Hope and a Very Special Penny

On family road trips, a familiar sound would fill our car as my brother, John, looked through roll after roll of coins in search of treasure. We would stop at small town banks along whatever road we were traveling, where John would buy a couple hundred dollars worth of coins. He would buy half-dollars, quarters, and dimes in search of the old ones made of silver. Rolls of pennies were bought in hopes of finding old wheat pennies.

The mother of all finds, the one that really kept him searching through thousands of pennies, was a very specific one. It was the 1909 VDB S. It was such a rare coin that back in the 1970’s it was worth well over two hundred dollars.

It was the three letters, VDB, that set this penny apart. They were the initials of the engraver who designed the wheat penny for the mint in San Francisco (ergo the “S”). He came close at least once. It was on a trip to visit our grandparents in West Virginia, and he had found a penny on which the “1909” and the “S” were clearly visible. Alas, even after examining the penny under our great grandfather’s old microscope, there was no sign of the “VDB”.

Undeterred, John kept looking. He was driven by hope. Hope that was based on the fact that somewhere out there was a penny waiting to be found. With every roll of pennies unwrapped, he increased the odds that he would be the one to find it.

Hope can be such a strong motivating force in life. Back then, for John, the hope of finding silver, or a plain old wheat penny, or even the highly coveted 1909 VDB S was all John needed to continue his search.

In light of such memories, I find myself asking what fuels my hope. What is my 1909 VDB S?

On the one hand, my hope is fueled by the examples that were set for me when I was young. Examples set by my parents, brother, and other family and friends. They gave me hope back then, and still give me hope now, that by simply doing the next right thing in life, I can find both serenity and fulfillment.

On the other hand, I draw hope from the other recovering drug addicts in my life. As I watch others live out their recovery, they offer me a kind of hope I cannot find in the examples from my youth, because addiction is not something I saw in my early years. Just as most people never considered that there might be treasure in simple rolls of coins, I had no idea that something like recovery for drug addicts even existed.

That night that Amanda and I first met online, I might have admitted to myself that drugs were tearing my life apart, but I was certainly not ready to face the fact that I am an addict. However, as the two of us chatted back and forth, and she opened up about how the Twelve Steps and recovery were changing her life, that first glimmer of hope began to shine in my spirit. Though I kept my own drug abuse a secret from her at first, I wanted her to keep talking about spiritual principles, and how her life was being transformed.

It wasn’t long before we were on the path toward recovery together. We’ve unwrapped a lot of life’s coins since then, and we’ve found a lot of treasure. Like so many other addicts before us, we have discovered life’s 1909 VDB S wheat penny. Though no where as rare or hard to find as that penny, it is of even greater value. We are driven by the hope that we can know God’s will for our lives, and that we have the power to carry it out. All the hope we need to continue the search.

Have a remarkable day!

Hope on a Rope

Years ago, when I was much younger and braver, I went rappelling down a cliff in Southern Illinois. Steve, the leader of our little expedition, directed a fellow named Frank and me as we each tied off our lines around different oak trees. The trees were the old kind… the kind you cannot wrap your arms around.

“We always tie off on two different anchors, that way if one gives way, there is still the second one to count on.” Great care was taken as we each tied off our lines. Specific knots had to be tied, and those had to be tied in a specific manner. Everything was designed to make our time rappelling as safe as possible.

Safety was especially important to me on that day because my wife (now my ex-wife) was on the expedition with us, and she was pregnant with our first child. At five-months pregnant, her doctor had given her the go-ahead to rappel. So you can be sure I followed Steve’s instructions to the tee. I also made sure Frank was paying close attention.

Everyone in our group had a great time that day. Neither of those oak trees so much as budged an inch. Nor did either of our tie-offs give way under the stress of our weight. The day was a complete success.

Practicing the spiritual principle of hope is all good and well, but it does not happen in a vacuum. In any situation requiring hope, the question will be the same. “In who or what will I place my hope?” That day at the top of that cliff, I knew that Steve had supervised groups people rappelling dozens of times. I knew that Frank had helped set up rappelling lines several times before. I even knew that Steve would double-check our work before sending the first person over the cliff’s edge.

In other words, I was placing my hope in something that people and a process dedicated to safety. In trees that had been establishing deep roots over the course of decades, and ropes that were rated for several times the weight they would ever be required to bear.

