The End of September

Tomorrow is October 1. I began my abstinence from computer games September 1. Tomorrow is a month. It's hard to believe. I'm delighted it's the truth, though.

My life is blessed. The stressors remain. My reaction to them comes from the other direction, though. I'm serene. I'm content. I am at peace. Praise God!

Kicked in the Gut

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. Amen.

Yes. I'm still abstinent from the games. But the thought did cross my mind. One of those people on my resentment list just shoved her way back in bigtime. It doesn't matter. It can't be helped. I would change it if I could, but I can't.

I edit a newsletter. It's eight pages, and looks good. It looks professional. And the issue just out announces the meeting that really is September 27 as being August 27. The email message that set me off says, "Got mine just now. Uh--the back page lists August 27 for the ... program. Hope folks check inside! Or did I lose a month somewhere?? :}:}:}:}"

Peace I Ask of Thee Oh River

Peace I ask of thee, oh river
Peace, peace, peace
When I learn to live serenely
Cares will cease

From the hills I gather courage
Visions of the days to be
Strength to lead and faith to follow
All are given unto me.

I'm sorry I made the mistake. I'm sorry I have to pray for her, sincerely or not, for a while. Probably a long while.

24 Days One Day at a Time

This blog is three weeks old today. I started it for a lot of reasons, but one pressing at the time was my obsession with computer games and my need to pour that frustration into writing without violating my anonymity in OA. On that Monday I had not opened what I then referred to as "stupid computer games" going into the third day. That abstinence continues, making this the 24th. The obsession is gone, as surely as the food obsession. I'm almost as amazed at the game obsession being listed as the food one. I didn't do either. God did.

I spent a good deal of the weekend on the computer, but I worked long and hard on an obligation I've known I needed to be working on since August or earlier. Since it needs to be finished by October 1 and is a big project, it was high time I got busy! I found the experience gratifying, challenging, and exhilarating--by far a bigger thrills than even exciting computer games, not just the Spider Sol, Sudoku, and Tetris I tended to play!

In Sunday School yesterday we read:

To claim God’s favor in our daily lives and agendas, even for every trivial lucky break and game-winning field goal, without acknowledging the world of suffering, the world of other people’s struggles, is to use God’s name in vain. (Ray Waddle, Against The Grain: Unconventional Wisdom from Ecclesiastes, page 18)

I found the timing of reading this ironic. The day before I had spent considerable time looking for something I needed that day. I'm working each morning on starting the day asking God to direct my thinking and to allow me to walk with him (changed from the earlier inviting him to walk with me.) So, I prayed, "Okay, God, where did I put them?" The answer, immediately obvious, led to my uncovering them in less than a minute. Sunday morning, with that in mind, I said "Okay, God. I need to find an agent." This, of course, is a much bigger task, a more meaningful one in the long run. I had an idea of a step I needed to take, one I'll take as soon as I publish this post--despite the quote above. I'll always remember the quote or at least the gist of it, though, and put my own requests into context of God's will, not mine. But I won't be so doggedly independent that I won't accept his proffered help. One day at a time.

I Must Go Down to the Sea Again

I could sit and look at the ocean forever. I’ve never lived closer than an eight hours drive, but I’ve visited from time to time. Once, with my parents and two of my sisters, before the third was born, again when my own sons were quite young, from time to time during conferences and meetings, on two ocean cruises, and flying over the expanse of the Atlantic, I’ve savored it. From time to time I’ve waded, probably never more than knee deep. Until now.

Far too often I’ve stood on the beach, the sideline of life, afraid to get into the game. I’m available for commentary, ready and eager to direct or describe the action, but the mêlée? I leave that to the actors. Conversation? Let me talk to the group. One on one? Too scary.

At least these truths evidenced themselves until nine months ago, the day I embraced OA and found myself wrapped in the support of my brothers and sisters. This day, three quarters of a year, I stand supported and loved, ready to face my fear.

I snuck up on my fear, buying a swimsuit in May, carrying it to a June retreat but isolating instead of daring to swim. Carrying the garment to Wisconsin, I admired it in the suitcase but never removed it, ignoring invitations and the pool beneath my window.

Today, the suit got wet. With salt water. I announced I intended to play in the surf, but over the swimsuit I donned shorts and a shirt. And I took my drivers’ license, credit card, cell phone, and new fancy camera with me. Did I really expect to get into the surf? Probably not. I did take off my sandals, fasten them to my shorts, and walk with my feet in the edge of the water, as I had before. I put the shoulder strap of the camera bag around my neck so I couldn’t drop it, fear of falling paralyzing me. I felt sand erode under my feet with surging and ebbing water. I ventured a few feet further, anxious, nervous.

I scanned the beach for an acquaintance attending the same conference, somebody I knew but had never conversed with of course. Maybe I would ask them to watch the camera. Should I take it back to the hotel? Maybe I could leave it with the desk clerk instead of confronting my husband in my folly. Three strangers sat in lawn chairs on the beach. Were they trustworthy? Better to disguise it as clothing piled, invisible among other piles.

