Wash over me

God it's great to be back home. I never thought I'd feel this way about Columbia, SC. But there it is. Although it was really nice to get out of town for a few days and spend some quality time with an amazing friend I was really ready to get back here. I got to my apartment in downtown Columbia around 2:30pm and by 3:30pm I was at my parents' house. My mom met me at the door and we gave each other a long, loving embrace. She's much shorter than me and just melted into my arms. I could smell her hair and feel it brushing against my whiskered face. Two of my dad's sisters were at the house also and I can't say enough how wonderful it is to have them here.

Backing up a bit when I was at my apartment I got down on my knees and prayed. This is not novel for me. I do it at least twice a day and have been doing this since I got sober. God only knows what kind of shape I'd be in right now if it weren't for the spiritual awakening I've had as a result of working the 12 steps of Alcoholics Anonymous and practicing the principles in my day to day life. Alone at last in my apartment after having spent the past 4-5 days with a constant companion I let go and let the tears flow. Crying is such an intense emotional response to reality. It is as if your entire body gives way to the pain. I'm well-accustomed to pain, physical, mental, spiritual, psychological. I'm very familiar. Getting sober has taught me all about pain. In my life I had never experienced so much pain, at such great length and intensity as when I got sober. The entire first year of sobriety was a nightmarish, otherworldly experience for me. I learned how to acknowledge the pain, to greet it, to experience it as a wave of feeling. I allowed it to wash over me in waves. Planting my feet on the ground I learned to steady myself. When it all got to be too much I learned to drop to my knees and reach out to God. I learned to cast the burden of my pain on the cross. I learned to invite God into my life, not just when I was hurting, although that is how I began to know Him, but also when things were going well. All this experience has served me well in the ensuing years after that first awful year of continuous sobriety.

So this afternoon I knew what I needed to do. I got on my knees and prayed. I cannot reproduce here my prayers and wouldn't even if I could. Prayer to me is an intensely personal dialogue between myself and my maker. It is an acknowledgement of my own limitation and the vast and infinite nature of God. It is often a cry for help, a desperate plea for direction, a humble appeal for strength. And strength is what I focused my prayers on today. I asked for strength. I asked for bravery. I asked for love, compassion, courage. My body convulsed with the pain as memories of my father flipped through the cinema of my psyche. Prayer is the most powerful tool on earth. It is summoning the divine. When done properly, with earnestness, humility, willingness and acceptance prayer can and does change things.

As I walked down the hallway of my boyhood home to my father's room I felt the fruit of my prayer begin to take effect. I entered the room and found my father in a hospital bed with oxygen tubes feeding air into his lungs via his nostrils. I went to him, laid my hands upon him, smiled and caressed his withered body. I'd only been gone less than a week and he's lost even more weight. His body is beginning to look like the photos and films I've seen of concentration camp victims in Nazi Germany. The muscle is rapidly disappearing and all that is left in its wake is loose skin and beneath, brittle bone. He was awake and somewhat alert. I sat beside him and took his hand in mine. I stroked his skin and whispered loving words into his ear. I felt reality bloom all around me and the amazing presence of God lift me up and bring strength and courage to my spirit. Words fail to express the gravity of these moments. And they also fail to express the profound gratitude I have for the time I've had with him. We choose our thoughts and our thoughts create our lives. Instead of choosing to be angry that my father is being taken from me I am choosing to be grateful for ever having him at all. Instead of choosing to be fearful and afraid I am choosing to be trusting and full of faith. Instead of choosing to be weak I am choosing to be strong. These types of choices have been nothing short of revolutionary in my life. Before having a spiritual awakening I was constantly blown about by the circumstances of my life. I was a rudderless ship, drifting aimlessly in a sea of doubt, fear and frustration. God has righted my ship, tightened the sails, set the course. I don't often share these spiritual facts about my life with such candor. But the single-most important aspect of my life is the fact that I believe in God and that everyday I invite God into my life to do what He will with me. The God I believe in is all love, all power, all mercy, all forgiveness, all compassion, all grace, all patience, all kindness.

As I sat there this afternoon beside my dying father I invited the divine into the room with us. And He came. My father would open his eyes to find me sitting there beside him smiling, his hand in mine. I listened to his labored breath, watched the rise and fall of his chest and was inexpressibly grateful for him. I know he won't be with us for much longer, it may be hours, it may be days, he may linger for a few weeks but his time here on this earth is fading and I am choosing to be happy for him. I know where he is going and I know that one day I will follow. Just as I've always followed him.

During this time I have been overwhelmed with the outpouring of love and support from my friends. So many have taken the time to share words of encouragement with me, to say prayers for my father and my family. I'll be forever grateful for the love you've shown me during this difficult time.

Tomorrow morning my sister and I are taking my mother to the funeral home to make arrangements. It is so strange to say but there is no place I'd rather be than at my mother's side for that. In the past I would have wanted to run away, far, far away. To bury my head in the sand. But today I want to be present. I want to be a rock. I will let the pain wash over me in waves. I will stand on my two feet with God in my heart and God in my mind and I will walk through the pain. And when it is all over I will have yet another experience to share with someone else down the road. From the pain comes wisdom. From the pain comes the ability to help others. From the pain comes purpose. Wash over, wash over, wash over.