Yesterday I posted this picture.
In a matter of minutes I received two text messages. As I wrote on Facebook, these two short conversations depict the vivid paradox that is sobriety.
Joy and Fear.
Although neither man says much in his message. It’s very easy to read novels into the state of their being. The man on the left is obviously sober, happy, excited, thankful, externally focused, polite and courteous just to name a few descriptors. The man on the right on the other hand is clearly not sober, but angry, uncomfortable, frustrated, remorseful, self-centered and clearly hurt.
What you can’t read in these messages is what happened next. So let me tell you the rest of the story.
A few minutes after I read the message on the right, I began to get a feeling inside like there was more to be done. I thought about where I was the days leading up to me finding sobriety. How fragile and irritable I was, but also how desperate I was to quit. For really years I had wanted to quit, but I was scared and had really no clue where to start. These thoughts flooded my mind and I knew I couldn’t just stop trying. He was worth fighting for.
So I kept on. Maybe it wasn’t the best strategy, but I just couldn’t give up. After all, he’d told me just 24 hours earlier how ready he was to quit. So I messaged him again, just something simple.
“I believe in you”
His response was not so nice, but it gave me something to work with.
“Santa is more real than are the chances of me succeeding alone.”
Once I read this I called some people I work with and got a plan together just in case he came around. When I texted him back a few minutes later I realized he was still not ready to talk. He said this…
Please stop. I want to be left alone. PLEASE.
I quickly responded with an apology and told him again that I believed in him and to call me if he needed anything. At that point I thought it was over. At least I had tried once last time, I told myself.
An hour later he again confirmed this notion with a novel text explaining that it was back to life for him and how he was going to try and stay clean on his own but didn’t think he had much of a chance.
This gave me an opening and I figured I might as well try again. So I did.
I sent him a novel back explaining my plan. I told him about the treatment center I had lined up, the extended care facility he could come back to here in Oklahoma and how the process would unfold. In return I got crickets. Nothing. For hours. Radio Silence.
Again, I thought well I gave it all I could; clearly God has a better plan.
But a few hours later a mentor of mine suggested I tell him a little more about my story and explain what would have happened I hadn’t taken the advice of others during those critical early days of pre-sobriety. My mentor also told me something I will never forget. He said, “love him til he says yes”. In those five words I knew exactly what he meant and exactly what I had to do next.
So I sent him over a personal note. I detailed how low I really got. The psychotic mess I was. How I had no hope, no friends, no future. I told him how I felt alone, just like he did. But that someone had offered me a helping hand and for whatever reason, I grabbed on. When I did it changed my entire life. Every single aspect.
Near the end of the note I again tried to help him understand how the process would work and did my best to ease any fears.
In response, crickets.
But at this point I didn’t care. I was all in and was going to love him tell he said yes. So two hours later I checked in with him. And to my surprise he responded.
He admitted how miserable he was and how he wanted one more night to think about. He agreed to give me a response after he went to church the next day. As I soon as I read this, I knew we had found some hope!
So we prayed. Me, the family (there is always a family involved), my family and even my children who were with me. We prayed and prayed and prayed.
The next day I watched the clock. 10Am, 11Am, noon and nothing in response.
And then finally I got the word.
YES!
I was overjoyed and so was his family. From there we all went to work. Booking flights, making arrangements, working with the facility. And yes, this was all on a Sunday afternoon. But when it comes down to helping save someone’s life, it doesn’t matter what day it is. You drop everything and do what needs to be done!
Within literally one hour, everything was set-up. The only thing we had to do was get him on the plane. So back to praying, texting, calling, doing all we could just to make sure everything was ok and that he was comfortable. Shortly before his mother texted that he had made it through security and I received this message.
“Thank you for everything. I may be terrified and emotional, but I’m out of here!”
There are a thousand lessons to be learned from this story. But to me what sticks out is simple. Don’t give up hope. Ever. No matter what. Especially for you parents out there whose children have yet to “board their plane”. Don’t give up on them. Don’t ever stop praying for them. Don’t ever stop believing in them. You never know what may trip the trigger inside your child and give them the boost they need to take that step towards freedom.
Today the man on the right has the hope. He’s slate is bright white. It’s clean. It’s fresh. It’s new. And soon he’ll have all the joy as the man on the left.
Now you know the rest of the story.
