A reflection on Step 10

 

Dear Reader,

One of the humbling discoveries of Step Ten is realizing that recovery is not simply about avoiding alcohol, addiction, or destructive behavior.

It is also about recognizing the quiet return of old ways of thinking.

Sometimes we review our day and discover we have again become critical, fearful, impatient, prideful, or trapped in discouragement over missed opportunities and repeated mistakes.

That can feel disheartening.

Yet perhaps the deeper truth is this:
the ability to see these patterns is itself evidence of spiritual growth.

Before recovery, many of us lived unconsciously inside these behaviors.
We justified them.
Defended them.
Or blamed others for them.

Now Step Ten gives us something different — awareness.

And awareness is not condemnation.
It is light.

The purpose of “cleaning house” is not to prove we are failures.
It is to prevent old resentments, fears, and selfish patterns from quietly rebuilding themselves inside us.

What strikes me most about your reflection is the honesty within it.
You are not hiding from the patterns.
You are observing them.
That is a very different life than before.

Recovery often progresses in this order:

First we act poorly and never notice.
Then we act poorly and blame others.
Then we act poorly and notice later.
Then we notice while doing it.
And eventually, by grace, we begin noticing before it fully takes hold.

That is spiritual progress.

The Apostle Paul described this human struggle honestly in Romans 7 when he wrote:

“For the good that I would I do not: but the evil which I would not, that I do.”

Even Paul recognized the tension between the higher self we desire and the older patterns still living within us.

Step Ten does not ask us to become perfect overnight.
It asks us to remain teachable.

To pause.
To reflect.
To admit when something old has resurfaced.
And then to continue forward rather than surrendering to shame.

In many ways, Step Ten is daily humility in action.

Not:
“I have failed again.”

But rather:
“I see more clearly today than I once did.”

And perhaps that clearer sight is one of the real miracles of recovery.

🙏🏻🧘‍♂️💕🤗☮️

Fertilizer only works when spread around

Dear Reader,

Tonight I found myself reflecting on the Nature Quote of the Day @BrainyQuote.com

It was a thoughtful observation from Richard Brinsley Sheridan

    “Fertilizer does no good in a heap, but a little spread around works miracles all over.” 

At first reading, the quote seems to be simple gardening wisdom. 

Yet beneath the surface is a profound truth we can apply to faith, wisdom, recovery, and the human soul. 

Fertilizer gathered into a single heap eventually burns what is nearest to it. 
What was intended to nourish becomes harmful through concentration. 

Spread carefully across the garden; however, it becomes life-giving. 
Growth appears everywhere. 

I cannot help but think human wisdom and faith work much the same way. 

When spirituality becomes concentrated into ego, pride, certainty, self-righteousness, or control, it can quietly poison both ourselves and others. 

History gives many examples. 

• Kings who forgot their people.  

• Religious leaders who forgot mercy.  

• Philosophers who valued intellect above compassion. 

Even good things become dangerous when separated from humility. 

The Apostle Paul seemed to understand this principle when he wrote: 

“Knowledge puffeth up, but charity edifieth.” 
— First Epistle to the Corinthians 8:1 

Knowledge alone can inflate the self.   
Love builds others. 

Aristotle taught that virtue often exists in balance rather than excess. 

• Too much certainty can become blindness.  

• Too much power can become corruption.  

• Too much focus on self can eventually isolate the soul. 

In my Recovery experience I gained something similar. 

Many of us arrive spiritually exhausted because we spent years trying to control life, manage appearances, protect pride, or prove our worth.  

Then something beautiful begins to happen. 

 

We discover healing does not come from becoming “greater” than others. 
It comes from becoming useful to others. 

• A small act of honesty. 

• A quiet conversation.  

• A listening ear.  

• A shared burden.  

• A little hope spread around. 

The miracle is rarely found in dramatic displays. 
It is usually found in daily nourishment quietly given away. 

Jesus seemed to teach this pattern constantly. 

He did not gather light to Himself alone. 
He spread it among fishermen, widows, strangers, lepers, and sinners. 

His ministry resembled rain falling across an entire field. 

In the Book of Mormon, Alma describes the word of God as a seed that must be planted and nourished so it may grow within us. 
Seeds are never meant to remain stored in jars forever. 
They are meant to multiply life. 

One of the beautiful teachings found in modern Later-day Saint thought comes from Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf, who teaches: 

“As we lose ourselves in the service of others, we discover our own lives and our own happiness.” 

That may be one of the great spiritual paradoxes of life. 

The more tightly we heap blessings, wisdom, status, or faith upon ourselves alone, the less life they seem to produce. 

But spread outward through kindness, humility, service, encouragement, and love… 
they begin to nourish entire gardens. 

Perhaps this is part of what recovery, philosophy, and scripture have all been trying to teach us: 

We were never meant to simply possess truth. 
We were meant to distribute grace. 

And sometimes the smallest handful spread with love works miracles all over.