the late seventies and early eighties. Rudy was the brother of a friend of the family, so his story was particularly impactful among my parents’ circle of friends.

Lake County, located in extreme Northwest Indiana, butts up against Lake Michigan, and Illinois. It is basically an extension of the Chicagoland area. Because of its proximity to Chicago, and the fact that crossing into Lake County meant crossing the state line; it became a hotbed of organized crime. A place where members of the mafia could retreat when the heat of the big city got too hot.

The mob influence was still very much alive in Lake County the day that the Indiana State Police came knocking at Rudy’s door. Well, not so much knocking, as barging through. They were there to serve Sheriff Rudy with a search warrant. One that included searching the small safe he kept in his office.

Inside that safe, among other things, there was a handgun with a silencer. That gun would ultimately be Rudy’s downfall, being linked to at least one murder. One mob hit. Rudy’s days of being sheriff were over. He was quickly assigned an inmate number. Not long after that, Rudy was assigned a new identity, and disappeared into the witness protection program.

Our family friend seldom heard from Rudy after that day.

It’s easy to point my boney finger at Rudy and tell myself that he got what he had coming to him. As my mother-in-law would say, “Play stupid games, get stupid prizes.” I mean, come on Rudy. Seriously? You are going to keep a gun used in a mob hit in a safe at your office??? Dumb. Dumb. Dumb.

Of course, if I give the story even a little thought, I come to realize that we all have our safes. Those places, whether physical, or in our minds, where we store our dirty little secrets. Or sometimes, our gigantic and filthy ones.

I remember all too well, the day when my safe was broken wide open for all the world to see. Looking back, I now know that it was a vital part of my recovery process. At the time, however, the pain was excruciating. I had opened my safe, allowing one person to see inside. It was someone I thought I could trust to keep its contents a secret. By nightfall, it seemed that every friend I had ever had knew what was inside my safe. Neighbors who had become friends over the years no longer saw me as the person they thought they had known. Instead, they saw me as a dangerous drug addict.

Even harder, a few days later I had to open my safe to members of my family. I was going to be disappearing into rehab for the better part of a month, and decided they needed to know where I would be. Despite their love and support, opening my safe to them was the worst feeling of my life. I truly wanted to disappear like Rudy had. Maybe that would ease the fear and pain that had come from learning the contents of my safe.

As though that initial exposure of my secrets wasn’t bad enough, over the coming months, I experienced a series of setbacks in my recovery. Relapses that would only last a few days, yet required a re-opening of my safe, and a fresh exposure of new secrets. With each new exposure of my secrets came an ever-increasing sense of guilt, shame, and self-loathing. That desire to disappear grew stronger and stronger.

By the last time my safe was opened, I had begun to see some positive changes in my life. I had begun a relationship with Amanda. I had a new circle of friends who believed in me, and wanted the best for me. On top of that, my relationship with my parents and my brother and his wife had grown stronger than it had been in years. I knew it was time for a serious change, lest I face losing everything all over again.

That is when I truly surrendered. I decided that the safe in which I had been keeping my secrets needed to be opened once and for all. That’s when I discovered that it had two combinations. The one I had been using only opened the safe long enough to allow brief glimpses of its contents. Like an old screen door that slams shut quickly, the door to my safe never stayed open long enough to discover all that lay inside.

The new combination I discovered came in the form of the Twelve Steps, and the spiritual principles found within them. It was only when I surrendered to the Step-working process, and the application of principles, that I found a way to keep the door to my safe open. The greater my surrender, the more those secret contents became known. Once known, they could be addressed. Pretty soon, I no longer wanted to disappear as Rudy had. Instead, I was learning how to become the person God had wanted me to be all along.

That safe door is still open. Its contents continue to be uncovered through the recovery process. I’ve cleared the drugs out of it, but work still remains. At the moment, that work includes uncovering old resentments. It also includes gaining a better understanding of my struggle with depression and anxiety.

My safe will never be completely empty. As long as I live, there will be contents within it that need to be addressed. However, today, because I surrendered to the recovery process, I no longer need to hide the contents of my safe as my dirty littles secrets. I have found a new way to live, and didn’t need to disappear in order to do so.

Have a remarkable day!

