Hold On Tight to Your Dreams

This post was written in 2016, but worth resurrecting in 2021.  A timeless thought and practice for anyone looking at their life in the midst of chaos. 

******************************************************

Here we are. One month under our belt in 2016.  I hope you still have a glimmer of the hopes and dreams you planted for yourself, or thought you did, as the new year approached. 

Do you remember being full of hope and new promise of untouched ideas and unexplored dreams before the chaos of addiction was crouching at your door?  Remember what it was like to look ahead and see yourself doing something you thought would change the world or at least change your life? 

Gosh, it was so long ago when I used to imagine myself either performing, teaching or nursing.  But when life didn't head in that direction, nor did I have my feet firmly planted to make any of these aspirations a goal, I began to put those dreams into boxes near my chair so I could pull them back out when I was ready.  Then the boxes were in the way and after hurting myself tripping over them, they were placed up high on a shelf that were never pulled back down and remained there unopened.  Finally, those boxes were tossed away when changes came along and those dreams seemed untouchable or foolish for one like me. 

When Cliff was in full blown addiction, I began to see myself through a narrower eyeglass and only examined his life through the telescopic lens, because you know, he was my son.  My problem, my rescue and my responsibility.  I was so exhausted trying to save Cliff, I had no time or desire to change my own life.  I thought it was selfish to think about me because, after all, who would help my poor baby??  As if he were my infant child, I would cry out at night "He's hungry, he's alone, he's cold, he's fearful."  Is he going to survive another night on the street?  But the fact was "He's 18, he's 21, he's 25" and those concerns kept overriding all sensible thinking.  

When I was created, like all of us, I was planted with a future and a hope.  Dreams, visions and ideas were indelibly planted in my marrow by my Creator.  He gave you some of your own, too.  But, when the chaos of addiction became my partner in every breath I took, the enemy of my soul kept telling me that nothing would change. The subtle, sneaky, lying deceiver kept telling me my dreams and visions I had were foolish and a thing of the past, let alone the dreams I had for my children. Those were stomped out and gone. The only dream I could see was burying Cliff from an overdose, which by the grace of God didn't happen.  Wow, the time I spent lost in the lies added up to years.  

But guess what?  When my own recovery from codependency finally took root, I learned that I was powerless over this thing and certainly powerless over my sons lives and therefore, better look closely at my own. I discovered that some of my character traits weren't very nice and were requiring change, even at 61.  But, they don't change the dreams and goals planted by my Creator and are still here.  He never took them away from me in spite of my belief that they were long gone. There was no expiration date on those specific gifts He gave me. Soon, the boxes of dreams re-appeared in my line of vision and were within my grasp.  The lids were lifting up again and soon, the plans re-awakened in my thinking. 

Some of the things God planted in me, occur without thought because I simply love the life He's given me and I'm thankful that today I can walk in confidence that I will still have opportunities to live out my dream. Writing happens to be one of them. Other dreams and character behaviors are still being shaped, even at 61.  Yay!

And in those dreams that are taking shape, I see both of my sons becoming the men that God created them to be, without their mommy's direction.  They are men. They are responsible. They are loved by the same Creator and were born with a future and a hope, too.  Your addict and your alcoholic were created in just the same way!  This is not an exclusive club. Have hope! 

Not nobody, not no how (tipping my hat to the Cowardly Lion) is going to steal my dreams and blessings again.  They may not look like the vision I had at 18, 25, or 40, but they are exactly as they should be right now. God keeps His plans and promises. We just have to believe and let Him in. 

Hold on Tight To Your Dreams

You tube and picture googled

Dear Anonymous,

Thank you for taking the time to visit my blog and to write to me specifically about your experience with your son. Your question of being able to let go and have peace, even if he was still using, is valid and is faced every day by parents like you and me.  You're right that it's a lot easier to face our struggles when the tornadoes stop and we begin to sift through the aftermath again. When the winds are roaring and we are in the midst of the storm, we can't hear anything or anyone else. That's when we really need our sisters and brothers in the program to help steady us and keep the blinders off our eyes.

