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I sit here today astounded to be writing a preface for the fortieth anniversary edition of my first book, Each Day a New Beginning: Daily Meditations for Women. I could not have imagined back in 1981, when I started penning (ballpoint penning, in fact), those thoughts that a book would come to fruition. My search was for God. I wasn’t intent on writing a book at all. But I needed to feel His presence and He seemed “right there” when I sat in my very old, hand-me-down brown recliner and put pen to paper. I never fully understood the process, but I simply didn’t question it, and let the flow of it carry me. And I knew, at an unspoken level, that God was carrying me too during those precious moments.
My own struggle to know God was paramount when I first entered the twelve-step rooms. I seemed to be surrounded by women and men who had the kind of relationship with God that I yearned for, but I simply didn’t understand how to make the connection. I read books, of course. One that meant so much was The Practice of the Presence of God by Brother Lawrence, a book given to me by my dear mother-in-law, Ruth, who worried so about me and my struggle to feel God’s presence. I loved Brother Lawrence’s words and felt warmly comforted while reading them, but then the “magic” would dissipate and I’d feel desperately alone again.
Another book that had an impact was On Becoming a Musical, Mystical Bear by Matthew Fox. Just make God your friend and companion, he said. His words were so gentle and accessible. I loved doing what he suggested and, while cozily sitting in my brown recliner, I felt like “my friend” showed up with words of encouragement day in and day out. But unfortunately, those words didn’t sustain me when I rejoined my husband or other friends. The sense of aloneness was the constant of my life.
What I have come to understand, and to treasure in my forty-six years of recovery, is that God was always carrying me, even before I believed in the concept of God. I love the realization I now have that He always believed in me whether I believed in Him or not. That’s the beauty of God, isn’t it? He can’t leave our side ever because He is always within us. He has no choice! And neither do we. Hallelujah.
That the writings that comprised Each Day a New Beginning ever became a book owes all to Harry Swift, the director of Hazelden at the time of my angst. I was working there, and for some reason (perhaps his assignment from God), he took an interest in my recovery and my life. I shared with him my struggle to connect with a Higher Power and told him about the writing I was doing to try to find Him. Surprisingly, he asked to see what I had written, and the rest is history, as they say. He was confident that other women might relate to my dilemma. I really hadn’t ever considered that. It wasn’t about my being selfish, but rather, I felt pretty sure that what I had to say wouldn’t mean anything to others. God and I were making a special connection. That’s all I knew. And I hungered for it daily.
No one was more surprised than me that, when the book was published in December of the following year, it “flew off the shelves.” And now more than 3.5 million copies later, it still strikes a chord with many women—and, I’ve been told, many men too. I’m not so sure it’s due to any special wisdom I had then or have now, but my yearning to know God was felt and understood by many souls who were wandering the same path that so clearly had captivated me.
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