Reflection 2007

"An optimist stays up until midnight to see the new year in. A pessimist stays up to make sure the old year leaves" ~ Bill Vaughn

Ringing in a New Year is a tradition that is often filled with celebration. Some of us host parties, are invited to the homes of friends, go out to lavish galas, drink too much champagne and set off fireworks. It is a time to say goodbye and a time to look forward for possibilities. For some others of us it is a time of feeling apart, a time of regrets and resentments, a time to look at what might be coming next with dread. How can this occsdion present such pairs of opposites?

Perhaps we put a little too much emphasis on the endings and beginnings of this annual calendar change…and perhaps not. It is a chance to look at who we are and who we are becoming. It is an opportunity to make changes, offer amends and clean up our mistakes. We can do a lot more than list our resolutions. This is the perfect time to make a spiritual adjustment. Let’s really begin to slow down and live a day at a time. Come to terms with the fact that the past is what it is and that the future is not a reality. Get up in the morning with a clear plan to “do the next right thing” in every situation that we face…and when we don’t…make the adjustment, clear the air and move along. This is how life becomes the celebration that God intends for us to enjoy.

My resolution this year is to truly live a day at a time

A Christmas Memory

Bondurant Place, DeLand, Illinois

Christmas, for me, is among other things a time of fond remembering. Some of my most vivid memories are of the late 1950s and early 1960s celebrations at the country home of the Trenchards, my uncle and aunt, in Deland, Illinois. In the middle of the endless Central Illinois farmland sat Bondurant Place. Named for Uncle Wendell's grandfather, it was nestled among hundreds of trees with a winding driveway. Truly a festive gathering place for my granddad, his nine children and their families.

I remember waking up early to see what Santa brought to our house at 18 West Winter in Danville. Mom and Dad were in their robes and we opened presents and hugged and laughed. It was hard to get me away without taking a favorite something to go on the road to Deland. But by the time we got to Champaign on two lane, snow packed roads, I was anticipating the event at Bondurant Place!

Wendell Trenchard and Bobby Jones

Uncle Wendell would be HO! HO! HOing at a door wrapped with an image of Santa! Aunt Helen would gleefully shriek at our arrival almost as if she didn’t know we were coming. "They're Here! They're Here!" they would exclaim. We were always the first to arrive...except that cousin Joan, her husband Taylor and the boys had spent the night...and had Christmas Eve together. The oldest son, Bon, would be down at the trains in the basement. I was so excited I could burst. People would start coming almost in order! Granddad and his companion Mavie were next, then Aunt Beulah, and then everyone else almost at once and then.....Aunt Nellie, Uncle Lester, Irene and Sarah! Always last...always anticipated with joy! Everyone received the happy "They're Here!" greeting. The smells of turkey and goodies filled the house. The cousins and cousins played and played mostly downstairs. There was no need for lots of toys...but there were plenty of them. We just delighted in each other. We shot each other with Ack Ack Guns, played with the best model train set in the world, looked for spooks in the coal bin, explored the unknown....Every now and then one of the parents or uncles or aunts ventured down for a minute. They knew that we were OK but just wanted to share in the fun! My older cousins could only resist for awhile. We usually got them involved without much struggle!

Grand Dad Jones and some of his brood

Then came the call! Dinner was ready. All of the adults sat at the big table and the younger members at the children’s table. As people moved or died you graduated to the adult table. I never made it. The littlest kids sat in the adjacent sun room next to the kitchen and the older kids sat at the table in the hallway. Everyone hushed and Uncle Wendell called for order. Aunt Nellie said the blessing. Then we got in to the feast. What a feast it always was! Turkey, dressing (traditional and oyster), cranberries, mashed potatoes, green beans, rolls, fancy butter....place cards at every seat made by Aunt Cil....Oh Boy! When the main course was done we got to have special frozen Santa ice cream made just for us and Hickory Nut Cake (We all LOVE Hickory Nut Cake).

There was short a play time while we waited for the next tradition. In a few minutes we would all line up according to age and put our hands on the right shoulder in front of us. Sarah was always in front of me. Granddad Jones was first and held the long strand of Jingle Bells. Uncle Wendell would fire up his lights and movie camera. Then we marched through the house singing "Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle All The Way". Opening presents took forever! Someone would play Santa and bring a present one at a time. The relative would open it and we would all go "Oooh and Ahhh". Then the next one.

FINALLY...we could go and play again! It was back to the basement. Uncle Lester would fall asleep on the couch. The Moms would clean up and the other Dads would play gin rummy. This would be story time in by the fireplace in the basement. I would start with the most horrible ghost story that I had learned that year. Usually Strawn, Penn, Danny, or Debbie would sit on my lap. The room would hush. Terror would fill the room!

Helen Trenchard and Mary Timmons

Now the call would come again! Aunt Helen would have made a special bag of goodies and leftovers for each family. It was time to go home. Sometimes I wanted to cry...but usually I was eager to get home to tell my buddies about "what I got". I could never relate to them that "what I got" at Bondurant Place was more important and more fun than anything that came in a beautifully wrapped box. It was dark and there was snow hanging on every branch. I fell asleep in the back seat of our Chrysler. Happy Family....Happy Christmas

Christmas and Winter Solstice

“Then the wolf shall be a guest of the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid; The calf and the young lion shall browse together, with a little child to lead them.

