Grace House

 

We're born with grace. That may be all we had the day we arrived.  Grace is the product of gratitude. At one time believe it or not, there was nothing in our minds except gratitude. No desire, No worries, No fears. No wishes, No regrets. No expectations. Just the content feeling of grace. The birth must be the most traumatic experience of our lives because until we were exposed to light, air, and a temperature that was not 98.6 degrees, we knew nothing except serenity. That beautiful place, that heavenly place is gone. It's all we've ever known and it's gone. Maybe we live our lives trying to return to that place of eternal contentment. 

Placed before us from the day we were born until the moment we die are choices. Stretch out your hand, choose fire or ice, good or evil, danger or safety. We have free will and a complex body and brain made of mysterious and magical chemicals and the minerals of the earth. We also have chance. We can't choose to be born or who to be born of, we may win the gene pool lottery and skate through life unscathed by trauma or illness. Highly unlikely. Because we are human and a delicate balance of chemicals and minerals, what we are exposed to, what we put into our bodies, what we do to our minds, pose a risk to disruption of the ability to choose ice over fire, danger over safety, and good over evil. If everyone seeks serenity, then no one chooses to relinquish what serenity they have. No one, unless there is something that disrupts logical, rational, reasoning. Alcohol and other  drugs may take nothing from one person and everything from her sister or brother. No one chooses to become dependent on a mind altering substance. We all may choose to put something into our bodies, but we don't choose to become dependent. 

For millions of Americans who desire to return to a life of pursuit of happiness with a healthy mind and body, recovery becomes their lifestyle forever. They learn daily how to live without the drug. How to live with reasonable expectations. How to not pick up. If you're a college kid, the toughest place for you to learn the lessons of recovery might just be college. At any time there may be 600 students at the University of Wisconsin, Madison College, and Edgewood college getting up with the sun, bright eyed and praying that the sun sets on their sober faces. With a hundred thousand of students and peers living a lifestyle different from their's, these many few may feel alone in a crowd with a tenuous grasp on recovery and a heavy weight of temptation urging them to be like everyone else. 

The college student in recovery lives a life of gratitude in the midst of a society which is perpetually encouraged  to be dissatisfied and find serenity in more, more, more. The recovery person knows from intimate experience the deadly risk of choosing more over acceptance of what is or isn't and being grateful for what really matters. In gratitude grace emerges. Remember, grace was there all the time. Grace was pushed to the corner crushed by resentment, anger, jealousy, envy, pride, fear and over indulgence. Humility is a product of gratitude. Grace shines where humility exists. 

Recovery people who have a chance of another day of a life of choices, free from dependency for the moment, have humility. They know how to be grateful for what matters. They know how to say yes to what is good and no to what is dangerous. The desire to use a drug has been lifted, but that reprieve is only a daily reprieve dependent on factors that can be achieved through honesty.

In 2007, August 13th to be exact, Aaron's House a housing option for college men in recovery opened under the umbrella of the Aaron J. Meyer Foundation, Inc. Today, the Foundation opened Grace House for women. Grace House is the sister house to Aaron's House. My prayer for the student residents at Aaron's House and Grace House is that they live their lives with Grace and Dignity. I believe God answers that prayer every day I ask God to help me be a man of grace and dignity. Dreams do come true. Prayers are answered. Grace is restored. Peace to the women and men who make the community of college students in recovery.  You've got today.

No, she's not MY daughter, but I knew her father.

Thorough wrote about temporarily having possession of a man's axe and returning the axe to the man sharper than when he received it. I read that in May 05. I knew he was not so much talking about a man's axe as much as he was describing an idea for respecting, caring for, and being responsible for prized possessions of others. Even the peace and serinity of another person is a possession I can take away and dull or sharpen for having been in the presence.

This is Emma. Since 2009 we've grown a connection where we learn from each other. I has sons. No daughters. She has a mom, her dad passed away when Emma was 9. For six years we lived and learned, laughed, cried some,  and laughed again, never stopped learning.

I lost a child once, I never wanted to lose another. Emma told me one day with a diamond of a tear dropping from her eye, "I lost a Dad once, I didn't want to lose another." Grateful to say one day after a memorable day at the Jefferson Arabian Horse Show, nothing was lost. The prized possessions are sharper than when we acquired them.

I'm asked from time to time, "Tom, is Emma your daughter?" What my head wants to say is 'no, she's not but she was supposed to be.' That's a bitter laced answer, inappropriate and lacking in Grace. Yesterday the proper response came to me. This is it: "Is Emma MY daughter?  She is not my daughter,  but I knew her Dad. I'm fortunate to have a special place in Emma's life."

For certain we are both sharper for having been in the presence of each other since 2009.