Wandering through the aisles of my local Goodwill store, I feel at home. I’m a scavenger by nature; totally at ease moving among my bargain-shopping brethren. None of us are looking for things we really need, because that’s not the point. It’s the options of change that bring us here.
Step 3: made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God, as we understood Him.
A set of tiki torches: wouldn’t those be fun? It’s the walking around looking at items that may change your life: that’s where the action is. Little retail bumps that can make you feel different, new, clean. The perfect knickknack to jazz up that space above your refrigerator. Or the identical high-back chairs that will, once and for all, complete the den. Or a new shirt to go with a new haircut. It’s cheap reinvention. I can take up a new interest, and by extension become a new person, for little investment. Sure beats working some type of program. It’s a fleeting feeling; but for as long as it lasts, life is wonderful.
I felt the same way when I drank. I also I feel the same way sober.
When I was drinking, the perfect me could be achieved once a very specific level of liquid was ingested into my body at a specified rate. Anything less was irritating; anything more was belligerent. Time allowed in that perfect love-buzz bubble? About an hour and a half.
That leveling balance now can be found in my spiritual tool box. And once I’m centered, at the end of prayer and meditation, or a meeting, or a phone call, I’m right-sized and in that perfect bubble of calm serenity. It normally lasts about an hour and a half.
But the great thing about the program is, I can rework myself into a fresh hour and a half bubble. That was never possible in the old days. In the old day, once the bubble burst, it was all over until morning. Outside things never work when it comes to fixing the inside. They never did.
Today, I understand: It’s not Goodwill; it’s God’s will.
Tomorrow, I’ll understand: How awful that pun is.