Once upon a life

Yesterday, leaving Alpine and heading toward Fort Davis, I witnessed something that has stayed with me. A beautiful West Texas storm was rolling across the desert, headed straight toward us. You could see it coming from miles away. The mountains were disappearing beneath those dark clouds. The sky was changing colors. The wind had picked up, carrying that unmistakable smell of rain across the desert—the kind of smell that makes you roll down the window and breathe a little deeper. There was thunder somewhere in the distance. And then we saw him. A massive jackrabbit standing alongside the highway. He stood up tall on those long legs, lifted his head toward the darkening sky, and just stayed there. He wasn't running. He wasn't scrambling for cover. He wasn't afraid. For a few seconds, it almost looked like he was welcoming the storm. Like he could feel what was coming. Like after days of West Texas heat beating down on that dry earth, he knew those clouds weren't bringin...

Eighteen years ago today, I made one of the most important phone calls of my life. I was sitting in front of my parents' house, high as I had ever been. I don't know what possessed me to pull up and ask to use their phone, but I did. I asked my dad for Richard K.'s phone number. The conversation lasted less than a minute. Me: "Hey, Richard." Richard: "Are you done?" Me: "Yes." Richard: "I got a place for you." Me: "I'll see you tomorrow." That was it. That was the last day I ever used. Looking back, I know that phone call changed everything. It was the beginning of a new life—one I couldn't even imagine that day. Eighteen years later, I'm still grateful that I made that call, and even more grateful that Richard answered. Love you, Richard. Thank you for believing in me when I couldn't believe in myself. Tomorrow WE celebrate 18 years clean. I'm finally legal. 

Do you ever get burned out? Yeah. Of course I do. This work is hard. Sometimes it’s thankless. Sometimes it’s heartbreaking. There are days when you pour everything you have into somebody and wonder if any of it made a difference. And there’s a quiet scorecard in your head. The people you couldn’t reach. The doors that stayed closed. The setbacks. The losses. The times you gave everything you had and nobody said thank you. But somewhere along the way, I made peace with the lack of thank-yous. Because that was never the point. The point is the heart behind the work. Sometimes the victory looks like someone finding a home. Sometimes it’s someone making it through another night. Sometimes it’s watching someone come back and try again. And sometimes, the victory is something quieter. A beautiful soul recently went to heaven from the comfort of their own home, surrounded by the people who loved them. They didn’t die alone on a sidewalk. They didn’t die in an alley. They didn’t die in a jail...