You can’t get there from here!

[Boleo]

When I was in rehab on a farm in Colorado, I was one of the few residents who still had their driver’s license. When the staff found out about this they offered me a job as a shuttle bus driver. This looked like an easy job to me as I could; sit all day, be near an air conditioner and even listen to the radio (something not allowed in the other work environments.

Besides, it was a big step up from my old job, which was that of a goat-herder (actually I was an assistant goat-herder – for some reason the staff did not trust me alone with the goats). The new job was slow and easy-going most of the time, except I spent most of my day driving the other residents to and from their appointments. Half of them complained that I drove too slow, the other half complained that I drove too fast and whenever I had to go someplace that I was not familiar with I had to rely on their directions. For some reason they would let me know about the next turn halfway through the intersection and then complain that I squealed the tires.

Sometimes when things were slow I had a little time to do some sightseeing. I made it a point to visit every little town nearby at least once just for the novelty. One day I heard an ad on the radio for some business in Old Roach Colorado. This sounded like an interesting name for a town and I wondered if it was close enough for me visit in my spare time. I knew a resident who was born and raised in the local area so I asked him;
“Is Old Roach far from here?” Oh no, he replied, but you can’t get there from here.


My brain analyzed this statement; “You can’t get there from here”, and told me; “obviously someone got there from somewhere”. I was dumbfounded. I felt a feeling of anger coming on but I bit my tong and said nothing. However, I did make a mental note that I would somehow prove this imbecile wrong.

I eventually found a map of Colorado, got myself a pen and proceeded to draw out the route between where I was and Old Roach. It was not easy since I was east of the Rocky Mountains and Old Roach was more or less west of them. When I finished with my charting, I imagined myself holder this map up to the offending parties nose and screaming “See you moron, this is how you get THERE from HERE.

When I held it up in front of me to see how it would look at nose level, I realized that the charted course that I had sketched looked exactly like a crude drawing of a C-clamp. The guy was right, “You can’t get there from here” without going way out of the way first. I felt a sense of humility and shame, I was wrong, he was right and I could not help but wonder if I owed the guy an apology.




This emotion triggered an old memory that I had of my sponsor poking me in the forehead and chest, then saying, “the greatest distance in the world for you to cross is the eighteen inches between your brain and your heart. It suddenly dawned on me that I had a mountain of pride in the way. The analogy was perfect; I realized that needed to go out of the way first. But where?

Humility is what triggered this revelation; perhaps humility could get around my mountain of pride as well. I prayed to God to teach me the meaning of true humility.
This turned out to be the biggest mistake that I have ever made. By a series of amazing coincidences, nearly all of the lies, transgressions and deceptions that I had done since going into rehab backfired on me at the same time. One of my closest friends, who I had confided in since day one, suddenly found Jesus and felt it necessary to confess not only all of his own transgressions but what he knew of mine as well. I was expelled from the rehab program within three days of saying my prayer.

I found myself suddenly living on the streets, broke, destitute, and 1200 miles from home. I shuffled my two suitcases back and forth between a Catholic Services Center during the day and a Rescue Mission at night. I had to wait in line for 3 hours to get a bed and I had to listen to a one-hour sermon to get a free meal. I slept in a hall with 200 homeless men at night and showered with fifty naked bums in the morning.

I felt as though God had played a dirty trick on me. It reminded me of Einstein’s quote “There are two things of which I am certain; there is a God and I am not him”. Only my proclamation was “There is a God and I am certain that he hates me”.

The irony of the situation was that in spite of all the tragic evidence surrounding me, I somehow felt a sense of peace and optimism. Much to my surprise, I had no temptation to drink as well (for the first time in years). I have come to accept that this was God's way of teaching me that true humility (as St. Augustine believed) is the foundation of all other virtues. Including optimism and courage.