Surrender, Decisions, and Action

A little over two years ago and a half years ago, I had a couple of mild heart attacks. The first occurred about nine miles in to a bicycle ride. Since it was Thanksgiving weekend, and I had not been able to ride consistently due to cold weather, I wrote it off to soar lungs and indigestion.

Two days later, when the second one hit, I was in bed resting. There could be no doubt in my mind… this was something serious. So, Amanda rushed me to the hospital, where I was escorted in immediately. By the next afternoon, I was on the operating table, where my cardiologist began placing two stints in previously clogged arteries.

That, my friends, was a wake-up call. I decided then and there to get more exercise, eat right, and do whatever I could to stay healthy. I began eating fish twice a week like my cardiologist had suggested. I started going to the cardio rehab center at the hospital two or three times each week. I was doing everything right. By late spring, I had graduated from the cardio rehab program. They even gave me a nice little certificate.

“You have all the tools you need, Kent. All you need to do is keep eating right, exercise regularly, and take your meds every day.”

In the time since then, I have only managed to do one of those things consistently. I take my meds every night before bed. Those other two things? Well, you could say I relapsed in those areas. Those healthy eating habits slowly gave way to my appetite for red meat and sweets. Exercise has also been a struggle for me. My beloved bicycle has hung on the wall of our garage all summer. I’m sure it is feeling depressed by the way I’ve neglected it. (Of course my bicycle has feelings. Doesn’t yours???)

A couple of nights ago, I was in a recovery meeting where the topic was Step Three. “We made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him.” I knew before I shared that what I was about to say was anathema among my fellow recovering addicts, but it needed to be said. “This is the weakest of the twelve steps, and the most likely to bring about failure in a recovering addict’s program.”

A group of Twelve Step Fundamentalists seated in the corner of the room looked at me as though I were the spawn of the devil himself. Newcomers gasped at my audacity for having dared to criticize any part of the Twelve Step program. Even my friends slowly backed their chairs away, not wanting to risk being associated with such blasphemy.

Ok, so it wasn’t quite that bad. I did, however, ruffle some feathers. (Amanda will attest to the fact that I do this often in meetings.)

My beef with Step Three is that it only speaks of a decision. It does not include any action. I used the example of my own failed decision where my heart health is concerned. When my decision to do all of those things recommended by my cardiologist was not followed with the proper ongoing action, it became meaningless. I likened my medicine to meeting attendance. Sure, it’s something; but it is not powerful enough on its own to sustain a healthy program.

Immediately following that decision in Step Three comes the searching and fearless moral inventory demanded of Step Four. Something about the words “searching and fearless” seems to strike panic into the hearts of addicts. In a room filled with people who have been shot, stabbed, incarcerated, etc.; all in the name of feeding their addiction, it seems no one wants to take that close a look in the mirror. So great is the panic, too many stop after Step Three. It’s as though they somehow believe that their past will change if they just delay that inventory long enough.

So, pretty soon, the addict seeking recovery lets go of the “diet and exercise” of the program, and settles for only taking their “meds” regularly. For the vast majority, even the “meds”, or in other words meeting attendance, eventually falls by the wayside. Of course, the inevitable relapse occurs.

Tragically, relapse for such folks is often accompanied by a claim that “recovery just didn’t work for me.” They’ll say “Oh, I tried recovery, and even that God stuff; but I never saw any change. So, here I am.”

That is why I consider Step Three to be the weakest link in the chain of recovery. A decision, not followed by action, is just a dream. A dream that has virtually no hope of becoming a reality.

When I share in meetings, I do always try to bring hope into focus. The other night was no different. The hope I shared was that the action we need to take following our Step Three decision is quite simple. We must surrender, and work the following steps. Those Steps, when taken seriously, bring a decision to fruition. By Step Twelve, that decision is fully ripened into fruit that has changed our lives. “Having had a spiritual awakening…” Those words at the beginning of the final Step offer a promise. By working the steps in order, our decision will result in a life-changing spiritual awakening.

Have a remarkable day!

Surrender and Life WILL Get Better

When I sat down this morning, I noticed a couple of flashes of light out of the corner of my eye. A quick check of local radar confirmed my hunch. There is a tiny thunderstorm to our west.

