I have just spent thirty minutes holding my mom as she cried, tearful over her declining health due to late-stage COP and Emphysema, a direct result of her addiction to nicotine since the age of fifteen. Watching my mother at the end of her life is heartbreaking, and my recovery has allowed me to be present for her as she reaches the end of her life. Without it, I would be either in prison or dead.

Mom and I have a complicated relationship. Both of us addicts, we often bring out the worst in each other as much as the best. For much of my life, I held resentments against her for what I felt were wrongs. Working the steps in SLAA enabled me to forgive her, and I offered amends by caring for her as she aged. Step work helped me realize that mom loved me as best as possible. Perfectly imperfect.

As a member of Al-Anon, I now see that no matter what, I cannot talk, pray, or manipulate mom into health. I sure tried. I threw away cigarettes. I asked her to quit for her great-grandkids. I showed her videos about what it is like to die from COPD. For a season, I just avoided her. As I review the past seven years I lived with her and my stepfather, I felt so damn sad.

The kind of sadness that resides deep in my bones.

My relationship with the Bible is just as complicated as that with my mother. But in the silence of my room, I asked my Higher Power to give me some sense of presence. I was so tired of holding everything in - of having everything together. Then I came across this passage, and the love and presence of the Holy Spirit wrapped me in a warm embrace.

“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you ’ll recover your life. I ’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won ’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you ’ll learn to live freely and lightly.”

The Message Matthew 11: 28-30

In the depth of my sorrow, I felt love seep into cracks and crevices. I accepted that my best defense to this challenge before me - the challenge of being a good son to a dying mother - was to accept that I was not alone. In addition to my family and friends, my Creator was in the middle of this transition from life to death to life for my mother. All I had to do was quit trying to do God ’s job.

Acceptance is the first of twelve spiritual principles of recovery. It is another way of describing the positional change Jesus calls us to make in Matthew 11. We must ‘come” with Him. We have to stop working for our spirituality. We must watch the one who bore our pains and sorrows as He goes about His God ’s business. We must be so openhearted that we allow lightning bolts of love, mercy, and grace to penetrate our rebel souls. In short, we give up control. I am not the greatest at doing that.

But I am learning.

Shane M
Conway, AR
January 2023