There weren’t other piles, just one. Did I trust that family? On a wave of courage I put the bag on the concrete base of a pier, far from the water, close enough to the seawall few people walked up there. Resting on sandals, wrapped in the clothes, perhaps the large camera seemed innocuous enough. In my untried suit, wearing trifocals, I ventured into the surf.

I must get the suit wet. Finally water splashed the garment. Mission accomplished! I could return and retrieve the camera. No. Not enough. I went further out, and further, and further, surprised when a wave splashed drops on my face. I took off my glasses, held them tight, and moved further out. I marked my progress by the nearby pier. It would be marvelous to stand even with the building spread out near the end. I got close, about 3 feet the goal, but the waves were covering my head, the sun was long since down, and I was swimming alone, though a family of four were within sight, paying no attention to me.

I didn’t need to prove anything. I was far enough. Standing and relishing long enough to soak in the moment, I worked my way to shore, dressed, and climbed to the top of the sea wall where on a bench I pulled out the camera to take pictures of the area. In the darkness the quality suffered.

It's okay. The images in my head will remain pristine. I have dared to live in tomorrow.

Serendipity

What a neat day! It's Saturday, after a tough week, before a conference away from home at a fun place. Nothing pressing--well, nothing much. It's a good day.

Part of the fun of the day was getting to know a woman who's asked me to sponsor her. I've seldom met anybody--probably never--whose life and interests so closely parallel my own. We spent a delightful time together, and I look forward to many more in the years to come.

The games that plagued me until 15 days ago beckon to me occasionally, but it's a gentle call, one I can ignore and move on to something else. The shift from the obsession to this peace staggers me. It's a gift from God as clearly as my abstinence.

I worked through the 7th step in the workbook the last few days, sending the result to my own sponsor. This second time through the steps continues to yield rich results, and I'm so glad my sponsor suggested it. I've learned a lot about me and about God through it.

I'm bored tonight, so I wrote a poem.

Enmeshed.

Co-dependent,
my body an extension
of his,
a universal
remote control.
I exist in his shadow
in his mind
and mine.
Ask me my thoughts?
I answer with his.
Inquire of my health?
I’ll report on his pain.
We think first of him.

Release.
Can I? How?
Like a marionette
dropped, drug,
our strings now
desperately entwine.
Can I unclench his fist?
I forgive. Him. And me.
I release him, set him free.
Prosperity be his. Serenity.
He receives, I get it too.
Enmeshed in release.

Surrender

On an email loop, a person said, "When I ask someone who is not in program what is meant by surrender, the answer is usually that it is a negative word. It equates with quitting, giving up, being beaten and so on. What is the meaning of surrender in program?"

What a question! What a perfect question for me to encounter this morning. Here's what I wrote:

Surrender. Release. Surrendering your heavy burdens, relying on the promise that God will not give you something too heavy to carry. Finding out what is really meant by, "Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light."

Surrender is a freedom beyond belief, a peace that passes all understanding. Surrender is serenity, joy, release. Surrender is the life I want to never let go of now that it finally has found me.

Clint H on tapes available through xa-speakers.org talks about the difficulty of talking to soldiers about surrender but the excellent word picture that came from the experience. When a soldier surrenders, he lays the weapon down, sits down, and waits to be told what to do. He doesn't look at the weapon, doesn't touch it, doesn't initiate any action, he simply waits. The difference, with surrender under the 12 steps, is that the emptiness and defeat may feel the same, but the benevolence and love that are the orders make it the most wonderful event in a lifetime. I surrender.

A Major Minor Miracle

I dreaded the day today. I lay in bed and thought about Step 11 and the Big Book admonition,

On awakening let us think about the twenty-four hours ahead. We consider our plans for the day. Before we begin, we ask God to direct our thinking, especially asking that it be divorced from self-pity, dishonest or self-seeking motives. Under these conditions we can employ our mental faculties with assurance, for after all God gave us brains to use. Our thought-life will be placed on a much higher plane when our thinking is cleared of wrong motives.

To be honest, I wasn't really worried about my thoughts or about being dishonest or self-seeking. That self-pity thing, though, was a bit rampant in my expectations for the day. I work with a lot of people, and some of them frustrate me. Not many do so more than one person I was to spend the majority of the workday with today--and tomorrow and perhaps Wednesday. I pitied me despite asking God to direct my thoughts, but I remembered a wise mentor I had many years ago who would listen to my tale of woe about a situation and then tell me, "Sometimes the best way out is through." With that thought I could bear to face the day.

I found myself pleasantly surprised. It's not that the person didn't still irritate me some of the time, but not ALL of it. What the person said ACTUALLY MADE SOME SENSE! I found myself interested and ready to follow the line of thought. Wow!

What a change from past encounters! Wow! Later the same passage advises

We ask especially for freedom from self-will, and are careful to make no request for ourselves only. We may ask for ourselves, however, if others will be helped. We are careful never to pray for our own selfish ends. Many of us have wasted a lot of time doing that and it doesn't work.

I can easily see myself having prayed that the irritant be less irritating. I didn't. I prayed about my own thoughts instead. And I was blessed. I'm almost looking forward to tomorrow. Almost.