A few minutes later, and the sky above our home began to transition from a pale, pre-dawn blue, to a combination of white and gray clouds. The thick warm air is also slowly changing. A breeze is bringing wisps of cooler air. Typical of the weather… it always seems to bring something good along with anything bad.

The weather offers me a handy illustration of how surrender works in my life. It seems that for some, the principle of surrender demands a sort of blindness. The newcomer will come into the rooms of recovery, weary and defeated by the drugs and the lifestyle found in active addiction. Immediately, they are told it is time to surrender.

“Ok, but what comes next? What will my future hold?” These were the kinds of questions I was asking when I first surrendered. Fortunately, I had a sponsor and friends who were not afraid to tell me the truth. “Oh Kent, you are in for a ride. It’ll probably get a whole lot worse before it gets any better. Hold on though, it will get better.”

“It will get better.” Now that’s something I could hold on to. My surrender was not without hope. Not without promise. Not only freedom from active addiction, but a better life too!

“But Kent, our literature says it promises freedom from active addiction. It doesn’t promise that things will get better. Don’t build false hope into your recovery message.” These are the people who, when asked if life will get better in recovery, feel the need to hedge their bets. “I don’t know about better, but it will get different.”

What kind of mamby-pamby answer is that? You mean to tell me you want me to dedicate myself to a new way of life that doesn’t promise things will eventually get better? No. Thank. You.

I do understand this type of answer. After all, the promise of a better life in recovery is nuanced. It’s embedded in Step Twelve, which begins “Having experienced a spiritual awakening…”. These words leave no room for doubt. Work the steps, and by the time you finish the first eleven, you will have experienced a spiritual awakening!

Now that’s something to get behind!

So why don’t you people share this good news? Why don’t we plainly tell the newcomer that life will get better?

I have two theories. First, there are some folks out there for whom the thought of a sponcee’s life getting better is threatening. Narcissistic folks who like to keep the people they sponsor on a tight leash. After all, if someone’s life gets better, it will be harder to control them. Harder to insist on that daily phone call that strikes the sponsor’s ego.

More common than the narcissist, is the addict who accumulates clean time, but not much recovery. They have not experienced a spiritual awakening because their surrender stopped an the point of admitting their powerlessness over addiction. For whatever reason, they refuse to surrender their will in favor of God’s; and thus, don’t experience the freedom that comes from applying spiritual principles to life.

“How can I promise things will get better if they haven’t gotten better for me?” It’s a valid question. I’m no expert, but if someone is in this position, perhaps sponsoring others is a bad idea.

Harsh? Yes it is. On the other hand, how can one expect to share what they do not have?

So, yes, surrendering in recovery is a lot like looking at the weather. There will be certain things that will be out of our control. However, that doesn’t mean that we cannot weather today’s storm, expecting sunshine tomorrow. This is because the weather, like life in recovery, always gets better… eventually.

Have a remarkable day!

Surrender the Dream Wedding for a Dream Marriage

It is not good for the man to be alone. – God

Today is my wedding anniversary. Four years ago today, Amanda and I said our vows in front of God, and a small gathering of family and friends.

As weddings go, ours was simple. The ceremony took place at a Tulsa landmark known as The Center of the Universe. After the “I do’s” had been said, we invited anyone who wished to join us down to the McAlester’s Deli where we had had our first date.

It was perfect! At least for the two of us.

In planning the wedding, I had at first thought we needed to rent an expensive venue, and have a formal sit-down dinner. Let’s throw in a live band, and some ice sculptures around the room. In my mind, Amanda deserved a dream wedding. The kind that would be remembered by all for its grandiosity.

I’m so grateful that she brought me back to my senses. My bride-to-be told me that what I had in mind was not her dream wedding. In fact, she didn’t want a dream wedding at all. She wanted something so much more… a dream marriage.

All in all, our wedding cost less that $300. Now, lest you think me to be a total cheapskate, I did get to splurge on the honeymoon. We spent a week at the Waldorf Astoria in Key West, Florida. There, Amanda’s every whim was catered to.

Even in that wonderful setting, we remained focused on building a dream marriage. My morning time of prayer and meditation continued as usual. We attended recovery meetings. Most of all, we talked. We were practicing the things we had learned both in counseling and in our twelve-step recovery program.