Personally what I've learned along the way through the years of torment is that my life matters as much as Cliff's life does. I know the news media is rampant with the "all lives matter" lingo, but that statement applies to more than just a race issue.  It seemed for so many years I chased and questioned and longed for something or someone to fix, heal and save my son because his life mattered so much to me, I'd do anything; anything at all if I thought it would stop him.   But I never thought about my life mattering too, and have many horror stories as a result.  I never thought about my place in this world. I'm not sure I would be writing this blog if Cliff had never gone to prison as I don't have that kind of knowledge to know what I would have done but I do know that before he went to prison, the situations, tempers and risks were increasing to such a high level of insanity and intensity that I truly was at risk myself.  For what? I'm not sure, but I know that I wasn't capable of much but putting myself in harm's way for Cliff's life.  How unhealthy and toxic is that behavior? 

When our children become adults, we should be able to see them making some smart and wise decisions and choices.  Everything shouldn't be done in panic or chaos.  Every dime I make shouldn't be used to pay a debt I don't have. Our addicts are smart enough to find a way to get the drug or drink they want without our knowledge or help. Often we don't hear from them for weeks. Who is caring for them? Where are they getting their basic needs met?   When I finally began to "see the light" so to speak, it took a great deal of support from others who were in the same place in life.  Not just to cry on each others shoulders but to be accountable for making healthier decisions FOR ME.  This is not selfish, this is self-care.  It might just be a night of sleep that I should be getting, which meant shutting my phone off. It might have been a walk or dinner out with friends to laugh and focus on people living life to the fullest. It could be buying a new winter coat for yourself that you need instead of always putting clothes and shoes on the back of one who is still in addiction.  

When our addicts relapse after a period of sobriety, that is the time we need to work the program harder than ever before for ourselves. We can't work it for our addicts. They have to find their own way at this point. We can cheer them on, give them phone numbers to shelters, rehab programs or the like, but this is the time that  we must take care of ourselves, or we will both die. Maybe not physically, but in every other aspect of the world we live in.    How fair is that to your family, your grandchildren, your co-workers or your friends? How fair is that to you and your Creator? 

We slowly learn to love in detachment.  If our addicts are using, boundaries are necessary and must be used for our well being. Meet them at McDonalds to be sure they have eaten that day.  If you want to be sure they're warm, pickup up a coat, boots or a blanket at Salvation Army so you know they've got their basic needs met.  Will it completely take away your concerns or hurts? No, but you'll know you've done something to help and the rest is in their own choosing.  It's the hardest path a parent will walk because it doesn't make any sense to us. We may not get supported from family, friends or even our spouses.  Self-care is priority one and it's a new way for many of us. It may feel strange but it's absolutely right. 

Learning to let go and Let God, Trust God, Believe God in all you do will help you stop worrying and fretting. That solves nothing.  If your son wants to be well, he can take those same steps too. God will answer him when he is ready to listen. 

I'm praying for you and many others in the fight, Anonymous, as you find your way out of this chaos. Feel free to email me anytime. 

God Bless You and all others in this boat.  

Photo googled. 

Celebrating Mom

"One of the first things that I remember about your Mother was that she was extremely bright" Aunt Pat said. "She missed a lot of school and I suspect it was because she didn't have the bus fare yet she was never behind in her work."   

 In honor of what would have been Mom's 82nd birthday,  I asked one of her dearest high school friends  if we could meet for lunch.  Aunt Pat always impressed me whenever we would see her because she was current on happenings and in great shape due to being an avid walker.  Instead, Aunt Pat offered an invitation for me to come to her home which I did and we sat and chatted a bit about Mom. When WWII broke out, Mom was sent to boarding school and while there her father re-enlisted in the Sea-bees and her mom left the state she lived in to go after work. Shortly after mom finished high school her parents divorced and her own mother was gone for 44 years and returned only after her second husband passed away. 

As we chatted my suspicions were confirmed however, that Mom was relatively homeless through her high school years. Aunt Pat recalled just how often mom seemed to stay here, there and everywhere that she could bunk in. At times she was at her sister's for more than a few nights and also stayed at some acquaintances of my grandmother's as a mother's helper.  But more often than not, Mom was fending for herself.
  

Somehow her tuition expenses were met because she went to a parochial school but she truly didn't have much family support in her circle. Aunt Pat said she suspected some family turmoil but never knew for certain because Mom never said. She guessed it to be alcohol.  Aunt Pat said she had never met anyone like my mom during those years who seemed to always be asking one friend or another if she could come and sleep at their house for a few days. I'm sure I remember my mom saying to no one in particular that she'd never had a birthday party as a child. She also never really talked about any holidays, or holiday traditions and the few pictures we have of mom as a child were taken when she was farmed out to an aunt's farm in Port Huron, Michigan. 

