Midweek Musings: Dear George
a note and a prayer
Welcome to many new subscribers! I don’t know how you found Release and Gather, but I’m glad you’ve joined us. Every Wednesday I post Midweek Musings. I don’t know if these are really any different than the regular Saturday releases, but it’s the middle of the week and it’s a nice reminder to stop and think about what’s happening in my world.
Scott Hines over at The Action Cookbook Newsletter recently wrote:
“The Action Cookbook Newsletter is a place where I write about food and parenting, but also lots of other things.
I write about things that I care about, but also things that I hope will make people smile or feel a bit better when things are rough. I write because I want to be the one email a day you’re happiest to read, and I’m going to keep trying my best to get there.”1
I don’t want to steal his mission, but his words do express much of what I’m aiming for here at Release and Gather.
I hope this makes today a little brighter for you.
“Hey, I want you to meet George. He got here the day before I did.”
Three weeks after Jonah checked into rehab,2 he and I were having lunch at the residential treatment center when he called over a middle-aged guy from across the community room. My son made introductions, and before trudging away, George, expressionless, nodded his head as he made eye contact and quietly said, “Good kid. You’ve got a really good kid.”
My heart always swells when I hear that (because he really is a good kid), but in that moment my heart also felt some sadness. George seemed dejected. Maybe a little lost. But then again—who wouldn’t be? He was in a detox facility.
A week later, Jonah and George both moved to extended care, or “EC,” a row of houses where clients are monitored 24/7 but in a less clinical setting. At EC, the guys still have group and counseling requirements, but also a little more freedom. They can receive mail and care packages, walk to the store with guys who have been in the program longer, and have family visits on Sundays.
During phone calls, Jonah often relates stories to me about his “brothers.” I’ve learned who is the best shopper for house groceries3 and how one guy caught a squirrel and hid it in their bathroom for three days until the staff found it and made him release it. He’s excitedly told me about attending graduations of those who completed the program, and there was the time the guys loaned him some clothes and shoes for a job interview. I’ve been on the receiving end of some venting sessions regarding who pushed his buttons. And then there was the story of the bag of potatoes they discovered rotting in the bottom of the pantry, which brought about a thorough cleaning that led to the uncovering of some tally marks on a wall near the floor.4
But throughout the months-long stay, the friend I’ve heard about regularly is George. A native of Hungary, he spent many years in the United States but also lived and worked all over the world. Having a background in finance, he led some budgeting classes for the guys and encouraged smoking cessation—mostly because he was trying to quit and the others’ constant lighting up was making it difficult!
Early on, it was evident Jonah and the rest of the community respected him.
“George has so much wisdom,” he said. “When he speaks during group time, everyone is quiet. Like, even the ones who usually are talking and not taking it seriously. Everyone shuts up and listens to what George has to say.”
A week or two into EC, Jonah said George was having a particularly difficult week, so I included a note to him in my next letter to Jonah. Nothing earth-shattering. Just words of encouragement and appreciation.
Dear George,
I can't imagine that where you are right now is where you want to be, but I am glad you are there for such a time as this. Jonah has told me how you have shared wisdom with him as well as the other guys, and this mama is so grateful for your presence there.
George told Jonah that reading my note elicited the first tears he had shed since entering rehab.5 He asked to speak to me when we came for our next Sunday afternoon visit. He introduced himself to my husband Mike, thanked me for my words, and told us (again) what a great kid Jonah is. What I remember most is that he smiled.
Since that meeting, George always comes out to chat when we visit. He’s just a year older than I am, so he speaks Gen X. While he complains about the immaturity of the younger guys, I’ve noted throughout the weeks that his demeanor is less apathetic-old-man and more childlike. He’s grown almost lighthearted. He jokes and laughs a lot. Really, really loudly.
George is leaving rehab this week. It’s time for him to move back into the world and begin his new sober life. We said our goodbyes when we saw him a couple of weeks ago just in case he left before our next visit. He has our number and an open invitation to visit anytime.
George knows I write, but I’m not sure if he knows about this little corner of cyberspace. Jonah enjoys reading my posts and has shared Release and Gather with a few of his friends. Maybe George will read this, maybe he won’t. Regardless, here’s my prayer for him as he embarks.
A Prayer for George
Elohim, thank you for George and the good he brings to those around him.
Jehovah Shalom, grant him the serenity to accept the things he cannot change, the courage to change the things he can, and the wisdom to know the difference.
Jehovah Rapha, heal George—mind, body, and soul—and restore his relationships.
Jehovah Nissi, give him the strength and fortitude to continue to exhume the wreckage of his past; to hold up the artifacts so that he he may “unearth the lost pieces of himself, and proudly display them for others to see.”6
Jehovah Jirah, show George that the dredging, the sharing, and the trusting in You will help him to recover himself, to live authentically without fear or shame, to live the life You designed him to live.
Jehovah Shammah, remind George you are with him—through the warmth of Your sun, the beauty of Your stars, a rainbow against storm clouds, an encouraging word from a friend, or a penny on the ground. Show him Your presence
Most of all, help him laugh.
Amen.
BONUS CONTENT
I just watched Burn Your Maps, a 2016 indie film directed by Jordan Roberts. It’s a perfect movie if you’re grieving or feeling a little lost.
If you have a loved one in recovery or are interested in reading more from my journey of being the mama of a son battling addiction, check out the post on how I may have created a rule breaker.
“Best” means who purchases most of what the housemates request instead of $85 worth of gourmet cheese.
You can probably also imagine his recounting his housemates’ speculations on how/why those marks were there.
As someone who reads the Holy Bible and practices a spiritual relationship with God, I believe He created me with certain talents to share His love with others—specifically, communicating effectively through the written word and encouraging others. Often I’m prompted to write notes of encouragement to random people, which can be really awkward and sometimes a little weird. But I’ve learned to just do it because time and time again God has shown me the positive impact of those words. So I write.
That was so nice of you to write him Holly. It might have been the only time that he ever had someone reach out to him. Added bonus that you gave your contact information. We need more people like that. People that care about others. Best of luck to him, I hope he makes it.
Best wishes to George!
Now I want to hear more about three-day squirrel in the bathroom!