After returning home, the work on our dream marriage continued. There was more step work for us both. More therapy too. We had begun to walk on the same path months before, and our heart’s desire was to stay on that same path together. That is still our heart’s desire.

Remaining on that same path does not just happen. Amanda and I continue to put in the work on a daily basis to keep our relationship strong. Like our wedding, our relationship is pretty simple. We are honest with each other. We talk about our lives together, and how each of us is doing physically, emotionally, and spiritually.

Surrender plays an important role in our relationship. Just as I surrendered my lofty plans for our wedding, and she agreed to a honeymoon that was sometimes overwhelming; we surrender selfish desires for the betterment of our relationship.

The miraculous part of this process is that as we have learned to do so, the selfish parts of us diminish. Surrender draws us closer together, and brings our goals into alignment. We discover that this is especially true as each of us seeks God’s will for our lives individually. As we do, He brings us closer together, and keeps us on the same path.

That brings me back to my little quote from God. “It is not good for the man to be alone.” Amanda and I often joke about something I told her shortly after we met. I was going through an ugly divorce, and marrying again was the last thing I wanted to do.

“I’m just going to be a playboy. No more attachments. No more obligations. Definitely no more getting married!”

Looking back, I now see how ridiculous that notion was. Of course, it was also a notion fueled by drugs, so naturally it was destined to fail.

God made it clear to me that it “was not good for Kent to be alone.” At the same time, He introduced me to the woman who I would eventually marry. I surrendered Kent’s plan for God’s, and I could not be happier.

Happy Anniversary Babe!

Have a remarkable day!

Perseverance on the Sledding Hill

It was the winter of my fifth grade year. We had received several inches of snow, followed immediately by a good dose of freezing rain. What resulted was a sledding dream. I couldn’t wait to get back home from school!

My brother John was in 7th grade, which meant that his bus from the junior high would arrive later than mine. So, when I headed out to sled on that fresh layer of ice, I was by myself.

Mom had helped bundle my scrawny body as she usually did. Then she sent me out with a kiss on the cheek, and an admonition to be safe.

I was sliding everywhere as I struggled to break my sled free from its icy bonds. We had always stored our sleds standing up against the garage behind our home. They had never been iced in before, so I was surprised by how completely frozen in it was.

Eventually, I was able to free my sled from the ice, and headed toward the steepest part of the hill, located right behind our home. It didn’t take any effort to begin my trip down that hill. In fact, the lack of effort required should have warned me about what lay ahead.

We had all been down that hill dozens, if not hundreds of times. We could count on our trek ending by the time we were 25 or 30 feet past the bottoms of the hill. This time was different though. Very, very different.

My sled had flown down that hill. In no time, I was past the farthest point my sled had ever before reached. I could not see any stopping point as I continued like a bullet, head-first across the bottomland of our property. Head-first, right toward the barbed-wire fence separating our property from the woods on the other side.

The thought of hitting that fence caused me to panic. So, I threw all my strength into an effort to turn my sled. What happened next is something of a blur. Instead of turning, my body and sled began to tumble.

When I finally came to a stop, the sled was on top of me. It’s red steel runners left me beaten and bruised. After a moment, I slowly rose to my feet.

Wow! I’ve gotta do that again!!!

Whereas my trip down the hill had lasted only seconds, my trip back to the top seemed to take forever. Navigating that ice was difficult enough on level ground. As I approached the hill, it became impossible. Noting I did seemed to matter. I just kept falling as I would slide backwards.

Eventually, I made my way to the far south end our our property. The hill tapered off there to only a slight incline. Crawling up on my hands and knees, I finally was able to make my way back.

John was there by the time I made it. He had seen parts of my struggle, and had already formulated a plan. My next trip down the hill followed his first time down. I could see that the worries I had had about hitting the fence were unfounded, and this time, I glided smoothly to a stop.

When we arrived back at the base of the hill, John began carving steps into the ice and snow. He was enough bigger than I to be able to kick holes for foot-holds. If a kick didn’t do the trick, he used the steel front of his sled to break the ice.

Before long, we had our stairway completed. Time for more sledding. Before long, our backyard was filled with the children from our neighborhood. What followed were the absolute best, most memorable days of sledding ever in our neighborhood. Those conditions were never again repeated while I was growing up. I doubt they have been since.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but those days taught me some valuable lessons about perseverance. First, there comes a point in life when perseverance is the only option. By the time I had started down that hill there was no stopping. Nor could I stay down in the bottomland once I had found climbing the hill to be impossible. I had to get back up that hill. There was no other option.

