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.

You Are Loved

Part Two ~ A Course In Miracles

Miracles happened at Touchstones. Michael followed an enriched nutrition program that I prescribed. He spent long hours on the deck which stretched out near a musical little stream that flowed through our woods. He read, wrote in his journal and recovered. He gained weight and his strength fully returned. Within only a few weeks I found Michael working in the gardens and landscaping. Muscle tone was returning to his arms and legs. This is not something that usually happens with Muscular Dystrophy. One day I came home to find him carrying large rocks (Michael called them boulders) that weighed at least 40 pounds. He began working at Bridgeway as a “fifth step” volunteer and assumed an important role in my regular spiritual retreats for patients and alumni. Counselors were calling him to meet with patients who were deeply distressed and difficult to reach. Michael became active in weekend “Gatherings of Men” at Touchstones that I had been leading for some time. It was not long before he had a rather large following of people who were moved by his deep spiritual messages of love, hope and forgiveness. I was fast becoming his student rather than teacher. The beliefs that he passed on were entirely inclusive. They mixed his Baptist upbringing (Michael’s father was a pastor), Catholic teachings (he converted to Roman Catholicism), Native American spirituality and Buddhism. He had a deep belief in angels and a sense of connection with eternity. He spoke with such conviction that people were immediately drawn to him.

Months passed and I began to long for my personal space, privacy and solitude that Touchstones had provided prior to Michael’s arrival. He was doing so well and it was time to move on. We had some discussions about the subject, and ultimately, he moved to a mountain retreat where he was an assistant to a local minister. I soon relocated to a small house in town closer to the treatment center and life went on.

Michael became an occasional visitor. He spent some time at Corrine and David Gerwe’s home in Saluda, NC. He and his parents had reconciled after years of misunderstanding. Michael left the mountains to spend time at home with them in order to heal family wounds. The truth is that his health was beginning to decline. He called one day to ask for a weekend with me and I agreed. Several of his followers had been asking for him and it seemed like a good time to make connections with them. I was surprised when he said that he was too weak to see them. One of the young men was so desperate for his counsel that I pressed him. Michael was very fond of the boy and agreed to have a session. His arrival at my house on Friday was sobering. Michael was practically skin and bones. Most of his weekend was spent sleeping on my sofa. We talked about Touchstones and how well he had recovered there. His voice was weak and his limbs were shaky.

I went to another part of town to pick up Jason, Michael’s student, on Sunday. Jason was excited about seeing Michael and had developed what seemed to be dozens of spiritual questions for discussion. I explained that Michael was not well and tried to prepare him for what he would find when we arrived at the house. Jason was undaunted. Michael was sitting on the couch with an Indian blanket around his shoulders when we arrived. He glanced up at Jason and smiled. We exchanged some greetings and Michael remained silent. Jason began to ask some questions that were important to him. Michael gestured with his hand to stop and then put his finger to his lips. He struggled to his feet and Jason rose with him. Michael put his shaky hand on Jason’s shoulder and said “the only information you need is that you are loved”. He sat back on the couch, lay down and covered himself with his blanket. He said “Goodbye, Jason”, and we left. I immediately began to apologize to the young man who had expected deep conversations filled with wisdom and direction. Jason stopped me and said this…"Michael's right, Bob! That IS the only information I need…and it's the only information that you need too”. Nothing else was said. I dropped him off and returned to my place. Michael was asleep. I had to leave early for work in the morning and when I came home for lunch he had already left for his parent’s house. He left a short note thanking me for the weekend and asked if he could come back in a couple of weeks.

You Are Loved

Part Three ~ Angels and Eagles

I called Michael several days after his visit respond to his request for another weekend. Frankly, I was not all that receptive to the idea at that point. His parents were out of town and a neighbor who came by to help him in the morning answered the phone. She said that she came by to make some breakfast for Michael. She had summoned 911 responders just minutes before my call. “I didn’t know who else to call” she hesitated. “Michael is dead.” This kind of news is so terrible to receive. I was stunned, guilty and sad. I went back to Bridgeway and telephoned to let people know what had happened. Several of us went to the funeral. His words and wisdom had helped so many people. There was a profound sense of emptiness and unfinished business. Michael had often told me that he would find a way to communicate with us that the messages of angels, love and forgiveness were true when he made it “to the other side”. He would send an eagle or an angel to bring the news. It was easy to believe him when he said things like that. There was no doubt in his voice when he delivered these kinds of statements and he taught with complete conviction. How I wished right then that such an assertion could be true.

