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It’s the last day of February. I’m not sure if there’s a technical term for it, but tomorrow is my first day of Spring. They have “meteorological Spring” whatever that is. Then there’s the true start of Spring, the equinox. I’m just going to claim March 1st as my start of Spring. I never was very good at waiting after the long month of February…

The porch was a little wet this morning. I don’t know whether it’s from an overnight storm or just the thickness of the humidity in the air. So, I found a semi-dry spot to rest my feet and, like Margaret likes to say, “I had coffee with God”. I talked with my Higher Power for a bit and really tried to listen, but the day’s “to do” list kept creeping in, making it difficult. I’m better at quieting my mind and listening, but I realize I have a long way to go when it comes to being an active listener, whether it be in personal relationships or spiritual matters.

As many of you know, grace and desperation brought me to recovery rooms a little over twelve years ago. One of the promises given to me was that if I followed the suggestions of those who were farther down the road, I would have a spiritual awakening. My life would be transformed as a result of that awakening because I know longer sought to do things my way and act on my will: which always brought pain, failure, and conflict with others. Instead, I would seek out God’s will, let that Higher Power lead me down the path, and find a degree of  happiness, joy, and freedom. Over the last twelve years, that awakening, that transformation has happened in my life and for that I’m truly grateful.

The deeper the awakening though, the more I realize I suffer from spiritual narcolepsy. I get tired or simply complacent. All the old thoughts creep in and I become hard-headed, unwilling to listen, and difficult to be around. “They” become the problem and I slip back into “terminal uniqueness”. The spiritual naps have gotten shorter but they haven’t gone away by any means. And I still have that rebellious streak…

And now that you have a little background I hope you’ll stick around for the rest of the story. I’m not as unique as I thought, nor does being “awakened” mean I have a better handle on the journey. I just travelling down the road and I hope we can walk together…

I walked into a meeting Saturday afternoon and the rain had just stopped. When I walked out an hour later I saw something I hadn’t seem in almost two weeks: sunshine! Those of you who live elsewhere might not get the significance of the moment. Nine days of rain, most of it heavy, gets pretty oppressive to one’s spirit. I spent more time mopping up after our dogs than I did working. That gets old. Real quick…

In true Texas fashion, the rain stopped, that sun came out, and we’re looking at seventy degrees today. It might even be dry enough to finally rid myself of the horse manure that’s been sitting in my truck bed for the last week and a half! I’m sure our neighbors will appreciate that. But that’s another story…

I generally try to be upbeat in my posts. Encouragement and expressions of gratitude have their place. We need more of them. But that wouldn’t be completely realistic. You see, I’ve come to learn that sometimes life is much like the weather. Sometimes my attitudes and thinking get clouded by long periods of nasty weather. Then the sun comes out. The light stuns me with awe. The grass is a little greener than it was a couple of weeks ago. The Amaryllis is starting the bloom in the backyard. Buds begin to appear that weren’t there before the rain. Life is full of new opportunities.

Perhaps more importantly, the light exposes some outdated and outmoded thinking. It’s a reminder that maybe it’s time to take another look at where I am and where I want to be. How can I love people better? How can I be a better husband, father , and grandfather? How can I be a better man? How can I be a real disciple of the Rabbi I claim to follow? How can I share in creation; especially in creating a better place around me? I don’t even know what’s good for me half the time…

I’m thankful for a power greater than me, the one I call God, that leads me to answer some of those questions. That requires a degree of honesty that really doesn’t feel that great; especially in public. I’ve learned I’m just not that unique. So maybe there are other to share the path with. Maybe you too, gentle reader, can relate to some of the story. I’ll keep you posted…

I’m a little late getting things going this morning. I had a dental appointment at 7:00 AM and it through off the routine. Not only did I have to face my dentist phobia; I can’t have anything hot, which means no coffee. You’ll understand if I seem a little incoherent…

As I grow older I realize how much I’ve become a creature of habit. Bedtime almost always corresponds with the ten o’clock news. Now that my work is no longer dependent on the weather, I count myself lucky to make it through the whole program. I wake up at the same time every morning, enjoy my coffee and some quiet time on the porch, and eventually find my way to the desk. Either at lunch or in the evening, I make time for three or four recovery meetings a week. There may be minor variations, but it’s always roughly the same.

I used to think my Mom and Dad boring. I’m sure the outsiders looking into my life would say the same thing, but I don’t care about that as much as I used to. One of my favorite writers, Robert Fulghum, talks about going out to get the mail “in an old bathrobe and fuzzy slippers” and just not caring what the neighbors think. He says that some call it “going to seed”. He prefers to think of it as the “beginning of wisdom”. I prefer his version. Maybe I’m getting there…

They say sixty’s not old, and they’re right. I’m not sure it’s the “new forty” and even if it were, I’m not sure I’d want to be forty again. I was almost fifty before I came into recovery and spent the previous years holding God and others at bay. I’m not anxious to repeat those previous years.

