When wrestling for life, the battle itself matters not


Today we heard the story of how Jacob wrestled with an Angel. At one point, he asks the Angel his name, to which came the response “Why is it that you ask my name?”  But he didn’t get an answer.  Instead, Jacob was blessed. In other words, he won the battle and his life was spared. In fact, Jacob even names the place Peniel, which means “It is because I saw God face to face, and yet my life was spared.”

Pastor Mike drew parallels to the struggles we all have in life. It doesn’t really matter what the battle is – we all have our “bad” – we all have our issues. For me, it’s been addiction. For others, it’s depression, or financial bankruptcy. But, in reality, it doesn’t matter what the problem is. That’s why Jacob doesn’t get an answer to his question – the Angel’s name didn’t matter. The battle itself didn’t matter. What matters is how we face our struggles. Do we face them with hope and determination? If so, then like Jacob, we are blessed.

When it comes to my recovery, the battle with the Angel analogy plays out a little differently for me. I find my victory and peace by surrendering my will each day — not by some show of force or strength.  But the connection for me in the story was more about the commonality in our battles – the “namelessness of it all.”  Like they say in the rooms, look for the similarities not the differences.  I am not better than or worse than. I am special, I’m just not unique.  I am right sized. We all have our battles to fight.  In that I find comfort and connection and support.

I also reflect upon my own journey where there were moments of utter despair and hopelessness where life didn’t seem worth living. Thoughts of suicide played out in my mind. The day I hit bottom and entered treatment, I had even come close to taking my own life — the closest I had ever come in my mind to carrying out a plan. But in a moment of hope, I found the strength to make a different choice.  I chose life.

And I was blessed.

“It is because I saw God face to face, and yet my life was spared.”

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Grieving What Could Have Been


I look into the past
What do I see?
Truth
or Deception?

I wonder at times
What could have been
What should have been
What would have been

Not to dwell in the past
But to embrace its reality
Instead of floating in its deception
Because only by embracing
Will I be set free from its empty grip

Why?
Why did I lose my voice?
Why did I lose my soul?
Why did I lose myself?

In doing so, you consumed me
You consumed me with truth and lies
You consumed me with life and death
You consumed me with love and hate
You filled my emptiness with your own
Because I let you

My mind wants to recall the fun times
My heart wants to feel the intimacy
But I realize now that I seek this
To protect myself from the pain
To shield my heart from being alone
To deny what should have been

But that is the reality
That is the truth
That is what was
Not what could have been
What would have been
Had I been true to myself

An accurate memory that is authentic
Is better than a good one that is fake

A good memory is better than a bad picture
But a good picture does not replace a bad memory

Embrace the pain
Embrace what could have been
Embrace what should have been
Embrace what would have been

In doing so, I will find my voice
Reconnect with my soul
Rediscover myself
Be healed
Find Truth
Be Authentic
Move on

Entering my picture of life and letting go of the frame


“The exquisite risk…[is near]…when the ache we’ve suppressed for weeks creeps into our throat, when silence appears at the edge of our exhaustion like an old friend we couldn’t find. Often, the exquisite risk is waiting on the other side of the curtains we draw and the invitations we decline. And sudden birds, if followed, will lead us there. If we only enter our picture of life and let go of the frame.”

Mark Nepo, The Exquisite Risk

Over the last couple of weeks, I’ve had some amazing moments of being present, of connecting with life, of entering my picture of life. I’ve been sad, glad, mad and afraid. But, I’ve seen the sudden birds and followed them.  And in those moments, I experienced the exquisite risk of which Mark speaks.  I felt so alive, whether in pain or overflowing with musical joy.  I’ve sung Beatles songs and songs of praise in my helmet, riding on my motorcycle on the interstate at 65 mph. I’ve dipped my toe in the water of deep sorrow, pain and regret, cleansing my aching soul with tears.  That is life as I want to live it.  That is being, not doing.

And, over the last couple of weeks, I’ve been human – broken and afraid, drifting back to comfortable patterns of running from the sorry, pain and regret.  I’ve suppressed the ache, drawn the curtains and declined the invitations.  But today, I celebrate those moments of weakness because despite them and through them, I’ve seen and accepted my humanness.  With the grace of my higher power, I’ve gained insight and learning even through the “mistakes” I’ve made.  The more authentically I embrace the exquisite risk, the more clear is the emptiness of the alternative choices.  And for that clarity, I’m grateful.

I also choose to celebrate the gift of sobriety I’ve been given through those moments because despite returning to old patterns, I haven’t picked up a drink or a drug.  I’ve used people, places and things to numb the pain, or to escape the reality of life on life’s terms.  But, I’ve carried the lessons of my last relapse into each day and turned things over to my higher power, seeking enough strength amidst the escape to say no to mood or mind-altering substances.  And for that gift of life, I’m grateful.  It’s gift not of my strength, but of my weakness — not of my will, but of my submission.

Just for today, I will let it be.  I will let go, and let God.  I will enter my picture of life and let go of the frame.

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