Fellowship

When I was running and gunning, I can remember so many different times when I would be in a room full of people I had know all my life and feeling like I was all alone. I felt like there was a hole inside me that no amount of sex or drugs or rock and roll could fill. And I felt like none of the people in that room understood or even cared.

I have not felt that way for the last fourteen years. When I came into the rooms of AA fourteen years ago, I found a way of life that I can't imagine being without today. I found a fellowship of men and women who share their experience, strength and hope with each other that they may solve their common problem and help others to recover from alcoholism. Since that day, these men and women have seen me through the first stages of my recovery. They loved me until I learned to love myself. They saw me throught the death and passing of my mom when I was about five years sober. They were with me when I found and married the love of my life, a wonderful woman who is also in recovery. They were with me when my grandma passed away, when my niece died last year and they were there for me when my own daughter passed away last year.

Through all the joy, through all the sorrow, from New York to California and from Alaska to Texas, these men and women have been there for me. I have never felt alone. I have never been alone.

Amazing Grace

In one of my previous posts I talked about my new guitar and the "little miracle" that brought about its delivery. I can't remember being that excited about anything since I was a kid waiting for Christmas morning. And just for the record, my new baby is a Gibson, SJ-200 Custom. After I got it tuned up and played a chord on it...I was blown away. The sound was amazing.

As I sat there, new guitar in hand, I thought about what I should play for the first song on this guitar. It came to me like a thunderclap.

It was Amazing Grace.

Merriam-Webster defines amaze as "to fill with wonder", "astound". And grace as "unmerited divine assistance", "a virtue coming from God".

When my daughter Annette passed away last January, my brother Ben played Amazing Grace at her funeral. My brother Ben, who had just lost his own daughter four weeks before, did that for her and for me. It didn't hit me for some time just how much that song had touched me. That day, I just knew that Annette had passed through her "many dangers, toils and snares" and that she now had "a life of joy and peace" and would forevermore with the Lord.

I returned to Hayward, and started going to church on a regular basis at the Wesleyan Church. I heard Amazing Grace at church, Pastor Mark preached a sermon on Amazing Grace and talked about the movie by that name that had just come out. I went to a John Conlee concert (Rose Colored Glasses) and he sang Amazing Grace at the end of his performance. I went to an Oak Ridge Boys concert and they sang it too. It became a part of my Sunday morning routine to play Amazing Grace before we left for church. Amazing Grace became more and more a part of my life.

And the grace I have received, the "unmerited divine assistance" that has been mine for the receiving has been amazing. I found help and support in dealing with the grief of losing my daughter. And I found the strength to do it sober. Trust me, in the hours, days, weeks and months since Annette died, I have thought about being numb. I've thought about how nice it would be to bury my emotions and my feelings beneath an alcholic haze. "I once was lost, but now I'm found, was blind but now I see." God's Amazing Grace, that "unmerited divine assistance" has shown me that I once was lost in that haze, that I was blind to how I ran and hid from life. But now I see. I see that "I have used up my right to chemical peace of mind". I see that through my grief, I can share with someone else that there is "a virtue coming from God" out there for them too. They can't earn it, they don't have to do a single thing to get it. All they have to do is accept it.

I was barely able to get through Amazing Grace the first time I played it on my new guitar. My wife, my other daughter and my son-in-law were there. It was the first time I had seen Sarah and Brian since Annette's funeral. I was thinking about my brother Ben, who played Amazing Grace for us. He was in the hospital and was at that time fighting his own battle with grief and depression over the loss of his own daughter. It was almost more than I could handle. But I got through it. And I'm happy to report that Ben is out of the hospital and doing much better. I love you brother.

Every day I draw a sober breath is another blessing. Another day to receive "a virtue from God". Another day to receive that "unmerited divine assistance" that is there for me each and every day of my life. All I have to do is accept it.

Serenity

It's been a very interesting few weeks. There has been joy and sorrow, smooth sailing and rough patches, but the days have all been good days. Any day I wake up with the choice of whether or not to drink that day...it is a good day. I thank God every day He has granted me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change. It is that serenity that gives me calm in the midst of the storm. It gives me a choice today.