Another lesson learned that day was that perseverance does not have to be a solo effort. In fact, in really tough situations, perseverance is best when shared with another. Someone else who can help guide the way, and lighten the load.

Then there is the benefit of perseverance. I cannot think of a time when I have struggled to persevere through a situation when the pay off wasn’t worth the effort. My most memorable, and satisfying accomplishments have come on the heals of hard work and dedication.

By the time I reached the end of my active addiction, I was beaten and bruised. If not physically, then certainly spiritually. For a good little while I really considered laying there at the bottoms of that hill. Why get up? Why try? It will hurt too much.

Trying to stop on my own was as futile as trying to climb that icy hill. No way was I going to make it. Only this time, there was no place where that hill tapered off. I was stuck.

Then help arrived. I had just met Amanda. She shared with me about the path she was on to find freedom from active addiction. She spoke of steps, and spiritual principles. She introduced me to others who were on that same path.

Some, like me, had barely even started. Others had years of experience on the path. They had taken those steps many times, and were actually eager to help. Just as John had so eagerly shown me how to get back up that hill so many years ago.

The result of perseverance in recovery has been similar to those sledding adventures years ago. Not only have drugs been removed from my life. I’ve also found a completely new way to live. One guided by spiritual principles, and in alignment with God’s will.

Have a remarkable day!

Surrender On Turkey Mountain

Turkey Mountain is a recreational area here in Tulsa. It’s a bit of a misnomer, because I doubt it qualifies as an actual mountain. However, as hills go in Oklahoma, it is a big one. Not to mention the fact that Turkey Hill would be a much less impressive name for it. So, I’ll let the folks at the Parks and Recreation department have this one.

Anyway, yesterday morning, I decided to ride my bicycle to Turkey Mountain. It was a beautiful, calm, sunny morning; and I was feeling really good. I was about 12 miles into my ride when I decided to go for it. I had ridden that route once before, and remembered just how beautiful it is as the bike path disappears into the woods.

I also remembered that there are a couple of very steep grades along the way. The kind that will leave both legs and lungs burning. The first of these grades is approximately 100 yards long. I’d made it about a third of the way up when I realized I’d had enough. So, I dismounted my bike, and walked to the top of that grade.

After riding a little distance further, I came to the second steep grade. It was much shorter than the first, but also steeper. This time, I dismounted my bike even closer to the bottom.

After walking to the top, I once again mounted my bicycle, and rode the rest of the way into the main area of the park. There, I found a boulder on which to sit and rest for a while. As I sat, something unexpected happened. A sense of accomplishment swept over me.

My expectation was that I would feel a bit guilty for having had to walk part of the way. Yet there I sat, feeling good about what I had accomplished. My focus was on the positive rather than the negative.

I actually felt good about having surrendered to Turkey Mountain!

If there is one thing I’ve learned in recovery, it is that there is no shame in surrendering. At least, that is, as long as surrender does not equal giving up.

How sad it would have been if, fifteen miles into my ride yesterday, I had approached those hills and simply decided to turn around. I could have allowed pride to get in my way, and convinced myself that going back from whence I came would be preferable to being seen walking my bike up a hill.

Truth be told, turning around at that point would have made my ride almost seven miles longer than it turned out to be. They would have been long, difficult miles, spent beating myself up over my stubbornness and pride.

Again, in recovery, there are times when turning back, quitting, seems appealing. Most such times are associated with emotions. Feeling my feelings, whether good or bad, can still be terribly uncomfortable. It would be easy to convince myself that quitting, by drowning emotions in my addiction, would be preferable.

It is at such times that I surrender to the recovery process, get off my bicycle, and walk through my emotions. Instead of quitting, I press on, knowing full well that turning around will be much more painful and humiliating in the end.

Today, by applying the steps and spiritual principles of recovery to my mountains of emotions, I am able to walk through them. I know that when I do, there will always be a place of rest on the other side. As well, I know that once I reach that place of rest, I’ll be able to look back with satisfaction, knowing that we do recover!

Have a remarkable day!

