Today, all over the country, people will be gathering to give thanks for all the blessings in their lives. As I sit here this morning, listening to my wife in the kitchen making pies, I am thinking about all I have to be grateful for. The list is long and I won't go into great detail, but the list includes family, friends and not the least of all, my sobriety. Because without that, I wouldn't have any of the other things in my life today.
Yesterday, I went to the Sawyer County jail to visit a young man at the request of a family member from our church. He is currently a guest of Sawyer County as a direct result of his drinking. We visited for about an hour and he told me some of his story. I shared some of my experience, strength and hope with him. Toward the end of our visit, he made a comment about how much it sucked to be in jail at Thanksgiving. I told him to remember how much he had to be grateful for instead of thinking about how much he had to be down about. I told him about the funeral I attended a couple of weeks ago for a friend of mine from work. He was the same age as the young man I was visiting and he left a wife and four children behind. As bad as it is to have to spend Thanksgiving in jail, the young man I was visiting has other Thanksgivings to look forward to, the one who's funeral I attended does not.
As I got ready to leave yesterday, the young man said he would like to have me come back and visit with him again next week after he had done some reading from the 'Big Book' and I told him it would be my pleasure. As I think about these two young men, I can't help but think about how everything else in my life takes a back seat to my sobriety. Without it, I have no chance at anything else. So today, I give thanks for that.
Showing posts with label sobriety. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sobriety. Show all posts
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Saturday, November 17, 2007
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.
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.
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