When I began my recovery journey, my hope was much thinner than that day we went rappelling. My hope deficit was based in part on the fact that I felt completely unworthy of anything nice happening in my life. How could I possibly hope that recovery would work for someone so morally bankrupt? Any hope I had was borrowed from other recovering addicts as they assured me that if I kept coming back, I would experience change for the better.

The rope of recovery, I soon discovered, consisted of prayer and meditation. It was tied to God, Who, like those old oak trees, was completely dependable and trustworthy. Working the steps with my sponsor was like walking over that cliff. It was a totally new experience, and required courage on my part, and complete trust in that rope and the trees.

The experience was so exhilarating that when I reached the bottom of the cliff, I quickly made the trek back to the top, ready to go again. It is the same with working the steps. I continue to place my hope in them, and in the effort I put into applying the spiritual principles they reveal in my life.

Have a remarkable day!

Hope is Perennial

I have a confession to make. Around two years ago, we planted our front flower beds with some perennial plants. Then, last spring, as one of the plants began to rise back up out of the ground, I sprayed it with weed killer. I mistook it for a weed, and did a very thorough job of killing it.

This fact crossed my mind this morning as I sit in our front room, watching light from the sun slowly appear outside our window. On the other side of the window sits another style of perennial. One that was easily recognizable as a desirable plan rather than a weed; thus avoiding my weed killer spraying spree last spring.

All of these thoughts came together as I contemplated today’s spiritual principle – Hope.

As I sat, meditating on all that my eyes were taking in, and the memories those sights stirred, it occurred to me that hope is perennial. In fact, it is my personal belief that God created the universe with hope built into the designs. Night and day come in regular intervals that are predictable. So, as the sun sets in the western sky, and darkness settles, I can turn to the east, finding hope in the fact that it will be seen there again before long… right on schedule.

I find hope in trees too. Even in the dead of winter, when leaves have all fallen, and trees look dead, all I need to do is try to break off a healthy limb, and life will be revealed. Life that tells me those leaves will return.

The ability to know such things on a conscious level is one of the key differences between people and all other living creatures. A squirrel buries nuts instinctively, but does not have the capacity to understand the complexities of the seasons. On the other hand, I can access memories that go all the way back to my childhood to remind me that even after the longest and coldest of winters, spring will come.

Likewise, I can access memories of the very worst of times, and understand that being stuck in such times is not my fate. I am given hope that I can break the cycles of the worst times, and thus find relief.

It is those cycles that make total abstinence from any mood changing or mind altering substance is so vital for me. Because of how the disease of addiction affects my life, any drug use is like spraying weed killer on my hope.

They say that in our active addiction we became animalistic in how we lived. For me, that animalistic level was one in which the future became meaningless. Long nights would still turn to day, but it was of no consequence, because I was living in spiritual darkness. The drugs cut me off from being able to sense God’s desire to be active in my life. What I had thought would be exciting experimental use became a long winter without relief.

Thankfully, unlike my plants that fell victim to my weed killer, I found a way out of that endless winter. Recovery became my journey out of the darkness and back into the light. As I worked the Twelve Steps with my sponsor, I found hope. Hope that, by seeking God’s will for my life, and the power to carry it out, I would find life once again.

With God’s help, I broke the stagnation of active addiction. I am no longer trapped in an endless winter. Troubles and difficulties still come, but even in the worst of such times, I can look ahead with hope; because God’s design is for winter to give way to spring.

Have a remarkable day!

Hope and God’s Power to Restore My Mind

Something very cool happened yesterday morning. I had just finished writing about my spiritual principle of the day, and was looking for a graphic to use for the cover page, I chose an image from a tv commercial from the early 1960’s. It was cartoon image of a train engineer holding a box of Good & Plenty. The image was in black & white… that’s how old it was.

Suddenly, I remembered why I had insisted on Good & Plenty on the train ride Mom, John, and I took when I was not much more than a toddler. When I saw it, I could remember seeing that commercial play on the old black and white tv we had back in the apartment we lived in in an old schoolhouse outside of town. I’m sure my young, impressionable mind believed that Good & Plenty was the must-have treat for train rides.

This morning, when I drew “Hope” as my spiritual principle of the day, I realized just how old that memory is. It was buried deep inside my brain, just waiting for something to trigger it. Something as simple as an image of a long-forgotten commercial pitching candy to kids.

Finding hope in a memory like that one may seem strange to a lot of folks. I mean, it’s just a memory. No big deal, right?