The cow and the bear shall be neighbors, together their young shall rest; the lion shall eat hay like the ox.
The baby shall play by the cobra's den, and the child lay his hand on the adder's lair.

There shall be no harm or ruin on all my holy mountain; for the earth shall be filled with knowledge of the LORD, as water covers the sea.”

Today, the winter solstice, is a celebration of light. It is the beginning of Winter in the Northern Hemisphere and of Summer in the Southern Hemisphere. There have been festivals throughout history which mark this “triumph of the sun” since ancient times. Light and illumination are the focus of attention as the seasons give us hope for tomorrow.

It is no coincidence that this is the week of Christmas. We have been marking the days of Advent in anticipation of the miracle of renewed birth. This is our time of joy. The whole atmosphere is infused with joy. Once again we are given the opportunity to do the right thing in response to this light, illumination, hope and joy of Christmas.

How does Jesus appear to young people who die of AIDS, to the millions without employment and social dignity…when children are physically and sexually abused…when women continue in many cultures as subordinates…when ethnic slaughter goes on in Africa, Europe and Asia…when the Earth is ravaged by our excesses? How does light and joy come to these? Jesus, the light of the world comes in the guise of YOU. We have the renewed chance for reconciliation with those who suffer. It is our opening to offer relief to our brothers and sisters who experience material, emotional, social, moral and physical poverty.

How can I illuminate life for others? How can I bring joy, hope and light to the world?

An Advent Thought

It is "the most wonderful time of the year". Johnny Mathis reminded me of this with his traditional Christmas Carol on my way to work today. This is the season of Advent. The practice of observing Advent is one that is practiced by many Christians throughout the world. It is all about anticipation. It is about finding the gift in each day. What a good thing to remember as we rush to Christmas.

One day, an old friend from high school days called me on the phone. He was going through a difficult time and wondering if and when things would ever turn around and improve. I knew he was in a lot of pain. I didn't know then that he was considering suicide.

"You are in the helping profession," he said, "If you could give a person only one thing to help them...what would it be?"

I thought carefully about his question; then I replied, "It's not one thing. It's two: gratitude and letting go." Gratitude for everything, not just the things we consider good or a blessing. And letting go of everything we can't change.

A few years passed and my friend called me again. His life had turned around. Two very large problems he was facing at that time sorted themselves out. The actual process of facing and working on these problems helped him redirect the course of his life.

Someone once asked the artist Georgia O'Keeffe why her paintings magnified the size of small objects, like the petals on a flower making them appear larger than life, and reduced the size of large objects like mountains, making them smaller than life.

"Everyone sees the big things," she said. "But these smaller things are so beautiful and people might not notice them if I didn't emphasize them."

That's the way it is with gratitude and letting go. It's easy to see the problems in our lives. They're like mountains. But sometimes we overlook the smaller things; we don't notice how truly beautiful they are.

If you're going to make anything bigger than life, let it be the power and simplicity of these two tools: gratitude and letting go.

God, teach me to use gratitude and letting go to reduce the size of my problems.

Autumn Reflection...A Fulfillment Of The Promises

The entire summer passed without an entry in this blog. No reflections, musings or meditations. It was not that I was lacking content or too busy. The fact is that I was celebrating summer and early fall, celebrating life…just celebrating. My wife, Bonita, and I were able to take two of our grown children to Maui for two weeks. My business grew and promised to expand beyond my dreams. We went to an October Chicago playoff game at Wrigley Field. These things would not have been possible seven years ago.

In October 2000, at age 49, I had just completed a four month residential alcohol and drug treatment program at Talbott Recovery Campus in Atlanta. My addictions had ravaged my life and the lives of my family for more than twenty years. I lost everything more than once in that time…my first marriage, the relationship with my children, jobs, finances…and on and on. My counselors told me that I would never work in my field (addiction services) again. It was a time of starting over. But things get better and miracles happen in recovery. Sometimes quickly and sometimes slowly…healing occurred in every facet of my life. Family reunited and happy…financially secure (if there is such a thing)…career restored...it all came together.

There we were, sitting in the famed bleachers at The Friendly Confines of Wrigley field in October. I am a life-long fan of The Chicago Cubs. My daughter Courtney, wife Bonita and I sported newly purchased Cub clothes as we gazed out at the bright green newly planted turf towards the historic home plate where Babe Ruth defiantly “called his shot”. We could almost see Ron Santo in the announcers booth, animated and thrilled…as we all were. The rowdy bleacher bums, plump delicious hot dogs, perfect weather and post season baseball on The North Side…Priceless. In the words of Harry Carey and my counselor Jim Weigel (he is also Commissioner of The Northern League of Professional Baseball by the way)…”Whoda Thunk It”.

The Promises that they talk about in Alcoholics Anonymous seemed unreal to me. Unimaginable! They may have been written in good faith, and someone might have experienced such recovery but I was sure that they would not happen for me. I include them here for all who believe as I did. They are written for you.

