Archive for October, 2010

Josh and Me

Josh who?  Josh Hamilton, the tattooed Texas Rangers centerfielder, who hit a solo home run in Game 3 of the World Series now being played on hallowed ground in Arlington, Texas.  I am hoarse from screaming and my shoulder is a little sore from waving the rally towel. All worth it for my newly adopted team.

From Nolan Ryan (who I used to watch pitch) and Ron Washington down to 22-year-old Nefti Feliz who shut down A-Rod and those damn Yankees and who wrapped up the Rangers first Series win by pitching a lightening striking 9th inning in Game 3, these guys are classy and professional and such little boys playing the dream games of their lives.

Props too to Mitch Moreland for his three-run shot, but it’s Josh I love.  I wore his T-shirt to the game.  Well, not his shirt, but it did have his name on the back, like about 50,000 other fans.

Josh could easily attain hero status among baseball fans for his Phoenix-like rise from the depths of addiction to play on one of the grandest stages in all of sports.  But to me, Josh is simply one example of the promise that recovery from addiction holds.  When he put down the drugs and surrendered to their destructiveness in his life and in the lives of those who love him, he created the opportunity to get his life back.

With a little luck, a whole bunch of hard work and the infinite grace of his higher power, Josh got his life back in a Texas-size way.  While most of us don’t get to experience that kind of fame and fortune once we surrender to our own beasts, we do get to experience Josh’s sense of satisfaction for a sober life well lived.

Josh also knows that to keep his precious gift of sobriety, he has to give it away.  My organization, The Partnership at Drugfree.org (drugfree.org), receives the benefit of his giving.  Josh blogs for us and shares his inspirational story of recovery.  On a side note, we also partner with Major League Baseball Charities to deliver Play Healthy (drugfree.org/playhealthy), a comprehensive education campaign around performance enhancing drugs.  It was incredibly cool to see our banners stream across the LED screen at Rangers Ballpark and then to see our crumbling Statue PSA on the stadium big screen. 

Josh gets doused with ginger ale instead of champagne after championship games.  He looms large in the spotlight and is adored by many, including this baseball fan.

But I guarantee you, that at some point last night, in a quiet and alone space, Josh also took the opportunity to humbly and honestly give thankful praise to the god of his understanding.  Minus the locker room camaraderie, the glare of the media lights and the roar of the fans, Josh was just Josh, a grateful recoverying addict. 

Josh and me.  We share the disease of addiction.  The thread that binds us, in fact, binds all of us, is our conscious awareness of what it means to play our individual games of life.

Ultimately, winning or losing is either exultation or disappointment.  But how we show up to play our game each day is the ticket to whether we truly win or lose.

Dusty Coffee Cups

At a meeting last Sunday, I stepped out the ladies room and lingered at the announcement board, reading about upcoming spiritually-themed conferences.  One could spend every weekend participating in these events, and indeed many do.  I know that when I attend retreats or 12-step conferences, I always grow through reminders of how I used to live.  There’s nothing quite like the language of the heart.

As I stood there reading, my eyes wandered to the peg board wall of coffee mugs, a prerequisite for any meeting hall.  Practically all the pegs held a stained mug, some of which fastidious group members had stuffed with a paper towel, presumably after cleaning out the inside.

Then it hit me.  Many, if not most of those cups were covered in a light coat of dust.  Their owners had obviously not sipped coffee from them in quite some time.

A 12-step member not using his or her mug at a meeting could mean she’s off coffee (a really weird concept), or maybe using a Styrofoam cup.  But it more likely means she’s not even there.

That thought makes me sad.  Over the years–and even recently–I have been that person, the infrequent attender.

When I’m not in meetings, I can’t hear long-timers say things like:

“I might as well be drunk.”

“Remember the Golden Rule:  When doing an inventory, it’s best to compare your present with where you’ve come from, not to where you think you should be going.”

“We are all fish out of water.  God is the ocean in which we should throw ourselves.”

Plus, if I’m not going to meetings, how can I do the white glove test on all those coffee cups?

Priorities 1 Through 1,000

Everything is a priority and everything cannot be a priority.  There is no one other than me (read: EGO) making myself crazy for not completing the millions of tasks on my to-do list. 

Earlier this week, when my dad commented about my workday being complete, I laughed out loud.  I said, “not really, but I’m stopping.”  He wanted to know if I had checked everything off my list for the day.  Not hardly, because for every item scratched through, two or more are added.  Can anyone relate?

Remember the days when we actually finished work at the end of the day?  I’ve worked from a home office for over 12 years and I’m still not good at walking away from my work.  Often I have to force myself to stop, or to take a break.  Just one more call, one more email, one more detail, because all of it should have been done a week ago or maybe last month.

My ego has me believing the “should have” and the “I need to” thoughts.  Should have written that report.  I need to finish my overdue time sheet, schedule next week’s appointments, book the next two trips, send a card, pay a bill, the list goes on ad nauseam.  My ego is slick when it comes to perpetually playing the catch-up game–and is merciless about stoking the flames of self-importance.

Here’s my major takeaway after yet another week of exhausting intensity–my only controllable priority is praying for knowledge of God’s will for me and the power to carry it out.  In spite of my ego’s convincing arguments, all else can wait until that one particular priority has been met.  Each day.  Every day. 

Scheduling prayer and meditation time–writing it on the damnable list if necessary–is my only hope for remaining sane amid life’s insanity.  I emphasis the “my” because I only know what works for me. 

Ironically, when I began writing B Here Today five months ago, I thought I’d write fairly exclusively about the minutiae of daily living because from everything I’ve heard over the years, those are the details that are most likely to cause me to drink again.  I’m not ready to discount the theory but I find it interesting that there has been some pretty major stuff go down in the last five months–stuff way bigger than daily minutiae.  And I’ve stayed sober, not as a conscious effort, but more likely because of the prayer and meditation thing.

I kind of like being sober.  So P & M will continue to be Priority #1 on my daily list.

All That Jazz(y)

This is a picture-perfect morning.  Writing on the balcony, Jazzy in my lap (practicing her acceptance of the street noises), World Market’s caramel latte coffee, the sun on my legs and a beautiful Saturday morning laid out before me.  I am blessed.

I read earlier that Jesus referred to four types of love, the most commonly known–and my favorite–being agape love.  Agape is Greek for God’s all-encompassing love.

I think of agape love and this little dog lying on my lap.  We know nothing of her past prior to her rescue by the saintly people at HART (Humane Animal Rescue Team) but it can’t be good.  She cowers frequently, loud and sudden noises send her running for cover.  I watch her though, in the three weeks we’ve had her, grow a little less timid each day.

Jazzy, and all the dogs I’ve loved, possess agape love.  As I observe her familiarizing herself with her surroundings and growing more comfortable with her urban home, I think of how easy she makes adjusting look.  But then I realize that her level of comfort is made easier by her trust in her higher power, in her two moms.  She relies on us to guide her, to lead her, to feed her and to play with her.

Sounds like my higher power.  That kind of inner trust and belief is but a breath away from becoming an outer decision.  Dogs have an intuitive ability to live their lives easily from the inside out.

Have Faith in the Sun

Some mornings really feel like new days.  This particular morning, after a tearful, soul-searching night, is like the freshness of a rain-drenched backyard.  The sun shines through elm and maple leaves as they drip the remnants of a downpour.  As if to speed the process, a breath of breeze shakes the foliage causing a cascading mini-rain.

The sun shines stronger and if one looks closely, the trees appear to sigh with relief in letting go the weight of all the water.  Murmurs of gratitude may even be heard as they gulp the sun and settle into their groundedness.