The thing is, when I was brand new in recovery, one of the scariest realizations I had to face was the damage drugs had done to my mind. So much of my life had become clouded by their influence. Drawing on such memories was sketchy at best, and combined with challenges I faced in the area of critical thinking, I worried that my mind would never recover.

My sponsor at the time, when I confided in him about my concerns, simply told me to keep working. That it might take years, but eventually I would be able to look back and realize the progress I had made. He was right. As I worked through the Twelve Steps, not only was some sanity restored, but also the memories from my past.

That is why something as mundane as remembering an old tv commercial still brings hope. It reminds me of how far God has brought me, and encourages me to realize that He still has provided room for me to grow. So, I’ll keep on working on my recovery, and keep on hoping for bigger and better things in the future.

Have a remarkable day!

Hope, Staying Clean and Remaining Faithful

Six years ago today, Amanda and I got married in the middle of a bridge known as the Center of the Universe here in Tulsa. What a hot day that was! Despite the fact that we got an early start with our vows, the temperatures were in the mid-nineties. We were all soaked in perspiration before all was said and done.

It would be tempting to look back over the past six years and forget about the struggles we’ve faced. Our life as a family today is so vibrant and healthy. Yet we know it is important to remember the trials too. Legal issues to be settled with my ex. A custody battle faced to demonstrate we could provide Shaun with a loving, healthy home. Death, job loss… I am sure I’m missing something.

Not only has our marriage thrived during these times, but Amanda and I have both faced these challenges and stayed clean!

Last night, Amanda and I were sitting on the couch talking about our marriage. She asked me a very serious question. She wanted to know why I stopped using drugs and a lifestyle of philandering that went with them. It was an honest question, especially given how serious the struggle was to give up both when we first met.

The capitalist in me wishes I had an easy answer to her question. If I could I would bottle that stuff up and make a fortune. I would run an infomercial on tv and sell bottles for 5 easy payments of only $29.99.

Of course, that is not possible, because what keeps me clean can not be put in a bottle. Neither can what keeps me faithful to Amanda. That’s because recovery has an expiration date. I have not defeated addiction, or the lifestyle that comes with it. Instead, the disease of addiction has been arrested. Arrested just for today.

To some, this might sound discouraging. To me, it is the ultimate sign of hope. When I set my course each day to live within God’s will, the disease of addiction loses its hold on me for that day. Not just drugs, but also the character defects that ultimately led me to using for the first time.

Yes, I want to stay clean. Yes, I want to be faithful. The problem is that I wanted these things even during the worst of my time in active addiction. It is not a matter of what I want. It is a matter of who God has helped me become; and for whatever reason, He has chosen the Twelve Steps as my means for fulfilling His purpose in my life each day.

So, I celebrate this day with hope. The kind of hope that reminds me that I never have to use drug again; just for today. Hope that as long as Amanda and I each continue to work on ourselves, and work on our relationship together, we can face whatever might try to challenge us.

Have a remarkable day!

Faith from a Sliver of Hope

We are wrapping up our family vacation today. After breakfast, the three of us will load the car, and head back home. We’ve had a great time in Colorado Springs, but being back home again sounds really good!

From chasing tumbleweeds, to surviving a six-hour concert, and even driving to the top of Pike’s Peak; this trip has been filled with adventures. The kind of adventures that I feared were all behind me when I began my recovery journey a little over seven years ago.

Back then, I kept hearing that I needed to have faith that life could get better. Faith that I could actually stop using and lose the desire to use. Faith that I would find a new way of life if I just kept coming back. I needed to have faith in the Twelve Steps, in the recovery fellowship, and in God.

“Faith in God? Oh that’s rich. Don’t you know how thoroughly I’ve rebelled against Him? If you did, you would know, just like I do, that God has no interest in helping me.”

Though I don’t think I ever spoke those words out loud, I know that they were in my head anytime God was mentioned. Anytime faith was mentioned. In my mind, there was no taking God out of any faith equation. So, how could I possibly experience faith again?

My first acts of faith were real baby steps. I began by having faith that maybe I was wrong, and that there was a sliver of hope that God had not written me off. That sliver of hope was all God needed me to have. That sliver of hope soon turned to faith in God, and faith in my ability to experience a spiritual awakening. When I began turning my will and my life over to Him, I began experiencing that new way of life.

