...wherever you might be.
I got your 'Courage to Change' book in the mail today.
I ordered it from E-bay and it came via a California Goodwill.
I see your name pencilled inside the front cover and your writing seems strong and determined.
I don't know you, Duane T., but I'm sorry you gave up this book.
Perhaps you didn't like the daily reading format.
I have been trying to think of another good reason why you might have donated your copy of it, and my mind just cannot imagine any scenarios that are good.
While I'm happy to have this sturdy little book back in my hands, I'm truly sorry it's no longer in yours.
For me, personally, this publication is one of the best I've ever used.
It's talked me down from a lot of emotional ledges.
The copy that arrived in the mail today is probably my 20th one.
I have a propensity to give them away...that's how valuable I think they are.
The19th copy of the book left my hands when an old neighbor of ours stopped by and rang the doorbell.
She was pushing her new Grandson in a stroller.
Her obvious joy at this new delight in her life dimmed slightly when she told me, "My daughter is gone again."
Our eyes met and the pain between us was so intense it physically hurt my heart.
She talked candidly of her fears and worries for a few minutes, and then her Grandson started to fuss noisily in the stroller.
Her eyes were sad as she informed me, "I need to go. Pray for us."
"Wait! Wait!" I said, "I have something that might help!"
I ran into the house and got my copy of 'Courage to Change' off my nightstand.
Over the loud cries of her Grandson, I quickly told her, "Sometimes the daily reading doesn't help...but sometimes it feels like it saves my life!"
I shoved the book into her hands and we hugged.
She waved at the end of the street and I waved back.
It's been a few months since this encounter and I hadn't yet replaced the book on my nightstand.
My daughter's struggles have increased of late and I've been missing the wisdom of the little book.
I've been finding myself stuck in the perpetual loop of a mother wanting to save her child.
This book reminded me, daily, that I can't rescue her.
She can only save herself.
My daughter is almost thirty years old and I still want to find her and lock her away somewhere safe...
I want to find a way to make her happy and content...
...to find her a job where she will discover purpose...
...to make her recognize the power and wonder of the bright side of the stars...
I can do none of these things.
I have no control over my daughter.
All I can do is read my little book...
And pray for Duane T., my daughter, and all the other people suffering from the devastation of addiction.