11/17/2003

2003-11-17 - 10:40 a.m.

Dear God,

Golden smelly auto cars and mist-dampened black top constitute the conduit which carries my soul and it's vehicle from west to east so it can do what it should, what it doesn't want to do, to survive. In blasting through the resistance of this doing the lights grow brighter, the draining day plugged with the stopper of action. God, thank you for this opportunity and thank you for the rest which makes all this unrest so spectacular. Thank you for my smelly car and the vehicle and soul that drove it here. I think what I need to do is pray for a fellow worker here. God bless him. And thank you that I don't feel so insecure today to have to control and manipulate and put down so that I feel superior, or in control. I remember that restlessness. Thank you for the peace in my soul. Priceless. Thank you for the gift of sobriety and thank you for putting Miss Jane in my life so I can share it. I love the Holidays and thank you for them, too. For my babies and for the drunks you show me how to help who help me so much more, thank you. This is not a comprehensive list, but you know that. I'll write back soon, and I'll call you tonight before I go to sleep.

Love,

John