Here Today

Now that some time has gone by – enough where I can put my thoughts into words – of the experience that happened, not just to me, but the small group of us, and what happened to a young man that I will never know.
I ask myself why this happened.
I’ve asked myself how could this have happened.
I’d like to think that if there were some way to turn back time – to see just enough into the future that this would not have happened.
Taking another road, leaving just a little bit earlier from our job site.
That this wouldn’t have happened. But it did.
What started out as just an ordinary day – sure ended up being one of the most hair-raising days of my life.
Not just in my sobriety. But in life.
I’ve written a lot of short stories on what my life in and out of sobriety has been.
The choices I’ve made, good or bad. The choices I see people make around me in and out of the Halls of Recovery.
The right ones, the not so great ones and then there are the truth ones.
Ones that just are.
We make them everyday. How we interact with others. How we hold up under stress.
To giving ourselves the chance to change.
I’ve never met this young man but I know that the chance for change is done with him. From that day forward his journey is over on this plane of existence.
How can this not affect me or the people I was with.
How can this not affect the family and friends of that young man.
It can’t. It won’t.
It will always be there – especially the family – some close friends.
For me, as time passes – the event will subside – some, hopefully. I don’t know.
This is a first for me.
The first twenty-four hours was something. The dreams of that young man sitting up with all of us standing around him.
To the van that I was driving with the clients from my company rolling over and over, instead of off to the side of the road, has played out in my head the first few days.
Talking to other people helps – some. Oh, I’ve talked to the police, the fireman, the insurance companies.
Even the local newspaper.
“What did you see?,” they all ask. To saying, “What a shame.”
A life should not be summed up by those three words.
But that’s what it is.
I’ve been sober long enough to know it isn’t God. That’s one thing I’m very grateful to have known.
Yah, sure I’ve asked God why – how the heck could I not. Praying for the family, to praying and saying thanks that it wasn’t one of the clients I’m responsible for.
To even saying why not me instead of an eighteen year old, that to me has his whole life ahead of him.
My friends say, that’s life.
These things happen all the time. It just happened to be you.
The road we were on was as busy as any other during that week.
Not too much traffic for that time of day. The road wasn’t wet or covered with snow and the traffic was going at the average speed.
Heading north when we were struck. One second nothing – the next he was in our lane, hitting the side of our vehicle.
Like I said, no reason.
Being able to keep the van from rolling, to thinking we’re going to go over the ravine, in what seemed like minutes were just seconds.
Having the clients all in shock and trying to get out so I could find out what happened, to actually seeing the extent of the damage to us and the pile of wreckage on the highway. Hearing the screams for help to see the best and worst of people.
The ones that stopped and helped, the ones that just drove by.
Can’t really blame them, I don’t even know if I would’ve stopped.
I would like to believe or think I would have.
There was a time within my cups of using that I would’ve told you that I did.
“The Hero”.
These are the moments in life when you just don’t know ‘til it happens.
That road we’re on in life has all those moments.
I remember when my foster son passed away, to holding the hand of my mother. Seeing that last moment go by.
As time moved on with these moments, those memories I’ve taken comfort in believing that they are in a better place. That God has called them home.
I’ve come to believe that there is a place and still work to be done on a higher plane of existence.
I remember that day when our country was devastated – how we all as a nation looked on in horror. I remember saying to my dad at the time that my foster son David and my mother were very busy ushering home the lost souls on this road of life.
I don’t know if that’s the right way to think, but it helps.
Believing that my God works through other people. Call them angels or what I like to think of them as agents of God.
Taking comfort in that small way helps.
I like to think that this young man is now busy working for God – ushering the men, women, and children that pass away everyday.
To know and attempt to take some comfort with that.
Life moves on for us. On any road we are on.
Be it early recovery, newly married, new job or new town or city we end up at to live our lives. Any of those firsts we have in life.
We will all have the chance to change – one day at a time, if we choose to.
When all this happened I intuitively surrounded myself with the people that are doing what it takes to live happy, sober, and somewhat a sane life.
Hearing again that we can’t live in yesterday, that tomorrow is yet to come.
That any chance of change is done now. It’s not what you leave behind, it’s how you lived through life that people remember.
For in the end, we are all just Here Today…                                                   

