One Among Many

Finding Freedom from the Fear of Being Ordinary

Dear Reader,

Today I found myself struggling to discover a topic to write about. As I sat quietly, waiting for inspiration, four simple words came into my mind:

"The Fear of Being Normal."

At first, the phrase seemed almost contradictory. After all, don't most of us long to be accepted? Yet the more I reflected, the more I realized that many of us spend much of our lives trying to be anything but ordinary.

From childhood we are encouraged to dream big.

We are told that we can become anything we want if we study hard, work hard, and never give up. We are taught that success is measured by accomplishments, recognition, promotions, trophies, degrees, and the admiration of others. The possibilities seem endless, and we begin to believe that our worth somehow depends upon becoming exceptional.

I believed that too.

Over the years I earned college degrees, collected silver trophies, and was fortunate enough to travel to remarkable places. Even today I can look at those mementos and smile with gratitude. They represent meaningful chapters in my life.

Yet, if I am honest, none of those achievements ever satisfied the deeper longing within me.

Each accomplishment brought a moment of happiness, but never the lasting peace I was searching for. The applause faded. The trophies gathered dust. The diplomas found their place on the wall. Still, something inside me whispered that there had to be more.

I now understand that I wasn't really searching for success.

I was searching for significance.

Unable to fill that emptiness, I eventually turned to alcohol and drugs. For a while they gave me the illusion of confidence and relief, but they only deepened the loneliness I was trying to escape. My desire to become "special" gradually led me to a place where I felt anything but special. My life had become one of fear, loss, and despair.

Then, by the grace of God, everything began to change.

I was introduced to a program of recovery.

There I discovered something I had never expected.

No one cared about my trophies, my education, my failures, or my titles. They cared only that I was willing to be honest. I found people who understood my struggles because they had walked similar paths. They welcomed me, not because I was extraordinary, but because I was one among many.

That simple truth became one of life's greatest gifts.

Recovery taught me that my value does not come from standing above others, but from standing beside them.

Service slowly replaced self-centeredness. Listening became more important than being heard. Encouraging someone else became more fulfilling than seeking recognition for myself.

The world often tells us to become important.

God quietly invites us to become useful.

King Benjamin taught:

"When ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God." 
— Mosiah 2:17

I have found that to be wonderfully true.

Today I no longer fear being ordinary.

In fact, I have discovered that an ordinary life, lived with faith, kindness, and service, is anything but ordinary.

Every quiet act of compassion, every word of encouragement, every hand extended to someone who is suffering becomes part of something far greater than ourselves.

Perhaps the greatest freedom comes when we stop asking, "How can I become someone special?" and begin asking, "Whom can I help today?"

That single change has filled the emptiness that success never could.

I have come to believe that we are already known by God, already loved by God, and already precious in His sight. We do not need to earn our significance.

We simply need to share His love with one another.

In the end, I have found there is no shame in being one among many.

Sometimes, that is exactly where miracles begin.

  🙏🧘‍♂️💕🤗☮️   

Lessons Hidden in Simple Things

 

Dear Reader,

Today I have been reflecting on two simple images: a snow globe and a stone tossed into a still pond. At first they seem unrelated, yet together they teach the same spiritual principle. Peace often comes not from controlling the disturbance, but from trusting the process God has established.

The snow globe is beautiful when it rests quietly on a shelf. But once it is shaken, swirling flakes obscure the peaceful scene within. We can no longer see clearly. Given enough time, however, the flakes slowly settle and the beauty reappears.

So it is with many of our lives. Circumstances shake us. Fear, resentment, anxiety, and uncertainty cloud our vision until we wonder whether peace will ever return. Unlike the snow globe, however, we are not simply waiting for time to pass. We are invited to trust. God's grace works much like gravity. Though unseen, it gently draws the chaos downward until clarity returns.

In recovery I have found that this trust begins with Steps Two and Three. We come to believe that a Power greater than ourselves can restore us to sanity, and we make the decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understand Him. The miracle is not that life stops shaking us; the miracle is that we no longer have to remain shaken.

