It's Not About the Performance

I am a musician. Well, I guess that depends on how you define "musician," but I am a musician by my definition. :) And I participate in several music events a year, wherein I practice and then either play the piano in front of people, or sing in front of people. Some people would call this a performance, and sometimes it is.

As a director of a choir that sings at our local prisons for their LDS Christmas and Easter church services, I always tell my choir that it's less important that we "perform" than that we invite the Spirit. I tell them it's less about how we sound than it is about our testimonies. I don't want to discourage practice or effort, of course, but it's important to me that my choir not get hung up on performance and, essentially, perfection. I don't want them to feel bad if they miss a note, because the Choir's purpose is not about flawless execution.

It's about the journey. It's about authenticity. It's about connecting to our brothers and sisters in the prisons and bringing them messages of hope and love, not messages of musical flawlessness. It's about mutual growth; it's about baring our souls and sharing our faith. It's about service and sacrifice. (This is not to say we don't sing well. We are a quite talented group, if I do say so myself.) And, honestly, for being a total perfectionist myself, the Prison Choir (as we affectionately call it) is one thing that, for whatever reason, doesn't demand my perfection in my view. It's one of few (indeed, I can think of nothing else) of my endeavors for which I don't demand perfection in order to not be a failure. I am able to forgive myself for my mistakes during the practice season and for the mistakes I make at the prisons, because, somehow, God successfully gets it into my head, every year, that it's not about me. And, for reals, the dear offenders just don't care if we miss a note; they're genuinely grateful we're simply there.

Because... It's not about the performance.

I have seen addiction recovery as being totally recovered, like, not even having a desire to sin and use dangerous methods of coping. Like, recovery isn't recovery until recovery is complete. And that the journey from active addiction to constant sobriety is something that is a means to an end, and basically a sin in itself for as long as complete, eternal sobriety is not attained. So every slip is a huge setback and a huge disappointment, because it indicates that recovery has not been reached. And recovery seemed to be the ultimate and only worthy goal. Essentially, in my mind, total recovery was the performance; the perfect, flawless, rigid performance.

So yesterday was Thursday which means it was the night of my PASG meeting. I didn't want to go. I felt I had nothing to contribute, so why go? But I felt compelled to attend anyway, as I usually do, and I went, as I usually do. And it was seriously an amazing meeting for me. While I had little to contribute, I had much to learn, and learn I did. Many things. The Spirit was strongly whispering to my heart beautiful truths about me and my relationship to God.

And then, toward the end of the meeting, someone said, about addiction recovery, "if it takes a lifetime, that's okay." Sometimes when I hear stuff like that, I get discouraged. A lifetime? Will I be fighting this, slipping, hoping, failing, crying forever? I just can't handle the idea of fighting this till I die! But, yesterday, "if it takes a lifetime to recover, that's okay" sounded like comfort. It sounded like hope. It sounded like grace. It sounded like this quote by Elder Bruce R McConkie:

. . . everyone in the Church who is on the straight and narrow path, who is striving and struggling and desiring to do what is right, though is far from perfect in this life; if he passes out of this life while he’s on the straight and narrow, he’s going to go on to eternal reward in his Father’s kingdom. – “The Probationary Test of Mortality,” January 10, 1982

"It's okay if it takes a lifetime" sounded like "be kind to yourself. Be patient with yourself." Instantly, my choir came to my mind and how I focus more on the Spirit than on our performance. And it hit me- just like my choir isn't about the performance, neither likewise is addiction recovery about the performance.

You guys, It's not about the performance!
 It's about the process.

It's not about 100% success. It's not about completion. It's not about finishing addiction recovery because, honestly and truly, it may not ever be finished. Some people have depression their entire lives. Some people have diabetes their entire lives. Some people have Down's Syndrome their entire lives, or any given illness or disorder their whole dang lives, and sometimes, illness-- even psychological/emotional illness-- is lifelong, and that's okay, because it's not about the performance. Sometimes people have the disease of addiction their whole dang lives. It's about living life to the best of our abilities with what we have and what we know, to the fullest of our faith and hope. It's about learning the music as we go and sharing it, perfect or not, with those around us. It's about connection, faith, growth, and inviting the Spirit into our lives. Just like my choir, it's not about perfection; flawlessness. It's about finding joy and truth. It's about the process.

When my choir leaves the prisons, the inmates aren't going to hold in their hearts the memory of missed notes or forgotten lyrics. They will hold in their hearts the memory of our testimonies, of the Spirit invited by sweet, sacred music, of the messages of hope. They will hold in their hearts that we showed up, with something prepared, just for them.

And, also, not to compare God to an offender, but He also isn't as concerned about our execution as He is about the fact that we're here, that we prepare and try and work, that we allow the Spirit in our lives to guide us. If we slip or relapse- miss a note- well, that's just not as important as that we keep singing.

And if I don't "recover" tomorrow, it's okay. If I'm not "recovered" next year, it's still okay! Because . . . say it with me . . . it's not about the performance. 

