For years I white-knuckled life, thinking I was steering everything myself. A simple practice called a God box changed my ability to let go. A woman in my fellowship gave me a little wooden box with tiny paper and a tiny pen. She said when I couldn’t let something go, write it down, put it in the box, and close the lid. The sound of that lid shutting became a signal of release. This practice was a physical representation of accepting I couldn’t control other people or outcomes. Over time this loosened my grip on the anxiety and stress that used to consume me.

Letting go came easier after first grabbing hold of the program, meetings, people, and suggestions. Coming to believe has been a series of choices that required willingness and openness. I could no longer pick and choose the suggestions to follow from others in recovery. I am beginning to fold faith into my life like chocolate chips are folded into cookie dough. 

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