Rocking Chairs of Dreams

Today I woke early and Bill was on my mind, as he usually is.  I sat in the chair that I always sat in which was across from the chair Bill always sat in, but his chair was empty again.  He and I would sit in our chairs, pray, meditate and search God's will in our lives.  It was a wonderfully spiritual part of our lives and I miss that so badly.  At the end of our "session," he's smile and say, "That's it," and then he's lean over and kiss me. I'd stand and kiss his bald head.  I loved that part of our morning. 

After praying and meditating we'd discuss the world's problems and iron them all out before breakfast.  Mornings were great here and I'm so grateful to have had so many years of them with Bill before he died.  Bill and I had a "pack."  When we both retired we would buy two wooden rocking chairs and set them out on our porch and grow old together.  We'd sit on our rocking chairs and discuss our children, our grand dogs, and our life in general.  That never happened and we never bought those rocking chairs.  We were close, but life took a deadly turn and the dream ended. 
Now I go to Cracker Barrel and places like that and look at all the rocking chairs lined up on their porch and think of all the times Bill and I could have had solving the nation's problems on our own rocking chairs.  I imagine we would sit on the porch, rocking back and forth while the wind chimes surrounding us would catch a breeze and play music for us.  He'd take my hand holding it that special way that only he held my hand.  The dream now is only alive in my brain.  I will never own a rocking chair to put out on my porch.  It's just not meant to be; but I'm okay with that now because I have so many other "real" memories that no one can remove. 

Bill was a sensitive man; a tender man, who rarely raised his voice to his children or me.  He always tried to reason out problems or conflicts.  He was a peacemaker and a man God truly loved.  Bill loved life and found blessings in almost everything; but he was real with God, telling Him when he was upset with Him and when he wanted things to go in a different direction than God planned.  But Bill and I had a saying which we ended with each prayer, "Your will God, not mine."  We both believed that our Higher Power knew what was best for us and what was going to happen down the road.  He had all the blueprints, we had only a piece and we tried to draft the whole blueprint from the tiny piece we were given. 

This morning is one of those mornings when I look at his empty chair and wonder why.  After almost two years, if I close my eyes, I can still hear his voice whispering in my ear, I can feel his soft lips on mine and I feel our two hearts beating together, then I open my eyes and it's all gone, except for the memory which will remain with me forever.  My throat fills with a lump I can't swallow away but no tears flow from my eyes today.  Not today, maybe tomorrow.

Can You Hear Me Now?

About a week ago my two daughters wanted my opinion on whether or not they should allow a friend of my youngest daughter to move in to their home.  In the past, I would have jumped at giving my opinion; after all I thought I was the only one with the right answers and if everyone would do as I say every body's life would be perfect.  I hesitated in giving my opinion because I am working very hard at allowing my grown daughters to make their own decisions whether they be right or wrong.  I told them both that they are grown women and certainly capable of making their own decisions but they insisted they only wanted my opinion.

This young man in question is an ex-drug user or maybe I should say an on and off drug user.  My youngest daughter has known him quite a long time.  They are good friends when he is clean, and not so good friends when he is using.  Right now, he is not using.  For the most part, I like him.  He is respectful, friendly and has a good heart - when he is not using.  I don't know exactly what he is like when he is using because he doesn't come around to let me see that side of him.  I only know what most people are like when they are actively using - they are less than trustworthy.

So, my daughters asked for my opinion.  Hesitantly I gave them my opinion prefacing it by saying, "This is only my opinion, you both are old enough to do what you think is best."  I listed all the reasons why I thought that him sharing their home would be a bad idea.  I told them that he is not working a program of recovery and the chances that he will use again may be great.  I told them that if they gave him a key to their house and he did start to use again all the locks in the house would have to be changed because, for the most part, drug addicts can not be trusted when they are using.  I asked them how they would handle him bringing women they do not know into their house because he wants to have sex with them?  I asked them if they realized that if he lived there the freedom they have in the evening and morning wearing just their "nighties" would be over.  I even mentioned that when people who are friends move in together oftentimes that is the end of a friendship forever.  Ultimately I think they understood clearly that I thought the idea was not a very good one.

They told him he could move in.

They told me their decision today at dinner.  I nodded affirmatively.  My throat tightened as I choked down my meal; my scream stuck in my throat.  My heart felt so heavy in my chest.  I'm ashamed to say I couldn't wait until dinner was over and then I couldn't wait for them to leave.

As I watched them pull out of the driveway my tears welled up in my eyes and then rolled down my cheeks.  I couldn't stop them.  My throat hurt from suppressing the screams I wanted so badly to shout out.  I wanted to call them and say, "Please, don't do this.  Please, you are making a big mistake."  I had to do it.  I couldn't stop myself.  I picked up the phone and called...my sponsor.

An immediate relief rushed over my body as I heard my sponsor say hello at the other end of the line.  I didn't waste any time.  The tears were flowing as I relayed what had just happened.  I told her I was scared.  I told her I wanted to tell them not to let him move in.  I told her that they asked for my opinion, I gave it and they didn't take it.  I told her I had to do something but I didn't know what to do.

When I finally shut up the phone was silent.  I waited for a couple of seconds.  My sponsor always pauses before she speaks to me when I'm upset.  I waited a couple of more seconds before I said, "Are you there?"  I could almost feel her warm smile as she responded, "Yes, I'm here."

