The Detox Porch

For the moment, how I got there is not important. It is enough for now to simply admit that I was there.

It was God’s way of putting me in “Time Out” - A twelve week “Time Out” to be exact.
My first day:

Lynetta kissed me good bye. We both cried, and then she drove away. It was the most alone I had ever been in my entire life. It was a loneliness that I could touch, taste, and smell. It made it hard for me to breath.

“Detox” is at first glance a musty old basement. It is filled with lost souls of every description. Most of which are not even aware of where they are. It was obvious that I didn’t belong there. I tried to tell them – but they wouldn’t listen.

First they took away my cell phone. Then they searched my luggage – every pocket, every sock, every pair of neatly folded underwear. I told them that I was an honest man, and that I had not hidden anything. It was about then that they made me undress and submit to a strip search. We had a communication problem. They thought that I was just like the other drug addicts and alcoholics. They treated me just like they treated the crack heads, and the meth mouth junkies – just like the guy hallucinating and slobbering all over himself in the corner. What was their problem!

They took me to my room. The room was dark, and musty. It appeared clean enough, but it reminded me of a cheap motel where they only wash the sheets once a week whether they need it or not. The mattress and the pillows were all cover with plastic. As a nurse, I knew exactly why they did that.

Other than my room the only other place that I was allowed to go was out to the “Detox Porch.” That, I learned quickly, was where every one went to smoke and listen to the seasoned veterans (anyone who had been in “Detox” for more than 2 days.) The veterans would tell stories of the craziest most messed up people they had seen come through so far. The stories somehow made the rest of us feel a little better. We could always say “well, at least I’m not that bad – yet”.

I avoided the “porch” for as long as I could. I tried hiding in my room, but the room always felt like it was on the verge of vomiting me out into the hall. I prayed a lot. I asked over and over again how God could allow me – of all people – to be stuck in a place like this.
It didn’t take long for God to answer.

Have you ever experienced “The Look”? You know, when a parent or your spouse looks at you with a stern glare. The one where if looks could kill, you’d be toast? Well, I didn’t actually see God’s “Look” – but I felt it. It was the “just who, do you think you are?” look. “Do you really think you are any better, smarter, or more deserving than any one of these people?” “How dare you!”

God spoke to me that night. Not in words that anyone could hear. But I got the message loud and clear. The message was this:

“Do you see these broken people on the “Detox Porch?” “They are my family.” “I love them all very dearly”. “Go out and meet them.” “You will love them too.”
It was at that moment that I surrendered. I did belong. I deserved to be there. I really was just like every one else.

I went and sat right between the worst looking two on the porch. The smoke was choking me, but I really didn’t care. They were absolutely wonderful people. They were real people. They were open and honest. What you saw was what you got. I learned later that there were millionaires and homeless folks on that porch that night - people with everything – and people with nothing.

There we were all children of God - and nothing else mattered.

Lord, Help me to never forget – That nothing else ever matters.