I'm so inexplicably grateful for the Addiction Recovery Program. I'm profoundly, inexplicably grateful for my Savior and my Brother and my Friend, Jesus Christ, who patiently teaches me my worth, and stands ever before me with His arms open to scoop me in and keep me safe. Oh, how sweet is His grace. How sweet is His love.

Control, Control, Control

I want control. I want to be in control. When I feel like I am not in control, I freak out and write posts like yesterday's. I want to control everything in my life. When my need for control is this high, trusting God seems impossible. Trusting God means relinquishing my illusion of control over to Him.

Even as I write that, I feel my blood pressure rising. NO! I must have the control!

It's funny because I never have control. I never had it. I never can! This is not my world. This is God's world. I wish my life to be God's life. I wish to turn myself entirely over to Him.

Even as I write that, a calm comes over me, and I exhale peacefully.

I have been frantically trying to control everything at work so that I can control what my next shift will be so that I can more easily control my life and be home with my kids when I want to be. Because then my illusion of control will be more believable. I'll think I have some. I'll think that it's because of my awesomeness that I have a great shift. It's because of my needs as a single mom that I am home with them. I got this. I did this.

When I was in the prisons on Sunday, I was panicking because our escorts weren't there when I wanted them to be. We were going to be late! Then there were two surprise speakers at our first prison when we were supposed to be the only part of the program. I panicked because they weren't on MY agenda. This was going to ruin everything. At the 2nd prison, it seemed to take forever to get prepared (we had to wait for the rotation and it seemed to be taking a lot of time), and I panicked about time. Again. At the 3rd prison, it took also forever to get prepared and I remembered that at Christmastime, this prison was the one that is super finicky about time so we had to get started straight away. And the inmate choir director kept talking to me about getting them music for the Christmas program and I didn't really know how to make a decision and anyway, while we were doing our program, during the 2nd song which was a solo, I was looking out at all the offenders and suddenly this calm came over me. Suddenly I realized, this is not my program. This is not my choir. I'm here because God wants us here and because He loves these offenders so much. This isn't about me. I realized I needed to stop trying to control it. And I gave the rest of the day to Him. And I sat back and enjoyed the program, enjoyed the choir, without worrying about what is going to happen next. And I felt a Heavenly nudge to apply this thought to my life. I need to stop trying to control it! I can't anyway. I can make the best choices I know how. I can be the best mother I know how. I can forgive myself, and move forward every day. But even my best efforts cannot, will not, create the life I think I want.

Whatever happens today at work is what happens today at work. This is not my world. I will not fear because I don't need to. Oh, God, let me keep this reassurance throughout this day, especially at work!

Besides that, it's not what I do at work that matters most. It's what I do at home. And I've been really doing better at home, as a parent, as a responsible adult.

Addiction is an illusion of control. I don't mean the addiction itself. But when I rush to pornography, masturbation, food, kissing, Pepsi, Facebook, etc., it's because I'm afraid of real life. It's because something in real life has threatened my sense of control. And if I can't control real life, then I'm going to do something I can control. My addictive behaviors do give me a momentary sense of control. When life is crazy, I feel like I can calm it down with anything on the above list. But, I logically understand that the opposite is true. Those behaviors make my life even more unmanageable and quickly get totally out of my control.

Control itself is simply an illusion. I hope to soon understand that with my heart.

I Was in Prison, and ye Came unto Me / ONE YEAR

I should really make this two separate posts, but the reality is, it won't happen. So, two posts in one:

I spent time in four prisons today. It was an amazing experience.

But, first, let's talk about a timeline here. One year ago today, I posted this post about what is a Rock Bottom. That post was really a decision for me. That post was about the time I was really working on Step 3, the step that changed my life when I finally DID it. The day before that, I slipped. At that point, I think I had never gone beyond 35 days of sobriety. Never, since, like, 2007. And before that, I dunno. December 15 one year ago is when sobriety began accompanying my recovery. 78 days after December 15, I slipped. 78 days was HUGE. It was an insane improvement from my normal 2 week cycle, and over 100% further than my previous record. Oh, I was pretty devastated that day, but come on, that was a miracle! Even now, I'm still tempted to scold myself and say "so-and-so has been sober since they first attended an ARP meeting," or "so-and-so's haven't taken nearly as long to recover as I have." But, I'm trying not to go there. Okay, so anyway, after 78 days, I did not relapse. It was a slip, and that was it, which is another miracle. Previously, any slip meant a relapse, just about. I only made it about 30 days before my next slip, but that was another slip, and not a relapse. And then! Then I made it past 78, past 90, past 100, somewhere around 150, I THINK. I don't know the exact number, but it was and still is my record. I slipped again back in August and it was my worst slip yet, in fact, it was a mini-relapse. I say mini because it lasted probably three or four days, but it was pretty rough in those 3-4 days. One of those days included a man, and the devastating loss of my temple recommend. And I realized I am still so sick. I realized I cannot be trusted in specific circumstances, and I realized I was still not over manipulating men. I hate even writing that! But, I have found that when I go back and read old posts, I appreciate details like this. It serves as a reminder, both of how far I've come, and of that I need to still be careful.

