As January swiftly turns to February, I shift my focus from Step One (powerlessness) to Step Two (being restored). I did a written exercise that I learned from a friend, who heard about it at a conference. I'm convinced that there are very few new ideas in our recovery program, but I am always grateful for the cross-pollination that happens when we attend out-of-town meetings, conferences, or just different groups here at home, then bring what we've heard into our regular meetings. And I love hearing from the travelers who make it to my home groups - different accents, different emphasis, new perspectives. Thank you!

The exercise has to do with the God Box, that handy, tangible tool for letting go (mine is a lovely little hinged box, decorated by a sponsee). Ideally, I write the object of my obsession on a tiny piece of paper, put it in the box and shut the lid. Presto. OK, so I don't always stop thinking of the issue du jour, but the act of writing and physically letting go is a helpful reminder that I am not in charge. By writing down a situation for the God Box, I am admitting my powerlessness, and seeking the restoration of sanity promised in Step Two. Please, HP, help me release my worries to your care.

The idea, then, is to go back through the God Box periodically and jot down outcomes. What happened with my brother's health? My ex's health? My worries over a particular speaking commitment? And on and on. Making note of both positive and painful outcomes, I was reminded that Creator provides strength to walk through all of it, with relative grace and dignity. Not without tears, or sadness, or butterflies, but walking through nonetheless.

I used to have a sealed "God Can." For years I stuffed worries and concerns, insecurities and fears into the little slot. For a long time, I thought it would be cheating to open the can, but last summer decided it was time. Prying open the lid, I found crumpled or neatly folded notes about jobs, relationships, my mom's illness, getting married, health, finances, running goals - nothing too big or too small. That's the beauty of a God Box - it contains what worries me, without concern for what anyone else might think. Just like the box I went through this week, nearly all those things I'd crammed into the can had resolved, in one way or another. And that's the point, right? It all works out, one way or another.

There were a few unfinished items in my current God Box. I jotted down the current date, and recommitted to trust, closing the lid once again on my mental gyrations. What do you do to remind yourself to "let go and let god?" What would you put in the God Box today?