Marianne Williamson expresses this truth beautifully: “When we surrender to God, we let go of our attachment to how things happen on the outside, and we become more concerned with what happens on the inside.” It is within that surrendered heart that God often performs His greatest work.

The second image is a stone tossed into a still lake. The impact disturbs the calm surface, and ripples spread outward in every direction. Yet the lake does not resist the stone. It receives it. The ripples gradually soften until the water is once again still.

I imagine that lake as the love of God. Our crises may strike suddenly, but God's presence is greater than the point of impact. His love surrounds the disturbance, absorbs what we cannot, and patiently restores peace. The stone settles, the ripples fade, and the lake becomes whole again. We discover that we are not alone, but surrounded, sustained, and set free.

Neither image suggests that problems disappear. The snow does not vanish. The stone remains beneath the water. Rather, they remind us that restoration is possible. Recovery does not promise a life without storms. The gospel does not promise a life without trials. Both promise that, with God, we can become people who are no longer ruled by them.

The Psalmist invites us, “Be still, and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10). Being still is not passive resignation. It is an act of faith. It is choosing to stop stirring the waters of yesterday's regrets and tomorrow's fears, allowing God to do what we cannot do for ourselves.

Perhaps God has placed lessons like these all around us. A snow globe. A quiet lake. A sunrise. A growing tree. Ordinary things quietly proclaim extraordinary truths to those willing to pause and notice.

The next time something simple catches your attention, ask yourself: What might God be teaching me through this? You may discover that creation has been gently preaching God's wisdom all along.

I would enjoy hearing about the ordinary things that have taught you extraordinary lessons. Please share your thoughts in the comments below.

Amen.

  🙏🧘‍♂️💕🤗☮️  

I Can't. God Can. So I'll Let Him.

 

Dear Reader,

“I can't. God can. So I'll let Him.”

Those six simple words have appeared on recovery meeting walls for decades. This morning, after reading four different daily meditations from four different sources, I realized they were all teaching that same profound truth.

This week I have been studying Step Two with a sponsee. As we talked together, I was reminded that this step is not merely about believing that God exists. It is about trusting that God is willing and able to restore us—not only to sobriety, but to spiritual health.

Step Two reads:

“Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.”

Another way to express this truth is, “Came to believe that the power of God can restore us to complete spiritual health.” Both statements point to a loving Heavenly Father who remains present in our lives, even when we do not fully understand His power.

The second meditation addressed fear. It reminded me that many of us enter recovery afraid and unable to trust. Over time, we may magnify worries about health, money, work, relationships, jealousy, and especially what others think of us. In my experience, these fears are often larger than reality, even when they contain some truth. I cannot simply will them away. Instead, I slowly discover that trust grows where fear once lived. With God's help, I begin to see more clearly and separate what is real from what is imagined.

The third meditation focused on criticism. It reminded me that, although loving concern may sometimes be needed, criticism often says more about the state of my own heart than about the person I am judging. It is easy to notice someone else's faults while ignoring my own, which may be just as clear—or even greater.

The Savior taught, “First cast out the beam out of thine own eye; and then shalt thou see clearly to cast out the mote out of thy brother's eye.” (Matthew 7:5)

His counsel invites me to humility and honest self-examination so I can serve others with greater compassion.

In my experience, true compassion is nearly impossible without God's love and guidance. He is the perfect example of forgiveness and grace, and the more I receive His mercy, the more capable I become of extending it to others.

The final meditation came from an ancient Eastern spiritual tradition. It suggested that a person truly walking the spiritual path is less concerned with the faults of the world and more attentive to the condition of their own heart. Although expressed differently, it echoes the Savior's invitation to examine our own hearts before judging another.

For me, these four reflections come together as one daily truth: God restores me as I learn to trust Him, face my fears honestly, replace criticism with compassion, and choose humility over pride.

Perhaps sanity is not merely the absence of irrational thinking. Perhaps true sanity is learning to see ourselves, other people, and God as they really are.

