Good morning Readers,
According to Rick Warren author of A Purpose Driven Life, today the average life span is 25,550 days. I decided to do some meaningful math and what I found was staggering. I had been drinking and/or drugging for over half of my estimated days on this earth. I checked my calculations, more than once or twice, because 13,140 days of medicating myself was mind numbing. So, I decided to optimistically look at it as I have the opportunity to be sober for about half of my life, and even more so, the better half of my life, a time where a grim existence can be used for the next generation and my testimonies will be a glimmer of hope for those in desperate search for anything to keep them afloat. Today, I do look behind me at times to see the progress that has been made, but most of my time is spent looking ahead at what God has in store for me. Let’s just face it, if you keep looking into the rearview mirror at some point you’re going to collide with the car in front of you. I have found over the years, that the reason people give up so fast is because they tend to look at how far they still have to go, instead of how far they have gotten. I was once told, “just because you got the monkey off your back doesn’t mean that the circus has left town.” So, when you come to terms with your past offenses and be the change you desire to see in the world. The journey, though not obstacle free, will be navigable, negotiable and passable. This is an excerpt from the book that tells of a small journey that was of miracle proportions in my quest to redirect my life and getting my Driver’s License reinstated. The DMV offices were not on the bus route so I decided to rent one of the “loaner” bicycles from the rehabilitation center. As I headed west on Beach Blvd the wind was blowing in an Easterly direction at what seemed to be hurricane force. As I pumped and pumped the pedals of the old rusty Schwinn 10 speed seemingly getting nowhere, my first inclination was to abort this mission and call a cab. But, in what I will call a “recovery moment”, I replayed the tape in my mind when nothing short of a nuclear holocaust would stop me from seeking out a hit of crack or a sip of Colt 45. I hit the rewind button and remembered walking in torrential downpours with no umbrella, running 10 miles in the dead of Summer, scaling my mom’s backyard fence and ripping the flesh until I could see the white meat of my leg and instead of going for treatment, I got high. I looked down at my battle wound that I still carry today, shifted the bike into a lower gear and peddled with all my might. The normal 20 minute trip took me over 2 hours to complete. After receiving my coveted piece of documentation from the State of Florida, the wind was now at my back and I made it home in 15 minutes. The journey of life is a marathon and not a sprint, it can be cruel and kind, tough but sweet.