So that's the last time I slipped. That was 127 days ago. That's something like three times in one year, with the last time having a few incidents. As I write that, I weep, I weep at the miracle! If you would have asked me 18 months ago if I thought I could go one year and only indulge in my addiction three times, or seven or eight times, even, I couldn't have believed you. I couldn't have believed I could ever have such a year. I couldn't have imagined such freedom. I was in a place where 2 weeks was too hard.

Oh, my sweet Redeemer, I am healed by Thy grace.

I don't know what next year holds. Three slips? One? None? Who knows. I'm just working on today. And tonight, as Sidreis says, I'm going to bed safe.

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Okay! Onto the prison story! Oh my goodness! I haven't ever written here about it, but for the past 3 years, I have been a member of a choir whose sole purpose is to sing at the LDS Christmas services in the local prisons. We begin practicing in September of each year and in the middle of December, we take our choir and travel to the prisons and present our program. Every year, it is an amazing, humbling, inspiring experience. My first year there, I remember how clear it was made to me that those who are incarcerated are my brothers and sisters. They are one bad choice away from me, some of them. You know? I remember thinking, my first time, some of these people are addicts, like me. Their addictions are probably more illegal than mine, but who's to say they're more dangerous? I remember thinking I'm just like they are, only free to choose! I remember thinking how similar I am to those precious offenders. Not in addiction, not in sin, but in humanness. We're the same, I saw.

I tell you what, God is in the prisons.

Every year thereafter, I have been struck by how human they are. They are kind and gracious, at least to our choir, and they have immeasurable worth in the sight of God.

Earlier this year, our choir director moved to Utah (hey, SLC peeps, look out for Jenny McKinney- she may do a prison choir next year!), and when she asked me to take over the choir here for her, I eagerly accepted! I was so excited! So, this year, I got to be the director. I have had choir practices every Saturday night at my house for past several months. For as scattered and disorganized I am, it all went rather well. But, then, the choir is full of 15 fantastic women, so not much could go wrong. ;)

Each year, we have some brief speaking parts along with our song selection. This year, I decided to have the choir talk about some of their personal stories of belief and hope. Our theme was "Be Believing." I shared about addiction recovery, you bet I did. In every service, the ARP program was mentioned by the brother who conducted (a bishop or other appointed volunteer from outside the prisons). In my story, I made sure to mention how the ARP program has been a blessing for me. Many inmates expressed gratitude to me, after the program, for sharing my story. One of the Priesthood Holders thanked me specifically, and said he had heard my story before (I think at a Speaker's Meeting? He said a training meeting, so it was either that or a facilitator training meeting I attended once) and he'd hoped I would share it because, he said, "they need it." I was so grateful I was in a place to share it and use my past hell to maybe, hopefully, inspire someone else, or at least maybe offer a glimmer of hope that recovery is possible. Last year I couldn't have done it. The years before, I wouldn't have even almost dared to share!

Today was the day we'd been practicing for. Our first prison was a women's prison, and the next three were men's. As the director, I have a little more insight into God's love for our brothers and sisters who are incarcerated. As I put together the program, I was guided- clearly, unmistakably guided- as to what music I should include, what our speaking parts should be, even the order of songs. I was in awe at how important these inmates are to our Heavenly Father. So important, that He cares about a musical program that will be heard at four prisons in Idaho, by a small percentage of the inmates. He cares about them so much, that He would guide an uneducated choir director about the very songs to include. It is astonishing to me, though not surprising. It is humbling, so very, very humbling. God loves the least of us. He counts us all. None are forgotten.

And, as I was searching the faces of the precious offenders, I was blessed with a glimmer of what God thinks of them. I recalled the guidance I'd had in organizing the program as I looked at my brothers and sisters, and I was flooded with love. And it's interesting to think that I don't know anything about them. I don't know who they are or why they're there. I don't know what choices they made to lead them to lose their freedom and contact with their families. I don't know anything, but all I could feel was love. I couldn't see their mistakes. I couldn't see their sins. I couldn't feel anything but love. And I think that's how God sees us. Oh, He is just, and we will pay consequences for our poor choices, but when He looks at me, and you, He doesn't see our sins and our mistakes. At least not in a way that would change or block His love. He sees our hearts and He loves us no matter what. It's not about what we have done! We are His children, and His love will not, cannot, change nor diminish.

And the sweetest of all about this is, if Heavenly Father is aware of the needs of the inmates in Idaho - and I know He is, because He led me - then He is also aware of my needs. God is fair and just and no one, to Him, matters more than me. No one matters more than you. No one matters more than each of those inmates. He loves each of us, like there's only one of us, and He loves each of us always.

That is what I know today. I saw His love today. I felt His love. I know His love, and how sweet it is to feel it! How sweet it is to feel it toward others, and toward myself.

What a blessed experience. What an incredible opportunity. I can't wait for next year!

Matthew 25:36, 40-
I was in prison and ye came to me.
Inasmuch as ye have done it unto the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.