All that is left are NAMES on a rock, and a field of green grass. WHY?
TRAVELER'S FOOD
So when did I say everything is perfect? Was that only last night? I dined this evening at a HARDEE'S. About 35 years ago I said it would be the last time, then. Well, why did I think it would be different this time ________(fill in the blank)? All I can say is that it was a rude ride, the staff was rude, other customers were rude, I was "ruded". There were a few transactions being carried out in brown unmarked paper bags.
Any minute I expected the customers to be pointing to me, while saying to the police, "HE did it. HE brought this stuff in here to sell. HE is a 'dealer'. HE is the one whose scooter outside is sitting there with its lights on...." WHAT? My BATTERY! Wow, did I break out of that lethargy, like fast. Anyway, this has nothing whatever to do with tonight's blog...MAYBE!
WHEN IS WAR EVER "CIVIL"?
I visited a Confederate Cemetery this afternoon, along the highway--well, eight miles off the highway. There is only one you know. Ooops, i mean one million of them! It was the scene of a horrendously bloody battleground, Averasboro. The battlefield today is so peaceful, green grass smiling up at me, acres of it. A few battle remnants, ramparts I noticed. And I saw the quiet, the sereneness of those beautiful pastures, sitting there with little left but the memories they hold of that great fight in the mid 1800's.
The places where armies battled until many of each side were dead, are everywhere strewn here in the southland, and each battlefield has its own stories of horror. Yet they are so much the same, kill or be killed--or both, brother or not. And, be BRUTAL!
Unfathomable is the dichotomy of the picture above. I stood there, and I could hear the passionate screaming of men with their blood spilling freely from torn-off limbs. I listened to the feint sounds here and there of "Mama. Help me, Mama!" The cursing, the shouting, the obscene yelling, the canon blasts, the small arms' firing away at other humans just like ourselves. (See, I even put myself into the battle!) Even the horses who wanted to escape, but just did not know how...nowhere safe to run.
One mini-second in history it is a field of complete, total, and real, chaos, and the next mini-second of eternity it is the holiness of the courage and bravery buried there under fields of green, not of dreams, unless we count nightmares.
I was allowed the sight, the sounds, the feelings in that lonely, green farmland as I knelt and prayed, not for those men, but for the suffering defenseless mothers and innocent wide-eyed children who have been and are abused daily, hourly. Always. Before, during and until...the end of time.
I pray they might find their "Second Road" home, to sanity, to peace, and in happiness. This battle is not fought in muddy fields, but in living rooms and bedrooms, the world over. God, please have mercy on these, the least....
These wars of unspeakable happenings remind me of my alcoholism. How is it, my life one minute in eternity was one of utter chaos with annihilation of whatever did not conform to "my will". Once a life of recovery began and was taking shape, one eternity-minute of past time had transubstantiated itself into the following eternity-minute, characterized by some bit of peace and serenity now and then. God is doing for me what I cannot do for myself. Isn't that just truly marvelous! And God is doing that for any of us who sincerely ask. So let's ask, peeps.
Back to the first paragraphs: HARDY'S hamburger palace was no good for me 35 years ago, and obviously it is still no good for me...but I HAD to try it out "one more time." It did not kill me.
Alcohol was no longer good for me years ago. And I had better not try it out "one more time" or it could well kill me, and maybe--needlessly--others. (See, there WAS a way to tie that in with sobriety!)
NOTE: While I was writing, I received a call from "B" in Naples. I do not know him. He had been drinking. And I talked wayyy too long with him. He wanted me to "come over and we'll talk". He would not listen to me say that I am in North Carolina, and it would be difficult. I get SO tired of people telling me how much sobriety they "had in the past." But it is normal for us to try and make ourselves look good...no matter how bad we really look. Maybe nobody reading this has that problem. Maybe it's just me--and Mr B in Naples, who will awaken with a headache in the morning, as I will NOT!
Hey guys, I'm on my way to Charlottesville VA in morning. Gonna meet PG's sponsee there for dinner Friday evening. She will take me to farmer's Market Saturday. I know her, she used to live in Naples, and we sat in many meetings together. We will go to a meeting at 8 PM tomorrow night.
Later, Saturday evening I'm going to "take a tour" of TSR (The Second Road) and meet face-to-face Jinx and A Miles, the peeps who keep that place alive. And I AM excited about all the opportunities to meet other recoverers whose programs I respect and admire. We're all in this together, guys.
Only 200 miles today
$30 motel--no coffee, Should have known.
Scooter runs like new
Body tired
Glad I got biker jacket
Have not gone down yet
Still it gives confidence
Bike thinks I-95 means 95 mph
Gonna get me some tomorrow--dinner--FOOD!
Miss my peeps at home, lots of them.
It will make reunion sweeter
Miss prayer girl
I know she would like to be out here
But in A/C car, not on scooter.
I am LOVING every mile.
Believe that!!!!!
I love life
I love LIVING life
I, I, I, I, it's ALL about me, yes?
Thank you Kristin.
For lovely words in my behalf
On The Second Road (TSR)
You are a sweetie.
So let's be cheerful (well it's NOT required --grin!)
And SMILE, even when I do not feel like it.
And find 'some ting' like PEACE in our lives.
And love, yes, love one another.
Steve