The Book of Mormon offers a similar invitation:

“See that ye are not lifted up unto pride... but that ye should have charity toward all men.” (Alma 38:11)

I have found that the closer I draw to God, the less I need to measure others. Instead, I become more aware of the mercy He continually extends to me.

Perhaps this is why the Big Book reminds us that we have only a “daily reprieve contingent on the maintenance of our spiritual condition.”

If I can practice these simple things today—trust God, face my fears honestly, show compassion instead of criticism, and walk humbly—I believe I will rediscover what those simple words have meant to countless people in recovery:

God can.

And because God can...

I don't have to.

For today,

That is enough.

🙏🏻🧘‍♂️💕🤗☮️

From Bondage to Freedom

Dear Reader,

Today I reflected on a simple but powerful promise from the Book of Mormon:

“But if ye will turn to the Lord with full purpose of heart, and put your trust in him, and serve him with all diligence of mind, if ye do this, he will, according to his own will and pleasure, deliver you out of bondage.” — Mosiah 7:33

One word stood out to me: Bondage.

I remember when I first began drinking, how exhilarated and fearless I felt. I believed I was stronger, more confident, and ready to face anything the world put before me. Alcohol promised freedom.

Over time, that sense of freedom began to disappear. Opportunities faded, friends and family pulled away, and my world grew smaller. Eventually, I found myself alone in a studio apartment with only a bottle and loneliness for company. I was living like a prisoner without bars.

I kept telling myself that tomorrow would be different. Denial and self-deception kept repeating yesterday’s mistakes. The chains were often invisible to others but painfully real. Fear, shame, resentment, dishonesty, and self-centeredness became as confining as the addiction itself.

I now understand that any real change begins with the invitation to “turn to the Lord with full purpose of heart.” Both then and now, that turning requires faith and hope. I testify that as we begin to experience the power of our Higher Power, each day becomes a little lighter, our burdens a little easier to bear, and hope begins to replace despair.

Looking back, I now realize that my life began to change when I followed three simple suggestions found in the first three Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous.

Step One calls us to admit our powerlessness. Step Two invites us to believe that a Power greater than ourselves can restore us. Step Three asks us to turn our will and our lives over to God’s care.

The scripture then asks us to put our trust in Him. That trust may be one of recovery’s hardest lessons. Many of us trusted ourselves until our own judgment led us to despair. Learning to trust God one day at a time becomes an act of faith rather than certainty. We discover that surrender is not weakness—it is the beginning of strength.

The verse continues by inviting us to serve Him with all diligence of mind. Recovery is active, not passive. It is practiced through daily prayer, honest inventory, making amends, attending meetings, studying scripture, serving others, and living spiritual principles in every part of life. As both scripture and Alcoholics Anonymous remind us, “faith without works is dead.” Recovery requires both our hearts and our hands.

It was in learning to let go that I gradually discovered what the prophet meant. I wasn't simply putting down the bottle. The Lord was slowly delivering me from the bondage that had shaped my life.

Here is the promise: “He will… deliver you out of bondage.” Notice what the scripture does not promise. It does not promise an easy life. It does not promise freedom from trials. It does not promise immediate answers. It promises something greater: freedom from the chains that once controlled us.

Sometimes God changes our circumstances. More often, He changes us. The chains lose their power, one link at a time, until we find ourselves walking in a freedom we once thought impossible.

That deliverance rarely comes all at once. It arrives one prayer, one honest conversation, one meeting, one act of service, and one sober day at a time.

I have often been asked whether my recovery came through Alcoholics Anonymous or through Jesus Christ. My answer is simple: I believe the Lord used Alcoholics Anonymous to lead me to Him. The Steps gave me a path. The Savior gave me the power to walk it. I remain deeply grateful for both.

To me, that is one of recovery’s miracles. The bondage that once defined my life no longer determines my future.

May we continue turning toward the Lord with full purpose of heart, trusting that He who delivered countless souls in scripture still delivers men and women today.

One day at a time. 
 
With gratitude, 
 
Amen 
 
🙏🧘‍♂️💕🤗☮️