Sweet Surrender
So we're ready to take on the world, at least to take the next step. That's when it hits. Or rather we hit it.
The wall.
Suddenly the path that looked so clear, so easy, so laid out in front of us disappears. Just a little glitch, we think. We take another run at it.
It's still there.
Must be me, we think. I'll try a little harder. Get this problem under control. We may mumble a few words to a Higher Power, something about needing help, but essentially we're praying for enough steam to ram into and run through that wall, sometimes chanting the mantra My will be done all the way.
I wish I could tell you there is a way to avoid this wall-banging, head-bumping vortex of chaos, but if there is, I haven't found it.
It's a dirty dust devil of self-will.
Hearing that we're powerless over people, places, and things (such as alcohol and other drugs) and intellectually understanding that concept is one thing. Experiencing powerlessness is another.
I didn't surrender to my powerlessness over alcohol and drugs because I wanted to. I surrendered because I had to, because I was worn out, because I couldn't keep going anymore. I went down hard.
One morning, a friend called to see whether I had solved a problem I was struggling with. "Yup," I said. "I told God last night that whatever happened was okay with me." I was willing to do whatever God wanted. And I meant it.
"Oh that," she said gently. "Sweet surrender."
"Yeah," I said. "It's sweet . . . now."
Surrender. The place that those of us on a spiritual path call home.
So we're ready to take on the world, at least to take the next step. That's when it hits. Or rather we hit it.
The wall.
Suddenly the path that looked so clear, so easy, so laid out in front of us disappears. Just a little glitch, we think. We take another run at it.
It's still there.
Must be me, we think. I'll try a little harder. Get this problem under control. We may mumble a few words to a Higher Power, something about needing help, but essentially we're praying for enough steam to ram into and run through that wall, sometimes chanting the mantra My will be done all the way.
I wish I could tell you there is a way to avoid this wall-banging, head-bumping vortex of chaos, but if there is, I haven't found it.
It's a dirty dust devil of self-will.
Hearing that we're powerless over people, places, and things (such as alcohol and other drugs) and intellectually understanding that concept is one thing. Experiencing powerlessness is another.
I didn't surrender to my powerlessness over alcohol and drugs because I wanted to. I surrendered because I had to, because I was worn out, because I couldn't keep going anymore. I went down hard.
One morning, a friend called to see whether I had solved a problem I was struggling with. "Yup," I said. "I told God last night that whatever happened was okay with me." I was willing to do whatever God wanted. And I meant it.
"Oh that," she said gently. "Sweet surrender."
"Yeah," I said. "It's sweet . . . now."
Surrender. The place that those of us on a spiritual path call home.
Kerotati
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