I was conducting a Bridgeway retreat weekend two weeks after Michael’s death. One of the women who registered for the event became upset during the greeting session. She told me that this was not a good time for her and that she was going home. Hours later she called to say that everything was fine and that she had been instructed to call and tell me what had happened. Her journey led her through the Chimney Rock community and she was feeling drained and depressed. She stopped at a Native American store that sold relics and souvenirs made by local Indians. This is what she told me.“

I had to stop at the store and I wasn’t sure why. When I stepped in the door a mild sweet odor of incense greeted me. There was an Indian man who seemed in charge of the store that said hello to me as I wandered around. He walked over and asked what was troubling me. For some reason I began to weep and could only sob out a few desperate words. He put his hand on my shoulder and told me to go out the back door and walk down the steps that led to the little stream below. He said that I would find my answers. I did what he told me and sat there for almost an hour. A calmness overcame me and peace seemed to flow in. It was hard to leave but I thought that it was time to go on. I started up the steps and when I looked up there was a figure standing at the top with his arms opened in an inviting gesture of embrace. For some reason I just fell into the loving arms of the man who told me to go to the stream. He said this. “The only information you need is that you are loved”. Then he told me to call the one from whom I came and tell him the story. Call Bob? I asked. He smiled and said yes. He didn’t say, but I am sure that his name is Michael."

How do you explain such thing? You cannot. There were other “Michael sightings” reported to me in the following weeks. I was somewhat miffed that I had not personally received a visit. I mean...After all! I was taking a teenaged boy on a ride through the mountains so that he could present his “Second Step” to me. The step says “We came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity”. He was a wounded child who had suffered terrible abuse. The work had not been easy for him. He was recounting his new feelings of hopefulness as we drove down the beautiful mountains south of Saluda when a gold eagle dramatically swooped down at the car barely missing the windshield and soared off into the sky. There wasn’t even time to hit the brakes. My breath was restored and I uttered a “Wow”. The kid looked at me and said “That was Michael”. He had heard some stories but had never met him. “Do you think so?” I asked. He stared at me and replied with the incredulous tone that only a teenager can summon “Well…Yeah”

I could go on and on with this. But I will say it as clearly as I can. Michael told me to tell you. The only information you need is that you are loved.

Tragic Losses

April has delivered a sobering reminder of our frailty. It takes only a moment to shift from celebration to mourning. The events of last Monday at Virginia Tech are impossible to comprehend. I was also reminded by Matt, a student who is fast becoming a teacher, that we were approaching the anniversary of the April 20, 1999 killings in Columbine.

There is little solace in times of such tragic loss. How sad it is that such things happen. I read the profiles of each of the victims in Blacksburg. Their pictures showed people so filled with life. I was especially taken by the grin of a young man named Jarrett Lane. Jarrett, his classmates and teachers, were taken in horrific fashon and the shared grief of strangers throughout the world cannot bring relief. This community of compassion presents those who loved him a sense, at least. that they are not alone in their suffering. Jarrett’s infectious smile reminds me of a poem by Robert Louis Stevenson called “In Memoriam”. It is my offering to all who mourn this young man and those who died with him. May peace be with you.

YET, O stricken heart, remember, O remember
How of human days he lived the better part.
April came to bloom and never dim December
Breathed its killing chills upon the head or heart.

Doomed to know not Winter, only Spring, a being
Trod the flowery April blithely for awhile,
Took his fill of music, joy of thought and seeing,
Came and stayed and went, nor ever ceased to smile.

Came and stayed and went, and now when all is finished,
You alone have crossed the melancholy stream,
Yours the pang, but his, O his, the undiminished
Undecaying gladness, undeparted dream.

All that life contains of torture, toil, and treason,
All that life contains of torture, toil, and treason,
Here, a boy, he dwelt through all the singing season
And ere the day of sorrow departed as he came