Glen O. wrote the following letter while he was in a drug rehabilitation center in Denver, Colorado.
Thank you for my moment of sobriety, this moment
Thank you for the dirty toilets and my desire to clean them
Thank you for my heart that wants to love and be loved and isn’t afraid to love
Thank you for every woman you have placed in my path
Thank you for the breath I take, and the miracle of my human body
Thank you for my children, Paul and Hannah
Thank you for the God spirit in me that wants to be reborn, that wants to be a man
Thank you for my mind and the talents and the forgiveness of who I am
Thank you for my sense of humor and willingness to see the humanity in me
Thank you for my addictions and the special yearning and seeking challenges they present
Thank you for another chance to get back up here at safe harbor
Thank you for the forgiveness and mercy I feel through your love
Thank you for the belief that pushes me to find something to believe in
Thank you for this world and the resolve around me
Thank you for my loneliness
Thank you for everything I haven’t thanked you for
But especially thank you for right now, this moment of doubt, faith, fear, confusion, love, anger; many of these emotions are states that were within me that let me know that I am still alive and that it isn’t over yet
I’m still alive, that it isn’t over yet
That I still want to grow and not just exist, that I still have a mission and purpose for which I am blind
Thank you Oh Lord for the possibilities
Glen died in a crack house two weeks after he wrote this letter. His friends glow with Glen-ness whenever they talk about him. His outrageous sense of humor, his artistic genius, his innate need to go all out.
Glen wasn’t an addict. He was addicted to drugs.
It isn’t over yet. You still exist.
You still exist.