How I Was Introduced To My G.O.D.

I began my journey in recovery on life support in a hospital. I woke up to nurses trying to

calm me down because I still thought I was fighting for my life. Just one day prior, 3 men I

knew from the streets during my homelessness had done their best to murder me and

succeeded. I had no idea, but a person I had known over the years witnessed it all and

called the emergency services to come and revive me twice. Upon reflection, my first

G.O.D. shot.

As the nurses continued their best efforts to calm me down so I would not rip out any of

the tubes from my body, one walked around the back of me, and I believe she hit a

button to administer sedatives. I immediately felt the presence of something beautiful

and powerful in that room, and a hand touched my forehead. My second G.O.D. shot

Six months later, now well into my recovery journey, I sat on my sober living patio and

received a phone call from my sister Katie, who was crying. She said, "You're going to

think I’m crazy, but I called a psychic," and my first response was, "Yeah, I kind of already

do". But we laughed it off together, and she continued. "I called them, and all I said was my

name." They interrupted her to say that she had lost a father figure, to which she responded "yes", as our father had died when she was much younger. The psychic told her, “He’s coming through. He has a message for your brother. Tell him that I was with him in the hospital. If he doesn’t get it this time, it’s his last chance, and he’ll be with me soon.” My third G.O.D. shot.

Two years later, I went to get a tattoo with some friends, and when we arrived, I quickly

figured out they were getting something that I wasn’t going to do. I sat there and

looked at the artist's work; it was all great, but nothing caught my eye in the hours I

watched them get theirs. But my eyes kept going to a small scribbled phrase over his

shoulder, and I would later find out his son had drawn it. So I left without getting a tattoo, but on the drive home, it hit me. The words his son had scribbled were LAST CHANCE. I

immediately called and made an appointment, and when the day arrived, I parked my

car and looked up. Wrapped around the building in bright, tall letters, Last Chance

Tattoo Shop. My 4 th G.O.D. shot.

I’ve spent most of my life completely blocked from believing in anything bigger than me.

I came into recovery and just kept saying "ok" and doing the things they told me to do,

really out of pain and desperation, despite how I felt about them, and along the way, the

universe revealed itself to me in ways I could have never imagined or foreseen. It’s in

the willingness to seek, regardless of how we feel, that we find.