One of the opportunities of recovery is time.  Time to breathe.  Time to be still.  Time to ponder.

Time to look around the house and simply drink in reality.  Generally, I don’t love swallowing reality by the glass.  Intellectually, I know a good swig of reality is the best cure for stink in’ thinkin’.  For fairy tale illusions.  For suffering.  It’s an antidote for so many ailments I seem to be susceptible to.  But the pace of normal life makes a dose of reality much harder to prepare and swallow than say cramming my calendar with to-dos or crashing on the sofa with a computer.  (Nothing better than looking present but virtually being in multiple places at the same time.)  This spring I have said yes to reality and enjoyed sipping from its brimming cup.

One sip I have savored has been noticing how full our home and life is.  Although the clutter can drive me crazy, I find myself amazed at the fullness represented in the hodgepodge of backpacks, art supplies, notebooks, knick knacks.  This has nothing on the village of shoes and socks that live by the doors and often seek their mates.  Yes, our house is full.  So full we are about to burst at the seams.  So full I know I am no longer just a me but truly part of a we.

During my busy days of the recent past, I often found myself irritated by the hodgepodge encroaching around me.  Where is the neat and tidy space I used to call home?  While in recovery, I realized that home–the neat and tidy one from four years ago–doesn’t exist anymore.  The emptiness that I entered when I bought this house trusting is no longer empty.  The life that I longed for when I sat at the settlement table is now our life.  Miraculously over the last four years I have grown into our life.  At a first glance it looks nothing like I planned.  At a second glance, I know this is better than I could ever plan.

In these days of recovery, I see this Easter I sip from a cup of reality that invites an inner emptiness.      Like the trust of moving into this house, I trust somehow this space will be filled, too.  I wonder, what new life is waiting to be born?