 So today, to honor Mom for the woman she single-handedly became, we shared some lunch and some laughs and admired how she managed to get through her own childhood relatively unscathed and launched into a 53 year love affair with my father, which produced ten children, nine who survive.   We talked about mom's personality which depicts a child of alcoholism. Some detachment, some caustic conversations and trying to control everyone's life at times (since her's was out of control that's often what happens). 

How do you learn to become a parent of nine children and manage them without husbandly support?  Oh, my dad was around of course, but he worked many jobs to pay for a roof over our heads, put food on the table and parochial school for each of us whether it was some, part or all years of our education.  You learn by trial and error and never, ever give up and that's what mom did with us. She never gave up, though I'm sure she'd have liked to throw in the towel more than once and run for the hills.  The only problem was we could probably all have chased her down and dragged her back.  

Mostly mom just did what the day demanded. She seemed to enjoy baking more than cooking and it wasn't unusual to come home to the fragrant aroma of baking bread or freshly made donuts.  At Christmastime our relatives and friends couldn't wait to get their hands on one of Mom's coffee cakes.  She was an excellent seamstress, a good cook and a great baker. Mom loved to read and as Aunt Pat reminded me, her conversations had substance. She just loved each of us the best way she knew how.and loved us more than we will ever know, of this I'm certain.  

Each passing year I miss my mother all the more. The last few years of her life I was able to be with her day in and day out.  A privilege that will never come this way again.  

Have a scoop of ice-cream in honor of Donna Jean.  Or if you  are hankering for one of Mom's favorites,  German Chocolate Cake, dig in! 

Water, where are you?

Water. I've never longed for water so much in my life as I have this year. We are in such a state of heat and drought in the Midwest that water has become a coveted commodity.

Food. Have you ever been hungry? Not a noon-time starving sort of thing, but really hungry? Not knowing where or when you might get your next meal? I thought at times I've had it tough, but I never had to go without life's basic necessities.

One of the activities I've become involved with in the last year is working with a ministry in Detroit which serves the homeless a meal.  One Saturday each month our church takes a turn to put out a little meal for whomever lives under the viaducts, in the abandoned houses or curled up in a park nearby. I must confess that today I was considering finagling my way out of it. I was thinking of a million excuses simply because it is so hot out, I just didn't want to leave my comfortable house and face the heat.  Thankfully after a hustle-bustle kind of morning and hearing from others who were traveling with me, I began to get a bit motivated for the afternoon and today 7 of us went to show some love.

I was surprised when we approached the park.  Many men were already lined up to go through the clothing line and ultimately come through the chow line. Being that this is a ministry that is done right on the sidewalks we mostly see men as the women and children may find shelter elsewhere.  In this heat, 98 degrees in the shade, I was surprised to see anyone outside, but then again, where would they go? There are some cooling shelters here and there, but most aren't wanting to leave their community or their living locations. They're concerned that someone else may claim their piece of land.  

The time goes quickly and we are busy every minute. Young to old today went with me to serve, from 20 years old to seniors in their seventies. Nice!  All the while I kept thinking about what I could be grateful for on a day like this.  Well, for one thing, there was a little cool breeze under the trees where we set up.  We also had some super nice people coming through the line and it isn't always that way.  I was also grateful that I knew in my heart this discomfort was momentary.  In a few hours we would be driving 30 miles back in air-conditioned cars, going to air-conditioned homes and having a place where a nice shower could be had.  I used to take on every one's struggles and wonder and worry about them all the time. But God said that isn't my job.   The 12 steps has helped me learn a very tough thing ~ not to feel sorry for those we help.  No one needs my sympathies, they just need my helping hand. Great peace comes by doing what I can, when I can and where I can.  The rest takes care of itself. 

Ninety minutes later it was time to close up. The food was consumed, the watermelon was gone and soon the beverage bucket held nothing but ice cubes which we offered out as well. Not a drop of water could be found, but a good time was had by all.

11th Step:  Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as we understood God, praying only for knowledge of God's will for us and the power to carry that out. 

11th Promise: We will intuitively know how to handle situations which used to baffle us.

