Brick by Brick
A flatbed truck full of brand new bricks passed in front of the loft this morning. I noticed yesterday evening that there were several areas along the three- or four-block stretch of walkway where old, uneven bricks had been torn out.
Having stubbed my toe and stumbled over cattiwampus bricks (that’s a Mom description that means askew), I’m grateful for the installation of a smoother walkway.
Seeing the bricks and knowing they’ll be placed to evenly connect one area to another, sends me on a time travel back nearly 20 years.
In my early days of sobriety, as I was literally counting the days as they added up, I was not praying so well. I remember feeling guilty for feeling good yet I didn’t know how to adequately express my gratitude to the God that I didn’t really understand. I worried about my lack of understanding around the God thing.
My solution was to build a brick road to God.
Each night, after maintaining sobriety for that day, I visualized placing a brick along a pathway that would eventually connect with God. I didn’t know how many bricks that would take but days passed and I found myself placing the 23rd, 42nd, 65th and up into triple digits.
My theory was similar to what the bricklayers will do here–by laying one brick down by another and then adding another, both sides will eventually join. I intuitively knew that if I put enough bricks into place, day by day, brick by brick, God and I would eventually hook up.
I can’t remember how many bricks were needed for that to happen. At some point I lost count. But I found what mattered.
I really need the God of my understanding today. Mom has been gone for four weeks today and I am grateful for God’s presence. I can feel it in the sunshine and rainbows and cat purrs.
I feel God’s presence in the smile of a stranger, an energetic encounter with a colleague and a sweet note from a friend.
Today, God’s presence feels like Mom is with me too and my mental picture of us skipping across the brick walkway, like we used to do when I was a little girl, is a happy one.



In July of 2009, I had an epiphany. For about a month prior, I was emotionally distraught, increasingly depressed and having serious thoughts of drinking again (after 18 years of sobriety).
I struggled to wrap my arms around what could possibly be wrong with me. I had all the trappings of a good life, one others would love to emulate--great job, dream house, traveling for a living, a life mate . . . the list goes on. 





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