Prayers

Every so often, when I sit by myself is the time when my mind can go south.
Falling into those thoughts of, “Not measuring up.”
Not just to the folks around me – but those messed up thoughts of myself.
Being overly sensitive to the things around me.
People, places, and things.
Saying that serenity pray, not just in the morning – but throughout the day.
Even after all this time in a program of self help.
I’ m still hit with the, “What the hell is this all about?”
Not that I think I’m any different.
Oh sure, sometimes in early recovery there was a lot of that.
But I really do try today on changing those ways.
Just how much of turning the other cheek is one supposed to do?
My friends tell me, “A lot!”
But come on, learning to pray when the tuff times hit, is all good and dandy.
But it’s not about that.
When I first took those certain prayers something wondrous happened.
Later as I learned to implement those prayers in my daily life things started to change. Okay, wondrous isn’t the first thing that pops into my head – more like the realizations that with certain prayers, most of the things I go through can be made better with, grace, honor and dignity.
Oh, and throw in some serenity prayers throughout the day really helps a lot too!
For those certain prayers, It’s not so much as the prayer themselves – it’s the belief and faith when we say them that matter.
I was always a pitch hitter when it came to prayers.
“God, help me get that job.”
“God, get me that car.”
“God, why can’t you make them see what a great person I am.”
‘Til I was saying, “God, get me out of this mess.”
Or, “God, I hope they have what I need.”
To, “God, please. I can’t go on.”
It’s not that I didn’t have a relationship with a higher power.
I just never had a relationship with a higher power.
That sounds so weird – but it’s the truth.
When I’m in my head too much, over thinking of a situation.
Either at work or home, with family or friends.
Going over the day thinking, “What did they mean by that?”
“Why isn’t this working?”
To, “What’s wrong with me?”
Having a God of my understanding today is what helps when life gets me down.
Not only the good times where I have to watch out for my pride and take all the credit.
To wallowing in self-pity where I’m not living in the solution.
I’ve talked to many people through the years in and out of recovery about faith.
About what they practice on a daily basis to there ritualistic beliefs.
When it comes to prayers.
There’s are so many different ones.
Ones I’ve come to use, either on a day to day routine or just because of the moment. When I started out praying many years ago in recovery.
I started from the ground floor.
My building of a relationship with God was slow and steady.
My spirituality, as I often say, “Is not the same as yesterday.
Last week. Ten years ago. It’s constantly changing.”
As I rely more on God. My relationship grows.
The more it grows, the more beliefs I have, and as that happens, the more faith comes forth.
But self doubt does come in.
Over confidence raises it ugly head.
Still showing me that there’s still times when I’m growing.
Other than my mother – no one really ever showed me how to pray.
Some through the years have told me how to as they do.
I’ve heard, “Fake it ’til you make it.”
Or, “Pray to something. As long as it isn’t yourself.”
We all can see miracles’ everyday as long as we’re willing to see them.
One in particular was towards the lasts days of my moms life.
She was very spiritual.
She had her foundation on solid ground.
By the time she passed on she had been bed redden for about three months.
As her health slowly slipped away, she ended up having bed scores.
As the nurse, myself, my father, and partner would take turns turning her in bed.
Keeping her clean.
Washing and disinfecting her wounds.
She would be in and out of moments of clarity.
Some moments she was very with it – others well she would mistaken her husband or me for someone else.
Those moments when she would say that she’s on the second step.
We would ask her what she meant. “Being on the second step?”
She would look at us saying, “That God (Jesus), is not ready for her yet.
That she was being healed before she went home.”
I can tell you it was very surreal, very weird, and sometimes even spooky.
My partner and I along with the nurse and dad would talk about how my mother beliefs in God were.
I saw that her faith never wavered.
Even at its worst and here’s the kicker.
One day the nurse and I were washing her up.
As I was cleaning a bed sore on the back of her calf, I said to the nurse,
“Look at this, it looks like it’s okay!”
“Don’t pick it!” The nurse said, “Those are deep wounds.” She added.
“I know, but it looks much better.” I told her.
Taking the wash cloth and slowly cleaning around the edge of her wound, it started to peel away.
Too our amazement the scab fell away and we looked at brand new skin.
“This shouldn’t happen.” She said aloud.
“I’ve been doing this type of work for many years.
That was a deep wound.” She said once again.
My mom then spoke up saying, “That God (Jesus), was healing her for her journey home.”
I prayed a lot through the years, but I can tell ya seeing miracles is one of a kind.
Hearing my mom tell us that she’s on the second step, almost there,
was beautiful and terrifying all at the same time.
By the time she did pass away, there was not one bed sore left.
Her beliefs never wavered,
her faith grew so much stronger and her prayers always grateful – even at its worst.
So when I’m in my own head.
Having those, “Poor me’s.”
Letting people, places, and things run around in my head,
I can fall back on that relationship with God.
Building that foundation with a high power.
Keeping me right size.
There’s a saying that goes like this, “We all go out the same way, shortness’ of breath.”
It’s what I do with those breaths in all those in betweens, as I say my Prayers…