If you phoned my house today and asked me how I was I'd tell you that I'm thankful I only have to take one day at a time.
I am reminded in Just For Today that I can do for 12 hours what would appall me if I had to do it for a lifetime.
Twelve hours I can handle.
I'd tell you about the ravens who are congregating to devour the bear cub in the ditch outside our driveway.
They are a noisy bunch.
About the mama bear and cubs youngest son keeps seeing at the end of our field.
How the jittery feeling still lingers at the thought of a cougar watching me from some tree as I move around outside.
I miss my walks.
The trees are almost all orange so we have a week or two at best before they lose their finery for the year and the landscape turns bleak and bare.
And while I don't whole heartedly welcome bleak and bare it's a necessary part of the journey - there is something hopeful about bleak and bare because it eventually gives way to new life.
I'd tell you of a week full of travel and appointments.
I'd ask you what I should make for supper as I'm fresh out of ideas.
I'd share how funny the energizer bunny looks as she does her obilgatory three turns before she lays down on a desk chair and how funny it looks for her swivel and the chair's to keep pace with one another.
Oh, the frustration!
Maybe we'd talk about where I'm at in my recovery journey.
How this weekend I saw for the first time in a long time that where I'm at is part of the process and how it's a process I can't hurry along but one that I can surrender to.
How scared I can get that where I'm at is where I'll stay.
How much faith it takes to trust that there is a bigger picture than the one in my view finder.
I'd tell you about a friend who says he can always tell when people are trying to transform themselves instead of letting the transformation unfold.
Unfold as only it can as one surrenders their character defects to their Higher Power.
He says their face gets all scrunchy with the effort.
Today there's a tug of war inside me between scrunchy and surrender.