Moving into March, my focus turns to Step Three – turning my will and my life over to the care of a Power Greater than myself. I take this step every morning as I start the day with a cup of tea, a daily reader or two, and my journal, but in March, as part of the Step Group I participate in, I focus more intently on how this practice of "turning it over" works in my life.

In contemplating Step Three, I go back to One and Two, and more precisely, that space between powerlessness and hope. Step One says, “I’m screwed. I’m beat. I can’t do this anymore.” And then the sliver of emotional space, the deep inhale of “now what?” followed by the exhaling relief of hope. There is another way. I can be restored to sanity.

I think I hovered there too, in that pause between hope and whatever was next. I had no idea, but thought I was supposed to know. I thought I was supposed to be able to figure it out, be strong, just quit, damn it. And then, the blessed relief of surrender. Step Three – Higher Power, I can’t do this anymore – you take over.

And I come to that place of surrender again and again, as I find myself caught up in the daily to-do’s, sometimes forgetting that all I really need to do is show up with an open mind and an open heart. Of course, there are things to do, people to see, laundry to fold, and underlying it all is the deep understanding that my true purpose is spiritual purpose.

Over the last month or so, I’ve had occasion to confront old losses that maybe weren’t losses after all. I’ve had the opportunity to take a step back from a story I’ve long told myself in order to see a piece of my history in a new light. Surrender takes many forms – the dramatic, on my knees in tears surrender of my addiction, and the often more subtle letting go of various old ideas. Always, always, that moment of surrender is pure relief. I  may not know what’s next, but in that moment of hands-in-the-air, I-give-up is the blessed, soothing emptiness of submission to Higher Power's will, not mine.

In my Tuesday morning meeting, we set placards with various slogans in the middle of the room. I look forward to seeing what my “message of the day” is, much like I viewed the daily readers as a horoscope in early recovery – what is coming my way today?  This week, I sat in front of Keep It Simple. How often I forget that basic reminder and skew toward complication, if only in my mind.  Surrender is simple. Letting go is simple. The complication comes when I get stuck in pre-Step One, momentarily forgetting that I am, indeed, powerless – over drugs and alcohol, and so much more. I've heard resentment described as the feeling that occurs when I forget my powerlessness, over people, places and things. Yes, and how often I forget. 

In the past couple of weeks, I've heard and talked with several people confronting the disease of addiction in others - a young family member who has reached the point of asking for help, another family who's member has been sneaking drinks after completing treatment, another who hears slurred words on the phone when sobriety was expected. Watching someone's struggles, knowing that each person must come to that moment of acknowledging a problem and asking for help themselves, is painful when we're talking about a life threatening illness. This is surrender through gritted teeth. What I'll sometimes pray for is that I be shown how I can be helpful, which isn't always what I think it should be.

When all is well, my daily surrender is an exercise in remembering, an aligning of my intention for the day with the spiritual principles of our program. When life isn't unfolding as I'd have wished, surrender is my effort to move out of the way. How do you practice the surrender of Step Three, this month and always?