I know firsthand how hard it can be to find faith in the face of hopelessness. If that is where you are, please don’t give up. Instead, allow yourself that sliver of hope. Believe that maybe, just maybe, God will help you defy the odds and find a new way of life. It can and will happen.

Have a remarkable day!

Hope Hugs

Have you ever received an email from a Nigerian prince? Ever bought a lottery ticket, absolutely certain that you would win that billion dollar jackpot? What about slot machines? Surely you’ve dreamt to spinning and winning big.

There are a lot of things in life that try to manipulate us through empty promises. Just a few weeks ago, while in Las Vegas, I will confess that I put a $10 bill into a slot machine. Five plays later I walked away $10 poorer. My contribution to those beautiful casinos.

Sometimes, false offers of hope are pretty obvious. That Nigerian prince thing was pretty easy to see through. Same with lottery tickets; they can be fun, especially when the jackpot reaches record highs; but I don’t think anyone every truly expects to win. Sure, somebody does, but in my experience, it’s always somebody else.

I’ve even seen firsthand the effects of a church that makes promises on behalf of God that are, in actuality, empty and devoid of any real hope. “If you will only pray harder, and have more faith, God will bring that healing you are seeking for a loved one.” Or, “If you eat this diet that’s described in the Bible, God will radically change your life!” Then there is my old favorite, “The more money you give, the more blessing you will receive.”

This last category is the worst of them all. I’ve bought into these manipulative lies about God in the past; but instead of finding hope, I have only learned the hard way that God is no Nigerian prince.

This week, however, I’ve found a true source of hope in the most unlikely of places. I’m in Sunflower County, Mississippi; a place with the dubious honor of having the highest poverty rate in America. The poverty rate is actually twice that of Appalachia. Just let that sink in for a moment. Twice the poverty rate.

Back in 2018, a man named George filled out a simple, one page form with half-a-dozen questions on it. It was an application to receive help fixing up his home. It needed a new roof, new kitchen cabinets, and new bathrooms. This week, I’m here with a group of students who are helping make all that happen through a local non-profit called Delta Grace.

I think George was taken aback yesterday when, upon meeting him in his front yard, the first thing I did was to offer him a hug. Let’s face it, old white dudes are not exactly lining up to hug folks of color in this neck of the woods. I like short lines though, so George got a couple more hugs from me before the day was over!

As much as I enjoyed hugging George, and hearing him tell the story of how he and his wife, along with other members of the community, helped build their home back in the 1990’s, what I enjoyed most was being part of bringing that seed of hope, planted back in 2018 to life. The students and adults on this trip are here to serve in whatever capacity is needed. There are no strings attached to what we are doing this week. We are simply here offering a hug to George and his home. It is a hug that, I hope, reflects the love God has for George, and the over 200 other Georges in the community whose homes have been hugged by God through the ministry of Delta Grace.

It is said that hope is one of the spiritual principles that we can actually give to others. In my recovery from drug addiction, I’ve received a lot of hugs of hope from God. Each time I attend a meeting, work my way through one of the Twelve Steps, or find a way to be of service, I feel God hugging me. With each of those hugs comes hope in the knowledge that I never have to use drugs again; and that I can continue to enjoy the new way of life I have found.

Have a remarkable day!

Hope, Leaves, Snow, and My Winter Wonderland

Over the past couple of days, I gathered all of the leaves that had fallen onto the grass in our backyard. While leaf removal has been an ongoing project in the front yard since early fall, the backyard had largely been neglected. Thus, there was a lot of work to be done out there.

Yesterday afternoon, Amanda asked me why it was so important to remove the leaves back there. After all, nobody sees them but us. It’s not like the front yard, where there seems to be a competition between me and my neighbors to see who can keep our yards the most leaf-free possible.

So, I explained to her that by removing the leaves from the yard, I hoped to give the grass the best possible chance to grow in the spring. That answer is technically correct; but it is not the only reason that I like to remove the leaves from our yard. Even in the front yard, friendly competition among neighbors is secondary to my true reason for removing leaves so regularly. My primary motivation is the hope for snow.

Unlike Northwest Indiana, where I grew up, Tulsa does not get much snow during the year. Usually what little snow we do get comes in the form of light amounts of an inch or less, which usually melts away pretty quickly after falling. Any leaves on the grass therefore, poke through, reminding me of just how little snow there really is. For haters of snow, this would be a good thing. I love snow though, so for me, it is a not-so-friendly reminder that only a small amount has fallen.