What words of wisdom did she give to me?  She told me, "it sucks but we are powerless over other people's actions".  She said, "we want to get in there and run other people's lives because we think we know better than our Higher Power. It's easy to revert back to things that are "comfortable" but that doesn't mean those things are right.  Now that we know better we can do better".  She said that "it's not always easy to do the right thing".

I started to laugh.  Those thoughts were the exact thoughts I had expressed to my sponseee earlier today.  I said them to my sponsee but I obviously didn't hear them for myself.  I was so overcome by fear that I couldn't hear the words I spoke to my sponsee until my sponsor said them to me.

I'm feeling better now.  I've once again allowed my Higher Power to be in control of my life and the lives of my daughters.  I thought for a minute there He might have needed my help but I think He can handle it all on His own.  I'm sure there is a lesson in all of this; I just pray it's not too painful.

As always, let me mean it when I say, "Thy will, not mine, be done."

"God helps those....."

Do I believe in a Higher Power because I think he can make my life easier?  Do I pray and mediate only on the material things I want Him to provide for me?  When I go to my Higher Power in prayer, do I even ask for others?

I have always believed in God but I kept Him in a box.  I had a narrow view and understanding of God but thought I knew Him intimately.  Until the effects alcoholism brought me to my knees, I only had a slight understanding of the Him and His abilities.  I believed the miracles that God performed, but I worshiped the miracles and not the Deity who enabled them to be performed.  I began searching for the miracles and not the relationship with a Higher Power who cared for me.  I stopped to worship the "sign" but never attempted to continue on the journey. 

In times of trouble, I never rested in the arms of my Higher Power, I always helped Him do for me what He could not quite accomplish on His own.  After all, "God helps those who helps themselves."  When I could no longer help myself, when all of my strength in conquering a problem was exhausted, it was then that I "allowed" my Higher Power to take over without my interference.  It was only in utter defeat that I let go of my problem and "allowed" a Power greater than me to take over.  Did I do it because it was the right thing to do?  No.  I did it because it was the only avenue left for me to take.  Now I am more apt to believe that "God helps those who can't help themselves."

Today, I woke up very humbled.  I am once again unsure of my relationship with my Higher Power. Please don't get me wrong.  I am sure of the relationship my Higher Power has with me, I am unsure of mine with Him. I do not want to be the person who goes to prayer and meditation because I want "things."  I want to go to prayer and meditation to have a greater and more intimate relationship with a Power greater than myself.  I want to be able to say from deep within me, "Thy will be done."

Attitude of Gratitude

This morning I woke up rather blah feeling.  I brushed my teeth, ran a brush through my hair and looked at myself in the mirror.  (Insert silent scream here).  I shuffled into the kitchen to make myself my morning tea.  I sighed heavily as my thoughts drifted to my youngest daughter and the pain and hurt she is feeling right now.  "Why?  What did I do that was so terrible?  Why do I feel so unimportant?"  My daughter's words echoed in my mind over and over.  I wanted to scream out, "You didn't do anything wrong" but I remained silent in my opinions and just held her and told her I loved her and I thought she was very special.  I closed my eyes and asked my Higher Power to place his loving arms around her.    The microwave beeped informing me my tea was complete.  My fingers encircled the steaming hot cup warming my hands; the steam from the tea drifting up to warm my face.  My heart remained heavy.

I sat down on the couch in my living room.  My Dobie, sensing that I was feeling low, came over and placed his head in my lap.  I smiled down at him and patted the top of his head; tears welling up in my eyes.  I took a deep breath and started to pray and meditate.  Fifteen minutes later I stopped,  thinking, "this is futile."  I picked up my Al-Anon books and read the pages for today.  One of the pages was on gratitude.  Really?  Gratitude?  I began meditating on gratitude unknowingly; begrudgingly even.  "What do I have to be grateful for this morning?"  Nothing!  I have a daughter whose heart is breaking...... and then I stopped feeling sorry for myself.  The things I had to be grateful for came slowly at first and then they rushed in.  I looked down at my Dobie knowing he was one of the things I can be grateful for.  This morning, I offer you my alphabetical list of gratitude.

A is for Amy, B is for Bill, C is for Caring friends, D is for Dad, E is for Evening when I can rest my weary mind, F is for Felicia, G is Gratitude (that my Higher Power gave me this morning), H is for Helen, I is for Icing, J is for July (the month of my birth), K is for Kisses, L is for Laughter, M is for Mom, N is for good Neighbors, O is for Open Minds, P is for Prayer, Q is for Quiet time, R is for Rory, S is for Sara, T is for Troubled times that I can grow through, U is for Undying love that my Higher Power has for me, V is for Victory (knowing I don't have to fight the fight), W is for Wealth (and not the monetary kind), X is for Xander, and  Z is for a Zest for life that hasn't been in my all my life.

Thank You for the Painting

This morning I was in absolute awe of the painting left in the sky for me by my Higher Power.  The colors were the prettiest shades of red and pink mixed with a subtle purple perfectly accented by the bare winter trees reaching their naked branches towards the sky in some sort of silent offering.  The sky was perfectly painted.  I  vacillated between wanting to keep starring at the perfect picture and wanting to break my gaze by running to get my camera to make the Kodak moment last forever.  Although I wish I had a picture of the way my day started, I'm glad that I didn't break my trance from the site before me.  I will have to keep this sunrise inside the Kodak of my mind's eye.  Sometimes remembering things the exact way we experienced them is better than a photo.....sometimes.