Little Miracles

I used to believe in miracles. I had read about them in the Bible after all. But I had never known anyone who had been raised from the dead. And though I certainly drank my share of wine, none of it, to the best of my knowledge had started out the day as water. None the less, I believed that kind of thing did happen, just not in my day and age and not to me.

Then I got sober. As a part of that process I turned my will and my life over to the care of a Higher Power, the God of my youth. The God who raised Lazarus from the dead, the God who turned water into wine, the God who became Man, who died and conquered death so that I could live.

When I turned my will and life over to Him, I underwent a spiritual awakening. I started to see His hand at work in my life on a daily basis. And I was amazed at the miracles that were happening in my life and had been even before I was able to see them. They weren't the Cecil B. DeMille kind, Charlton Heston wasn't turning his staff into a serpent or parting the Red Sea, but they were miracles all the same.

Here is the kind of "little miracle" that I'm talking about. My daughter and son-in-law flew in on Thursday for a visit and to pick up some furniture that we are not taking with us on our next move. The plan was for them to load up Friday and head back to NY on this morning. I had also been anxiously awaiting the arrival of a new guitar I bought on line last weekend. I had been tracking it all week and knew it had arrive in Minneapolis on Thursday at 3:30. So, Friday morning we get up and it's snowing, hard. My first thought is "this ought to be fun loading all this furniture in the snow". But I started my day as I always do, with a prayer and a desire that "Your will, not mine be done." After coffee, we all decided to head in to town for a little breakfast. I told my wife, "wait, what if my guitar shows up"? But it didn't get into the cities until 3:30 yesterday, surely it won't show up until this afternoon, so off we go. We decideded to go to Perkins for breakfast so I took an alternate route into town. On the way I told my wife, "I should have taken the main road into town in case I passed the FedEx truck on the way".

Now here comes my "little miracle".

Because I took the alternate route into town, I saw a FedEx truck at a business on the edge of town (that I would not have seen if I had taken the main road). I found the first driveway I could and turned around. By the time I got turned around, the FedEx truck was pulling out and he headed across the road into a residential neighborhood. He was out of sight before I could get back there to flag him down or follow him. Did I mention the snow that had been falling and how I thought that was such a bad stroke of luck to have to deal with all that rotten snow while loading furniture? Well, when I got to where I last saw the truck, there were the newest, freshest set of tire tracks to follow you could ever ask for. I followed them through this neighborhood, through numerous twists and turns right to the FedEx truck. I never would have been able to find him if not for the snow! And yes, he did have my guitar. I signed for it and tucked it safely away in the truck and then we all proceeded on to breakfast.

While we ate, the snow stopped. We went home and got everything loaded, without a single snowflake to hinder our progress. Then, after all the work was done, I finally got to open my guitar up and try it out. And oh, what a blessing. The first song I played was Amazing Grace, the song my brother played for my daughter Annette at her funeral. I talked to my brother who is in the hospital battling depression and received another of my "little miracles". He sounded so good, was taking an active part in his recovery and displayed an attitude that showed he was serious and dedicated to getting well. And my daughter and son-in-law were able to stay on an extra day!

Snow that was a hinderance was turned into a blessing. There was family to share a special a moment with. And my brother continued to show improvement in his fight to find his way in life.

Now I used to think this sort of thing just 'good luck' or mere coincidence. But no more. Today, I see these things with a new pair of glasses and I see the Hand of God working these "little miracles" in my life on a daily basis, all I have to do...is let Him.

Happy, Joyous and Free

The Internet is an amazing thing, and blogs by extension are amazing as well. In just a few simple mouse clicks you can go from Heaven to Hell and back again.

Being new to the world of blogs, I went to my profile and start exploring where some of my links would take me. In just two clicks I found the pastor of my church and a wonderful site full of encouragement and uplifting messages about the love God has for all His children. Two more clicks and I was back to my profile.

This time I tried my link to AA. Two clicks there and I was reading about a young person who was full of despair, full of pitiful and incomprehensible demoralization. This person wanted to know if the madness would ever end, would they ever be free of the insane urge to use heroin again. I left a couple of posts offering words of encouragement. I shared my experience, strength and hope and told this person that the madness would end and that they would be in my prayers.