On the other hand, without leaves on the ground, one inch of snow might as well be a foot. Suddenly, even a small dusting makes me feel like I am in a winter wonderland!

Of course, I know that this is only an illusion. Any “Winter Wonderland” in Tulsa is a figment of my imagination. Without any winter sports like skiing or snowmobiling available, what snow we do get is more of an inconvenience than anything. Still, this illusion is harmless, so I’m going to let myself hold onto it for now.

If I am being honest with myself, I realize that during the worst days of my addiction, I was caught up in a serious illusion. It was one that came in stages. Like steps leading down to a dungeon, each stage led me to a darker place. Though at first, using meth made me feel super-human, it wasn’t long before I had descended those steps into the darkest of places, where I was using simply in order to survive each day. Even the snowiest of days had lost any wonder or appeal back then. Everything in life had become a hopeless pursuit of that super-human feeling that refused to return.

Recovery is like removing the leaves from my life. When I first arrived here, my life had become like our backyard. Leaves were so thick that they threatened all potential for my future life. Having accumulated throughout the course of my active addiction, it was this thick blanket of leaves that needed to be dealt with first. Getting rid of the drugs would not be enough. I needed to work the Twelve Steps with my sponsor in order to bag them up and drag them to the curb. It was hard work that had to be done if I wanted any hope for my future.

Today, my recovery is more like the front yard. Leaves still fall. Drugs can sometimes feel like a viable option. I can forget what descending those steps into my personal dungeon felt like. So, I remain vigilant, removing leaves as they fall. Instead of ignoring life’s challenges, I face them head-on. As I do, I discover that hope once again. It is a hope that is not at all an illusion. On the contrary, it is a hope that is real. A hope that I know will allow me to…

Have a remarkable day!

Hope – I Just Wanted to Go Home

My first night of college was terrible. I don’t think I have ever admitted it to anyone before now; but that first night, alone in my dorm room, I felt truly alone. Mom and Dad had dropped me off earlier in the day. After helping me unload, they had headed off on a new adventure of their own – life as empty-nesters! Meanwhile, there I was, lights turned out, listening to the goings-on of my dorm floor.

True, I could have been out in the hallway with the others, chitchatting the night away; but I was tired and lonely. For whatever reason, I chose to isolate rather than participate. It is a tendency that I now recognize as a side-effect of addiction. That same part of me that insists that the answer for life is to take or do something in an effort to feel better, was insisting on that night that the cure for my loneliness was more loneliness.

I so wanted my roommate to arrive. He had settled in before I ever arrived. He staked his claim on the desk, closet, and bed he wanted, then promptly returned home. As a sophomore, he had no need to be there for the week of freshman orientation. So, he was back home, enjoying a few final days with his girlfriend before being separated by the miles between Bloomington and their hometown.

Yes, night one of my college experience was awful. I wanted nothing more than to run back home. Back to the comfortable and familiar.

The next morning, I padded down to the communal bathroom, where I found myself among other freshmen who were just as lonely and frightened as I was. No, none of us admitted it; but our feelings were apparent in the way we were talking. Everyone was nervous. Nervous, that is, until our R.A., Jim came rolling into the bathroom. Half-naked, like the rest of us, Jim stood there introducing us to one another. It seemed he had an entire dossier on each of us. He knew where we were from, who our roommates were, and for some, even what majors they had declared.

I never would have thought that standing around in a men’s bathroom, wearing only a towel, would be the key to making me feel better about my decision to attend college. Yet there we were.

Yesterday, there was a marathon meeting at a local recovery clubhouse. It began on Christmas Eve, running all day, through the night, and to the end of Christmas Day. It was the place to go for addicts who “Either didn’t have family, or didn’t want to be around the family they had!” My first Christmas clean, that marathon meeting had been a lifeline. Holidays are hard for recovering addicts, and that first Christmas was especially hard. It was very much like that first night on campus so many years ago.

Attending that marathon meeting was much like standing in the bathroom on that first morning on campus. I felt half-naked, frightened, and alone. Instead of wanting to go back home, I wanted to turn back to the drugs that had protected me from such feelings. It would have been a wonderful alternative to that of experiencing what my life had become.

Instead of an R.A. named Jim, that first marathon meeting had people in attendance with years of recovery who were there to share their experience, strength, and hope with the rest of us. As they shared, it was as though they knew my story. I could relate so well to what they had to say. Thus, I was able to believe them when they reminded me that I never had to use drugs again. Not even on Christmas. Especially not on Christmas!

