Good morning all,
Let me start by saying that I hope everyone that was or is in ear shot of hurricane Hermine weathered the storm with minimal or no loss to property, pets, or people. Earlier this year my beautiful wife, Desiree, assigned me the less than desirous task of assembling a mid-sized bookcase to adorn our spare bedroom after a modest renovation. I thought I had this mapped out like a Sherpa from the mountainous region of Nepal embarking on his 100th trip to the top of Everest. As we shopped, knowing that I would be thrust into the role of handyman extraordinaire, I examined all of her choices like a primary care physician does when he or she sees a patient for the first time. I must admit, I was not looking particularly for something that might complement the new bone colored Levelor blinds or the Marlin Sand colored tile that the contractor had laid days earlier. I was looking for simplicity because although I have five digits on each hand, half of them are thumbs. I, well she, picked out a quaint yet simple style to accentuate the positives of the room (whatever that means). I breathed a sigh of relief like a student does when a mid-term exam is finished when I saw the clerk wheel the corrugated box of faux-wood from the stockroom. I could fit it in the trunk of my mid-sized car, which in my not so sophisticated mind, surely meant that it was a cinch to assemble. I tipped Lloyd, the clerk that had assured me that I could put this thing together standing on my head. After getting home, I wrestled the box through the garage and into the house like Rick Flair does to his opponent in a caged-heavyweight championship bout. I opened up the box with confidence as I strategically started placing “like” parts in tactical areas of the living room. Soon, I ran out of front room, as my mama used to call it, and I was now staging parts in the master bedroom. The parts kept coming out of the box like circus clowns from a Volkswagen. Cam nuts, cam locks, dowels, screws, nuts, pegs, nails, bolts, and glue (glue?) were spread over the breakfast bar like pebbles in a rock garden. My saving grace was the wadded up piece of paper in the bottom of the box that read, “some assembly required”. Twelve hours, two skinned knees, and more times than I care to mention of dismantling and reassembling (correctly) parts, the shelf was placed in the room with all the pride of William F. Lamb, one of the architects of the Empire State Building. As I lay in bed that night, I wondered why something so simple could be so hard? And then I thanked God for my sobriety, as usual, and wondered aloud, why can something so hard be so simple? Like a deer foraging in the woods for food, we as addicts tend to look for the fruiting body of a subterranean Ascomycete fungus (a truffle), when the bread of life is often times staring us in the face, dangling inches from our grips like apples from an overgrown tree. Yes, the truffle is a delicacy but the apple is plentiful and more nourishing and new life thrives on this natural bounty. The road to recovery begins when you dummy up and throw away the complicated instruction manual. Keep God first in all you do, put family first ( a surrogate family will do if you’ve burned bridges), secure a sponsor, find a Bible teaching church, and give back. If you integrate these five simple things into your life, you will be able to put your life back together and guess what? No assembly is required!