I read some of the other comments to this person's blog. With one more click and I was at another site, this person talked of the futility of life. How life had little or no meaning. That the demons were really no different than the angels. I had to back click my way out of there...I didn't know what to say or if I should say anything at all.

I sat at my computer and stared at the screen, thinking about all the places the Internet would take me in just a few clicks of the mouse. It hit me that blogging really is a reflection of our society and the world as a whole. There were plenty of other links under AA that took me to the sites of people who embraced the whole concept of AA and recovery. People who believe, as I do, that my Higher Power created me to be happy, joyous and free. Again, it reflects what I have found to be true in recovery, and in life itself. That I get out of it just about what I put in to it. If I look for what's positive in my life, the positive increases. If I look for what's negative in my life, the negative increases.

Yesterday, my brother was admitted to the hospital suffering from clinical depression. Since the loss of his daughter almost one year ago, he has tried to fight the downward spiral he's found himself in, by himself. Yesterday, he took the first step, he admitted there was a problem and that his life was unmanageable, that he couldn't do it alone. I lost my oldest daughter just four weeks after his daughter died. I could have looked for the negative in his going to the hospital, if I were so inclined, and said, "that's just great, my brother has gone nuts and I suppose I'll be next." On the Internet that is inside my head, just a couple of mouse clicks will take me in any direction I let it, to Heaven or to Hell.

So for today, just for today, I will focus on what's positive in my life. Tomorrow I will take care of tomorrow. Today, I will be grateful to my Higher Power, God, for seeing my brother safely to the hospital. Today, I will be grateful for all the prayers and the support he has received on his site. Today, I will trust that God will do for him what he cannot do for himself. Today, I will believe that when he gets out of the hospital he will be able to live a life that is happy, joyous and free.

Will we ever forget our daughters or stop grieving their loss? Never. But can we live a life full of purpose, a life spent thinking more of others than of ourselves? A life that is happy, joyous and free? The choice is up to each of us individually. (And I'm not just talking about the two of us.)

I know which choice I will make for today.

God Bless you brother. Get well. Be happy, joyous and free.

I Am My Brother's Keeper

Halloween has come and gone and in keeping with the new Madison Avenue paradigm, the Christmas shopping season is now upon us. It used to be almost Thanksgiving before we were blitzed with ads, but check for yourself, the local WalMart, Target, what-have-you, they're all sure to have Christmas on display, just waiting for you and your plastic.

And though I deplore the coming commercialism the season brings, I love the reason for the season. And every Christmas season, I think back to my childhood and I remember the Christmas seal stamps and the mailings we would get from Boy's Town. In case you don't remember, there was always the picture of the two orphan boys, with one carrying the other and the caption below that read, "He ain't heavy, he's my brother."

I find myself thinking of those lines tonight as I write this because my brother, just two years older than I am, is battling depression and I find myself wishing I could put him on my shoulders and carry him a ways. "He ain't heavy, he's my brother." A year ago this past December, my brother lost a daughter in an accidental death, she was just 27. One month later, I lost my oldest daughter to a sudden asthma attack, she was only 31 and left two small sons behind. Since that time there have been other family members and close friends of ours who have been called home. It has been a very rough 18 months or so. I don't know why depression has overtaken my brother and not me. Don't get me wrong, there have been waves of grief that I thought would never pass. Waves so strong that I thought surely they would drown me. My brother and I talk often, even though we are miles apart. I know he has a strong faith in God and in the life to come after this veil of tears has passed, as do I. I am so grateful for the love and support I found in my church. I know that that has helped to strengthen my faith in a way I never thought possible. Is my faith that much stronger than his? I think not. Is it that simple? I think not. I won't pretend to understand clinical depression or what causes it. I do believe that that is what my brother is fighting and if thats true, then faith has nothing to do with the root cause, but it has a lot to do with the battle against it.

So, since I can't put you on my shoulders brother, I will put you in God's Hands. I can't carry you, but He can, and He will. And if you think you ain't heavy 'cause you're my brother, you're as light as a feather in our Father's Hands. So there I will leave you and keep you and your family in my prayers. In that way, I will be my brother's keeper.