This year, we have had more family and friends around for the holidays than you could shake a stick at. The entire month of December seems to have been centered around gatherings of family and friends. Those old feelings of loneliness and wanting to escape had no room in my life this holiday season. Instead, it was a time filled with laughter and cheer. Also filled with the excited eyes of children as they opened the gifts we were able to provide. It was such a great season that Amanda and I kept proclaiming one thing after the next as a Christmas Miracle!

So, yesterday afternoon, when everything was quiet, I didn’t need a marathon meeting to help get me through the day clean. What I really needed was a nap. However, napping would have to wait; because Amanda and I headed back to that same clubhouse for the marathon meeting. We got to visit with friends, encourage newcomers, and offer hope to everyone else in the room. Just as everyone else in that room gave us hope.

These days, it is very seldom that I need a meeting. However, more often than not, I want a meeting. It is a desire founded in hope. The hope that I might just be able to share a little of what I have with another; and the hope that what I experience will lift my spirits in ways I didn’t even recognize to be needed at the moment.

I never felt scared and lonely again during my college experience, because there were others around me to give me hope. The same holds true in my recovery. Only now, I don’t just get hope from others. I have an abundance of hope… enough to share.

Have a remarkable day!

Hope in the Midst of Pain

I woke myself from a deep sleep with loud groaning from the pain. Pretty soon, Mom and Dad were awake too. The pain in my lower right abdomen was excruciating.

After only a few minutes, Mom and Dad had loaded me into the back seat of Dad’s car, and we were off to the ER. It was the middle of the night, and the place was almost empty. Thus, the staff was able to give me attention right away. It wasn’t long before a doctor was informing my parents that my appendix would have to be removed.

My friend Terry had had his appendix removed back in elementary school. I could remember him showing off the long scar that ran diagonally across his lower right abdomen. So, when I awoke and the surgeon explained that my scar was less than three inches long, and was along my beltline, I was definitely surprised. Apparently he used a different technique for removing the enflamed appendix.

Though tender for some time, it wasn’t long before I had all but forgotten that scar. Although Terry’s scar had some “cool factor” back in elementary school, my self-consciousness about my body would surely have made such a scar a source of embarrassment for me. So, I’m grateful for that doctor, and his more modern approach.

Yes indeed, the scar was all but forgotten; but the pain I experienced that night was not. I could not remember ever having been in so much pain before that it woke me from a deep sleep. In the months that followed, I would occasionally wake in the early morning hours, having dreamt that my appendix had returned, and needed to be removed all over again. It was a relief to wake, and discover that it had all been a dream.

When I drew “Hope” as my spiritual principle of the day, my initial reaction was not all sunshine and rainbows. Instead, my reaction was much like waking from my sleep, having relived the pain of an inflamed appendix.

As odd as that reaction to hope may seem, it is easy for me to identify the reasons behind it. Every addict I know has, like me, certain pains associated with our days of drug abuse that remain. Whether it is financial loss, public humiliation, a criminal record, or relationships that are seemingly forever severed; the pain is there. Even if the scars are barely noticeable in our lives, the painful memories behind those scars remains.

In light of such pain, it is easy to understand how being told to practice hope could become a burden. A cruel joke even.

Thankfully, because of recovery, I am not alone in my pain. Nor does that pain leave me without hope; because my pain is not unique. I have watched as other addicts overcome the burdens of their past as they seek God’s will for their lives. That is one of the greatest benefits of the fellowship that is part of recovery. I not only learn from the experience of those who came before me; but also get to see the way that hope has been fulfilled in their lives.

The deep abiding pain with which I deal most is that of a lost relationship. Not a day goes by without being reminded of the pain of that loss. It sneaks up on me, seemingly from out of nowhere, and opens a wound that refuses to heal. Sometimes, the memories are so fresh, it is as though it happened just yesterday; not several years ago.

The only relief for that pain comes in the hope that comes from others who have shared similar pain. Friends in recovery who have had relationships restored after even more than a decade. Friends who remind me that, rather than dwelling on the pain, I must continue allowing God to work in my life.

Hope does not promise that this relationship will one day be restored. Nor does it promise that the pain associated with it will ever go away. Hope does, however, remind me that I no longer need to be that person who left destruction in his wake. Instead, I can become a person worthy of good relationships; and a source of hope to others who are in pain. As long as I have hope, I can…

Have a remarkable day!