If we are painstaking about this phase of our development, we will be amazed before we are half way through.

(1) We are going to know a new freedom and a new happiness.
(2) We will not regret the past nor wish to shut the door on it.
(3) We will comprehend the word serenity and we will know peace.
(4) No matter how far down the scale we have gone, we will see how our experience can benefit others.
(5) That feeling of uselessness and self-pity will disappear.
(6) We will lose interest in selfish things and gain interest in our fellows.
(7) Self-seeking will slip away.
(8) Our whole attitude and outlook upon life will change.
(9) Fear of people and of economic insecurity will leave us.
(10) We will intuitively know how to handle situations which used to baffle us.
(11) We will suddenly realize that God is doing for us what we could not do for ourselves.
(12) Are these extravagant promises? We think not. They are being fulfilled among us—sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly. They will always materialize if we work for them.

Recovery is rich and rewarding. It restores and enriches life. I highly recommend it.

A Midsummer Dream of Celebration

Today marks the first day of summer…known as the summer solstice or Midsummer. It is a time of the celebration and the triumph of light over darkness. The sun is at it’s peak in the Northern Hemisphere. It is a time of picnics. My family would gather at these annual events and afterwards reminisce that loved ones “ came from far and wide with well filled baskets, and a good time was had by all”. Traditionally this is a time of life and love…in appreciation of the certainty of today. Shakespeare wrote “A Midsummer Nights Dream” with these famous lines:


"I know a bank whereon the
wild thyme blows,


Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows


Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,


With sweet musk-roses, and with eglantine:

There sleeps Titania some time of the night,
Lull’d in these flowers with dances and delight"


Have we forgotten the celebration of life amid the tragedy of war and fear of others…news stories that proclaim the insanity of the day? It is time to reclaim our Midsummer victory over night! One of my favorite visions from Hollywood is that of an elegantly dressed Rosalind Russell giving instructions to the timid Miss Gooch in the 1958 movie Auntie Mame. She is standing on the stairway and bellows “Live! That is the message! Live...Live...Live...Life is a banquet and most poor suckers are starving to death."

Let’s take today and cast out the darkness of gloom. Get a basket and fill it up. Grab up some friends and go for a drive to the park. Count your blessings and give thanks. Live…Live…Live!

You Are Loved ~ A Story In Three Parts

There is so much wisdom to be gained in life. The teachers present themselves all along the pathway. Sometimes we pay attention and sometimes we don't. But the lessons continue. This three part story is written in an attempt to tell you about the most important information that I have ever received and the one who imparted it to me.

Part 1 ~ Michael's Struggle

I have a friend and teacher named Michael Sessom. There have been many times in which I considered the possibility that he was an angel sent to provide light for my journey.

The first time I met him was at Bridgeway, a hospital based treatment center for alcohol and drug dependence. I was the Clinical Coordinator there and made it a point to get to work early so that I could go to the cafeteria and have coffee with the patients. Michael had been admitted the day before and was sitting at a table looking much the same as people who were struggling with the first twenty four hours of alcohol withdrawal. He was alone and I sat down next to him. He agreed to stop by my office for an assessment later in the day. It turned out that this was not the first treatment episode for Michael. His disease of addiction was complicated with Muscular Dystrophy, he had periods of deep loneliness and depression and was an “out of the closet” gay man. His hands trembled visibly from withdrawal. He just seemed pathetic and my prognosis for him was not good.

I arrived at my usual early hour the next day. There was laughter coming from the cafeteria at 6:00 in the morning. Real belly laughing. The patients and nurses were all sitting around tables and Michael was holding court. He was in the midst of telling a tale that had everyone in stitches. I got some coffee, sat down and enjoyed the spell that he had cast upon what was usually a somber time of the day. From that day on, he led the other patients like the Pied Piper. Everyone loved him including the staff. The joy and laughter that he spread were unbelievable. Not only that…he was a deeply spiritual man with great insight. His words of wisdom were often profound and his counsel was frequently sought. The exploration of his own difficulties was equally intense. He spent long sessions with Corinne Gerwe, his counselor, looking in to the cause of his destructive behavior patterns. His graduation from treatment was touching. He received the Bridgeway recovery medallion and made a wonderful speech to us all. I was amazed at his transformation.

A year or so later I got a phone call from Michael. He experienced a relapse and had just completed another addiction treatment on the other side of the state. He said that he had found the answers that he had been seeking and asked me a question to which I could hardly agree. He had nowhere to go and wanted to move in with me so that I could be his spiritual counsel and director. I balked and asked him to call me back later in the day. The executive director, his former counselor and I got together to discuss the matter. They said that there were no ethical reasons that he couldn’t move in since it had been more than a year since his treatment at Bridgeway. I was surprised to get an approval from these folks on Michael’s request. The “risk” of rumors and assumptions that would be made by living with a gay man somehow seemed irrelevant. Michael moved in to my mountain cabin called “Touchstones” several days later. Muscular Dystrophy and alcoholism had caused serious wasting. His clothes practically fell off of him and he looked terrible.