Acceptance and Traffic Cones

I think the traffic cone must be the state flower of Oklahoma. It seems as though it’s a flower that blooms year round here. No sooner does it stop blooming along one section of city street or highway, then boom, it appears along another!

Recently, traffic cones have been in full bloom at an intersection near our home. A much needed project to widen the streets in all directions has begun.

Along with the cones are some new rules. The speed limit has been dropped to 25 miles per hour. Also, there are no left turns allowed because of the effect they would have by clogging the flow of traffic.

We’re subscribers to an app designed to connect members of our neighborhood with one another. Last week, on that app, someone (I’ll call he Gwen (shhh… that’s her real name)) posted a rant about how the police were “having a hay day, issuing tickets left and right.” Her rant went on to talk about how bad the signage is, and how easy it is to miss the fact that no left turns are allowed.

In no time the post was filled with comments. To a person, everyone who commented was critical of Gwen’s position. It turns out, nobody agrees with Gwen. Or at least, none were willing to agree with her publicly. The signs are very clear. Impossible to miss even. Or, at least that is the opinion of commenters.

One even threw in a little bless your heart for Gwen. “Gwen, did you get a ticket?”

My hunch is that what Gwen, and others who have received tickets in the nearby garden of traffic cones needs, is not better signage. Nor is it a new prescription for her glasses. What Gwen needs is a little dose of acceptance.

Acceptance – I need to slow down as I drive through the work zone.

Acceptance – I need to plan my route differently to account for the fact that no left turns are allowed.

Acceptance – My time is not more valuable that that of other drivers or those construction workers.

Acceptance – This traffic cone garden is going to be here for a while. I better get used to it!

Ask any recovering addict, and they will tell you that acceptance plays an important role in recovery. Like the traffic cone garden near our neighborhood, my life in recovery has required a decent amount of change to what had been my normal routine.

Some of these opportunities to practice acceptance would seem obvious. Accepting the fact that I cannot use drugs successfully was obvious. However, accepting that alcohol is a drug, and that even a glass of my favorite wine would be off limits was a bit of a shocker at first.

Like Gwen complaining about the signage, I was certain that someone had made a mistake here. Surely this rule doesn’t apply to me. At some point I’m sure I’ll be able to bend that rule.

Oh, and then there was the infringement on my time that recovery brings. Attending one meeting a day takes almost two hours by the time I factor in drive time and socializing with friends. Then I need to take time on top of that to pray, meditate, read a little literature, and perhaps even work on a step? Who has the time for all that???

Fortunately, as with traffic cones, the reminders of the importance of my recovery generally come in clusters. For every objection to this new way of life, there are multiple reminders of how bad life with drugs became.

Even my beloved glass of wine came with traffic cones reminding me of the importance of complete abstinence. I could look back through the rear view mirror of my mind and see how a single glass of wine had led me down a dark and dangerous road. A road on which I obeyed none of the rules, and harmed a lot of people who got in my way.

A funny thing happens in traffic cone gardens. Eventually, I become accustomed to the changes they bring. I begin to adjust to the fact that I cannot make a left turn. I adjust to the lower speed, and leave home just a little earlier. I even begin to see that the other drivers and construction workers have value, so I’m even more attentive than usual.

It’s the same with recovery. As I have practiced acceptance, the changes recovery requires have simply become a part of the new Kent. I’ve gone beyond acceptance in some areas. Today, I embrace the changes recovery requires, because I benefit so much from them.

Have a remarkable day!

Surrender and Loose Wires

One of the features of our home that Amanda and I agree is among the best is our grill that is connected to the house’s natural gas. It’s so convenient to be able to simply turn a knob and light the fire. No need to ever worry about being out of charcoal, or low on propane.

There is only one thing about our grill that is inconvenient. There is a small button which, when pushed, is supposed to create a spark that will light the grill. We shouldn’t need matches or a lighter to start the flame. Yet, since the day we first tried to use the grill, that feature has not functioned properly. We’ve always needed a lighter to start the flame.

It’s really no big deal. We have, after all, purchased plenty of lighters from our local dollar store. In fact, it’s such a minor inconvenience that I’ve never even taken time to look for the possible cause of this malfunction.

Then, this morning, as though out of the blue, I glanced in the direction of the grill and noticed it. A small wire dangling from the bottom of the grill. The ignition wire, disconnected from its rightful place on our grill.