Life is good. 

Miss T and Me

Yesterday was packed full from beginning to end. In my place of worship and fellowship we believe in serving others in our community and also in some of the larger communities nearby.  Naturally, the larger communities are the places that people often don't want to venture to, due to unfamiliarity, notable skin color differences, and fear of crime. And naturally, we like to stay with what's familiar. Why, even in the animal kingdom more often than not, animals seek to be with and stay within their own safety zones and generally the only thing that drives them way out of their own dwelling space is hunger. Hunger drives us. It can't and won't be ignored.

The culture of Facebook is an entity of it's own and you hear of folks who either scoff at it or live and breathe by it.  I like Facebook for a selfish reason ~ 8 siblings.  Some live near and some live far and we've opted to use Facebook as our point of contact.  It seems rather pitiful that this is our mode of operation and yet, when we need to share a concern or celebrate good news, it seems like the best place to make sure we pass the word. A few years ago to my surprise, which has turned into my delight, I came across a childhood friend on Facebook via another friend's account. I saw her name and thought to myself, "that can't be the Karen I know, can it?" so I clicked on her name to see what I could see.

I've mentioned before that Detroit had such a white flight out in the late 60's/early 70's that our secure foundation of family and friends was shaken to its core. Imagine if you will, standing in the midst of a great gathering one minute, but by the time you turned 360 degrees nothing seemed or looked the same. Ninety percent of those familiar faces were gone. We were scattered in all directions and  those who you weren't tightly connected with seemed to have vanished into thin air. So now, nearly 40 years later, when I clicked on her name I read about  a life I didn't know at all.  Her story was so familiar to me now after dealing with an addict in my family and yet it just didn't match the girl I knew from my past. Reading along though, I quickly realized we had a real connection beyond anything I'd known about her before.Suddenly we could talk about recovery and the saving grace of Jesus and truly connect as if not a day without contact had passed between us.

Karen Robak Gates is a biker chick that spent many a year in the streets and on the stuff. She lived in the warmer states for many years doing her thing until one day she called out to her Higher Power and got a clean body and a redeemed soul, too. Forever thankful for what God is doing in her life, she eventually found her way back to Michigan and began a foundation to serve the forgotten, thrown away people in the city we grew up loving, Detroit.  So as I poured over Karen's story and pictures with faces that were so real, my heart was tugged upon to come along side and see what I could do.  A team was formed from my church and we have been going once a month to serve on the sidewalk in front of the decrepit, desolate and deserted train station in Detroit. Where once a grand matriarch stood so proudly, now a forgotten old relative is abandoned and left to die alone. Yet weekly The Ark Association stands on the sidewalks along side her, feeding the hungry and homeless a hot meal right on the sidewalks. There's no shelter from the cold, rain, snow or blistering heat. Shadowy figures come from nowhere like clockwork knowing that someone will be there without fail. It may be the only guarantee they have in life right now that doesn't quit. And although  The Ark Association is not a religious foundation their work is rather Biblical as we give food to the hungry and clothing to the naked, whether friend or foe.

Once a month our team assists their weekly outreach in bringing food and clothing to others who are hungry or need something to wear.  It was there a few weeks ago I met " Miss T".  A woman maybe near 40 whose story involves a history of an abusive husband who is now deceased from cancer, a pit of depression and drug usage and children with children who share her home, which she just received through assistance. Miss T also proudly tells me she is now in college and studying for her finals! But as I heard her story, I realized she has an apartment but not much else. Driving home that day I shared this information with my team and before the weekend was done an array of items were put together for her. A bed with bedding, a couch and tables, a few dishes and a little holiday jar of candy. along with a small artificial Christmas tree. A little basket of items for her three year old granddaughter was gathered as well. Yesterday we delivered these items and met her sons.  We were busy for less than an hour and later on Miss T left me a message stating that she was humbled and blessed to receive these items. We've helped her for a moment, but have been impacted for a lifetime.

The Scriptures never direct us to find out how people got into this situation, although if a friendship is cultivated that may come up.  It just directs us to share what we have. Maybe we weren't directed to ask because that would put us in a judging frame of mind and that's a place where I surely don't belong.

Ministry and service work go hand in hand. One meets the physical need and one meets the spiritual need and I'd say the giver gains more from the exchange than the receiver any day.  


God bless you and keep you, Miss T.