Sleeping with Bread

During the bombing raids of WWII, thousands of children were orphaned and left to starve. The fortunate ones were rescued and placed in refugee camps where they received food and good care. But many of these children who had lost so much could not sleep at night. They feared waking up to find themselves once again homeless and without food. Nothing seemed to reassure them. Finally, someone hit upon the idea of giving each child a piece of bread to hold at bedtime. Holding their bread, these children could finally sleep in peace. All through the night the bread reminded them, "Today I ate and I will eat again tomorrow."

I read that entry for Sleeping with Bread for the umpteenth time this morning.
But this morning it read differently for me.
Chalk it up to me being a bit 'nostalgic' this morning......

Fear of waking up to find themselves in a horrid position--

I sleep, hanging tight to my bread every night.
It's so much a 'habit' and 'routine'--I don't see anything different or unusual about it (though I am told it's unusual by himself).
Every night I get to take stock of the good, the bad, and the ugly in Mel's day.
It's not those things that 'happen to me' that I'm taking stock of....it's ME. Yaknow, the one thing/person I can do something about......
How many years did I 'journal' about what life handed me, keeping stock of the awfullness of life and circumstances-- refusing to take a look at what part I played in those situations?

*sigh* Too many.


And now....truly..... every night I go to bed grateful--cuz I know what, come the new day, I'll be doing with it all.
I don't go to bed feeling worse for the experience--even after discovering my part (which, I gotta admit, I'm not always thrilled about.....)
I know what direction I'll be headed with it--and it's 'towards' the problem/dilema/conflict and not running like crazy in the opposite direction, hoping someone'll forget.....hoping I don't cross paths with someone, hoping the problem(s) will mysteriously disappear...
......or worse yet, drinking/drugging them away.

I did a whole lot of that.
Too much....enough to bring me to the disciplines I practice every day and every night and every minute inbetween.

I don't find it the least bit 'unusual' to admit that I'm grateful for a discipline that had to be 'forced', that I'm grateful for the horrid circumstances that pushed the envelope to GET me to where I needed to be so I could get the discipline I needed to have something soooooo different to what I had once-upon-a-time.

But I am.
Eternally.... grateful.

Every night I go to bed with a slice of something different than I had yesterday. A good slice of bread.....a piece that's a bit more savory, more filling.
And every morning I wake, remind myself and the Big Guy what brought me here....and I move into the day to do it different.
Every day.

It's through His grace that I came to a different way of doing life.
I know this deeply...completely..without doubt......

I celebrated an anniversary in A.A. yesterday.
WE celebrated--G-d and me.....

It was a great party.
He served bread--He serves me that daily......


Amen.