When I think of orphans, I think about malnourished children on TV with a sad song in the background. Or the literary versions like Oliver Twist. I remember my young cousins when their mother died of cancer. Saturday, while giving my mother’s eulogy, I realized…I am an orphan.
In January of 2018, my father succumbed to a long fight with a form of muscular dystrophy. After a rapid illness, this Saturday, my mother was gone as well. I had lost both parents within a year. The despair of that realization almost broke me.
In the grief that ensued, both before and after her death, I was reminded of the total helplessness I felt when I began a life in recovery. I had just come to terms with the powerlessness I had over my addiction. Step 2 gave me a glimmer of hope in that sea of turmoil: We came to believe that a power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.
Through working the Steps, through living a life of recovery, through His often painful intervention, He did restore me to sanity. That experience, knowing that He alone was the “helper of the fatherless,” sustains me now. I know that there is more to this story than now. For now, though, I hold on tight to Psalm 10:14.
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