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I was at a meeting recently where we read the April 21 passage from Daily Reflections, one of my favorite recovery books. It’s an awesome little 60-second jolt every day (check it out here). If I’m having a rough day, sometimes I’ll scroll through a couple of them, and it helps.
In that April 21 passage, titled “Cultivating Faith,” it mentions the word practice. Repeatedly. I latched onto that concept, because I need as much practice as possible. And yet… who likes practice?!?! Can’t we just play the games?
But the truth is, I don’t roll out of bed wanting to do the things I need to do. I’m still an alcoholic who catches himself staring at beer commercials jussssssssssst a bit too long. I still am inherently selfish and self-centered, with a tendency to BS people (including myself).
So yeah, my factory settings aren’t great. And that means I need to practice.
I have found the best indicator of whether I will do the next right thing at 1 p.m. is if I did the right thing at 10 a.m., 11 a.m. and noon. That’s practice.
And when it comes to those really difficult, unexpected things that can pop up out of the ground and throw me off… I REALLY need to be on a winning streak of spirituality. It’s a little bonkers of me to think that I can have a few days, or a week, where I am ranting and raving and being judgey and gossipy and sugarcoating and people-pleasing and short-tempered… and then just be ready to wrestle with something truly threatening to my sobriety. It doesn’t work that way for me.
I think about Tom Brady—that dude still shows up at practice every single day. He’s won the past, what, 31 Super Bowls? He’s got MVP trophies. Super Bowl rings. He knows how to play football, knows the playbook, knows his teammates, knows the rules. And yet he still shows up at practice, presumably because the best way to set yourself up for a great Sunday game is if you have a great Friday practice.
I need to have that kind of momentum in sobriety. And as daunting as it may sound, I have to make sure I do everything I can to never lose that momentum. I’ve tried taking breathers from recovery work and it doesn’t work for me. I remember hearing somebody say at a meeting that recovery is like walking up a down escalator and oh boy, I get that.
One specific area where I need to practice and practice and practice: humility. It’s so easy to think “I’ve got this figured out” or “I’ll figure it out,” and that goes beyond sobriety, too. It’s just a dangerous phrase for me because it indicates that I am relying upon myself more than something spiritual and outside of me. I at least need to invite my recovery program into situations like that.
I had a recent reminder of that as I watched my youngest daughter kick butt at soccer. She loves playing and is getting quite good. It’s a real blast to watch her out there scoring goals and chasing down kids on defense. Perhaps a little TOO much of a blast, I found out.
When the pandemic began, we started playing soccer in the backyard. The whole family was involved, but I also played a lot of one-on-one with her. At the beginning, I was too big and strong, so I could be emailing people and still keep the ball away from her. But she kept working and working and working, to the point where I basically didn’t mow the grass back there all summer—that’s how much turf we chewed up with our feet practicing soccer.
And she got really good. It started showing up this year on the field—she’s scoring 5-10 goals per game right now.
The good part of that is, it’s a beautiful gift of sobriety to see your kid do well at something they care about and know you were a guest star in that movie.
The bad part of that is when you, uh, start planning for the World Cup and the inevitable Dad of the Year ceremony in your honor.
I had a moment at a recent game of hers where she was doing her thing, it was awesome to watch and I was feeling a little braggy deep down… when my foot caught and I just about ate it in front of 50 people. I caught myself before I completely went face down in the grass but I had to get a little jog going to steady myself.
I took a quick look around and was thinking, “Nobody saw that, right?”
Rest assured, EVERYBODY saw it—50 people in masks and lawn chairs, looking at the Dad of the Year biff and do an impromptu stumble-jog to try to cover it up.
I’m at least able to laugh and recognize those moments for what they are, which is a humility reminder. Do I wish I didn’t need to visit Humiliationville to get to Humility Town? Yes, I do. But I’ll take whatever guidance the universe can give me, and that feels like I may need to keep practicing!
ALCOHOLIC JOKE OF THE DAY
This newsletter is a place of joy and laughter about the deadly serious business of sobriety. So, as I will often do, let me close with a joke.
A sponsor and her sponsee are stranded on a deserted island. They come upon a wishing well, and the sponsor drops a rock down into it and says, “I wish I were back with my homegroup.”
Poof! She disappears.
The newcomer sponsee pauses for a moment and thinks, “What should I wish for? Money? A mansion? Oh, what do I do? I wish my sponsor were here.”
Poof…
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