January 25
Responding to Response
Thankfully I’m not in charge of what is so freely given in
this program. I want it to be available, but I want gratitude to be the
universal response. At first I thought I
couldn’t understand how anyone could hold this gift in their hands and not feel
grateful, truth is I know exactly how that’s done and I don’t want to look at
that ugly thing. “Cunning, Baffling,
Powerful” But they left out how repulsive it is, maybe they didn’t want to see
it either, or thought it was self-explanatory.
No matter which, I’m glad I am not the arbiter of the
flowing fount that is recovery, I might have been tempted to cap and meter it,
killing all the beauty and wild randomness that makes it real and true. I despair that others don’t recover as I
recover and yet I am relieved that I didn’t have to drink as they drank.
I have to see those around me well enough to stay out of
their traps or follow their leads, whichever is appropriate, but I don’t have
to adjudicate their reply.
Pick up sticks and
put downs stones
*
THE BUTTON BOX
I go to my button box
To sort out my life.
I lay out the matching sets
The various sizes, shapes and colors.
Coat buttons are commanding
But unsuitable for delicate places.
The tiny pearl buttons with shanks pull my attention
But work well only on silks.
The metal, shell and horn buttons
Come from such far off places
And all end up crossing my table
As I try to see clearly how to stick with the winners.
I know the people represented in this box.
The strong, the loud, the beautiful.
I know the weak and the unique,
The ones of special circumstances and occasions.
I come to the realization the simple ones,
The buttons sewn on the inside,
The ones who silently give strength
And support to the large and the small alike.
The ones which come in every shade and size,
Who match their ability
To service they render others,
These are my favorites.
They make secure all the things I love and trust
Flat and unobtrusive these buttons
Hold fast the fabric of my life.
I go to my button box
To sort out my life.
I lay out the matching sets
The various sizes, shapes and colors.
Coat buttons are commanding
But unsuitable for delicate places.
The tiny pearl buttons with shanks pull my attention
But work well only on silks.
The metal, shell and horn buttons
Come from such far off places
And all end up crossing my table
As I try to see clearly how to stick with the winners.
I know the people represented in this box.
The strong, the loud, the beautiful.
I know the weak and the unique,
The ones of special circumstances and occasions.
I come to the realization the simple ones,
The buttons sewn on the inside,
The ones who silently give strength
And support to the large and the small alike.
The ones which come in every shade and size,
Who match their ability
To service they render others,
These are my favorites.
They make secure all the things I love and trust
Flat and unobtrusive these buttons
Hold fast the fabric of my life.
You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to
Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