My goals values have changed a lot in the last twelve years. Making money isn’t as important and all consuming as it was when I was younger. Work will still be here tomorrow but the people I love might not. I don’t want to shirk my responsibilities, but I want to make time and be grateful for the people in my life. I believe that’s the wiser choice. If that seems boring, then so be it.

I’m generally a pretty optimistic person. February tends to test that outlook. The shortest month of the year feels like the longest one. This week seems like the longest one in February. I attended a memorial for my friend Jim yesterday and will attend another one on Friday for Bobby. I’ll be glad when Sunday comes.

Even more than that, I’ll be glad when March 1st gets here. You see, from there it’s just a brief sprint to Spring. This year I’m ready. I look forward to the rebirth of my little world. Even though it was near freezing this morning, I spent a brief time on the porch just to say I really was there (after all, this is “Thoughts From The Porch”) and to see how much standing water was out front. I’m thankful for the rain (from mild drought to a surplus of rainfall) but I’ve found some drainage issues I need to address.

What really struck me though, was all the green grass that appeared after the last couple of days. It may only be “winter grass”, but it’s always the precursor to Spring and it reminds me that warmer days and planting the garden is right around the corner. There’s something about planting seeds that gives me hope, and gets me through February…

I have an organic garden. As such, it’s not merely avoiding chemical pesticides and fertilizers, and not just the planting and watering that focuses my attention, but the preparation of the soil. Jesus once told a story of a sower and the various types of soil on which he threw the seed and what the results were. Suffice it to say that good soil produces good harvest. I’ve spent a lot of time preparing the soil: I’ve added horse manure, compost, and a lot of love and attention.

The other thing I’ve learned is the importance of what surrounds my garden. Are there marigolds to keep the tomato worms at bay? Are there plenty of flowers and bushes around to attract butterflies and bees to pollinate the growing vegetables? Do I provide a place for beneficial nematodes, ladybugs, and the wasps that hunt plant parasites? I put a fence up to keep my dogs and other critters out so the soil doesn’t become tramples and hard (remember what happened to the seeds that fell on the hard soil in the Rabbi’s story?).

All this gives my garden every opportunity to flourish and give a great harvest. People are a lot like that too. Listening to all the memories shared at Jim’s memorial yesterday made me acutely aware of that. He was one of those people who was always sowing seeds and tending hearts. As I looked out over the crowd there, I also thought of how he helped me surround myself with the protection and fellowship of friends who’ve allowed my life to flourish.

When I think about those precious gifts, February’s not so long after all…

The thoughts from the porch are pouring in today. We came home after a fantastic weekend with our friends in Oklahoma. We camped out, enjoyed a walk through the woods around Lake Murray, and later, went to a meeting in town to hear great speakers share their journey through this thing called life. We shared a superb meal with a lot of  friends after the meeting (a big thank you to the folks who seated so many on a full Saturday night!).

We ate, laughed, and shared stories about life and our friend, Jim. His life had a far reach: people who only knew him through friends had been touched and blessed by Jim’s life. Then we made our way back to home for a well-deserved rest without setting the alarm clock. Believe it or not, we slept in until 8:15!

Sadly, we weren’t awake long before news of another friend’s passing arrived. We had just asked about him last night. Not many of the ones who cared about him had heard from him the last couple of years. He had isolated himself from us following a tumultuous love affair that left him emotionally shattered and in poor health. Looking back, I’m not sure whether the physical ailments or the broken heart is what finally led to his passing.

Like Jim, he too helped many people on their journey to recovery and a new way of life. I know. His often simple words helped me even when they dripped with sarcasm. You’d have to really know him to understand. He will be missed. As another friend said, “I loved him”.

I thought about those simple words as I sat on the porch this morning. I watched as two beautiful red-headed woodpeckers made their way up and around opposite sides of the big Arizona Ash in our yard. They constantly climbed higher, circling around the tree trunk, looking for hidden gems of sustenance, doing what woodpeckers do.

Both those simple words and the woodpeckers got me to thinking about lost friends and the life I have today. I hope I’m climbing higher. I hope I’m growing. I hope I’m becoming the kind of man my God wants me to be. If I just keep “pecking”, I might just find the hidden gems God put there for me. Jim did that. He kept “pecking”. He kept looking for, and sharing, those hidden gems. He stayed connected to the people he loved and loved him. That’s what he taught me.

I learned that from my other friend as well. Just in a different way. I learned just how important it is to stay in touch. It’s hard to love from a distance, especially when I create it. It’s just as important to be there for others as it is for them be there for me. Though writing connects with people on another level, it can be isolating. So I have to be among my friends, among my community, to stay on the upward circling path.

With both my friends I’m also reminded that keeping in touch is a two-way street. I hope to do a better job of letting my friends know how much they mean to me, and to make myself more available. It’s not easy nor convenient at times, but it sure beats not letting the people in your life know that you’re there; that you love them. I can’t remember a time when I wished I’d spent more time at this computer. I can tell you I long for one more time to let the friends who have passed know how much I love and appreciate them. Besides, it’s a lot easier to climb that tree together…