It would appear that I gave up too easily where that ignition button is concerned. I shrugged my shoulders a year or so ago, and said to myself, “Well, this is just the way it is.”

Those are three dangerously powerful words: I gave up.

In recovery, practicing surrender is vital. Without surrender, I would have remained perpetually lost to my addiction to drugs. Freedom would have continued to elude me had I not surrendered to the fact that I, on my own, am powerless over my addiction. I need help in fighting this battle. Help from a Power greater than myself.

Ironically, before beginning my recovery journey, I had several loose wires in my life. Things that either seemed like they might be wrong, or which obviously were wrong, that I simply accepted as my norm. Rather than trying to address these areas of life, I found ways to accommodate them.

I had given up on even trying to correct what I now call my defects of character. Before too long, things such as integrity became like that ignition button on my grill. I worked around my lack of integrity by contriving elaborate lies to cover any misdeeds.

That’s why it is important to me to remember that the principle of surrender is not synonymous with giving up. Surrendering in recovery doesn’t stop at acceptance of a character defect. In fact, through recovery, I actively seek out my character defects. Then, by practicing surrender, I am able to ask God to help me overcome them. To reconnect life’s loose wires.

It looks like I have a project for later on today. I’ll try to find where that wire is supposed to go, and reconnect it. I’ll also remember today to practice surrender by looking for more loose wires in my life, and seek God’s help in reconnecting them.

Have a remarkable day!

Surrender, Patio Furniture, and Toilets

Yesterday morning, I discovered that my right thumbprint was gone. That’s the one I use to unlock my iPhone, and the poor phone couldn’t see it well enough to identify me.

That thumbprint was missing because of a project I started yesterday morning. I was sanding down our patio furniture, preparing it to be repainted. Much to the tedious work had been done using my right thumb to guide the sandpaper. In the process, the outer layer of skin was slowly rubbed away.

The night before, Shaun and I had worked on a separate project. When our new floors were installed, the flooring installers had pulled the toilets from two of our downstairs bathrooms. Apparently, for liability reasons, they can pull the toilets, but they cannot reinstall them.

So, I announced to Shaun that he was going to learn how to install a toilet! Oh, boy, how exciting!!!

His first question to me was a very logical one. “Why do I need to know how to install a toilet?”

I answered his question with one of my own. “Why do you think I need to know how to install a toilet?”

That question really threw him. Though we’ve done our best to make him aware of the fact that our family isn’t rich, he does know that there isn’t much we want and don’t have. We are “comfortable,” and able to afford nice things. Even things like hiring a plumber.

So, I went on to explain to Shaun that hiring a plumber would not only have been expensive, but would also mean delaying getting our toilets back by several days at least. I assured him that he would see what an easy job it was, and would understand why doing it ourselves makes sense.

It’s the same with our patio furniture. We had actually budgeted for new furniture this year. The furniture we have was generously left behind by the previous owners of our home, yet was very worn. We had agreed to make it work for a year, and then replace it.

However, as Amanda and I shopped for something new, we kept coming back to the same conclusion. Our current set suits our needs just fine. So, instead of replacing it, we are giving it a fresh coat of paint, and new cushions.

Between these two projects, our family will probably save around $1,000. Not bad for a couple of DIY experiences. Not only that, but they are also great opportunities to teach Shaun about the concept of investing. He is learning first hand, the value of investing time and energy now, in order to experience something even better in the future.

In recovery, the principle of surrender is really all about investing. When think of it in these terms, surrender is no longer seen as sacrifice. Nor is it held in a negative light. Rather, surrender is seen in its truest form. It is an investment in my future.

When I accept the fact that I cannot use drugs successfully, an opportunity for surrender immediately presents itself. I can choose to invest in my future by surrendering drug abuse in exchange for recovery, or I can continue to use. The choice is mine. Invest, or don’t invest.

For most of us, the choice eventually becomes clear. We reach a point of desperation that makes us realize that surrender, or investment, is preferable over continuing down the same path. The path that ultimately leads to jails, institutions, and death.

Today, when I practice surrender, I do not see it as a negative force in life. Instead, I see surrender in its truest form. Surrender is an investment in my future.

Have a remarkable day!