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Noah oh my Noah update

People are asking so I'm writing. 

Noah is alive (As I write. I never know for sure since my blog gets to you 24 hours after I write it, but as far as I know right now August 7, 2017 10:25 am... he's alive)

He's at a sober living facility, and has been there since July 14th. He went through treatment originally April 24- May 30 and then went to sober living but relapsed on June 21st, ending up in the ER three times in three days. Back to treatment for 21 days, he is now in another sober living (the other one wouldn't take him back because he gave drug information to patients)

Burning bridges he plows through life. At least bridges are abundant. Life is abundant. Never doing anything halfway, runs in his blood.

Today (Monday) is his first day at his new job, Buffalo Wild Wings. In the kitchen, he loves to cook, I'm a little nervous. "Isn't that place a bar?" I ask him.

"No, they have liquor but it's not like a bar ." -Noah Steinle

I'm supposed to let him make his own decisions, lead his own life, do his own recovery. So I am. 

Biting nails in my mind, I bring my requests, worries, love to the throne of the Universe aka God. I choose to keep believing because what's the alternative? Fear. 

I remember Pip, my cardinal of choice. He flew and landed on my fencepost April 23rd, the night before Noah went to treatment. Noah sat smoking on the glider, annoyed. I sat in the stiff chair, the one meant for display only, to be near him but not enveloped in his puff cloud.  It was 8 pm, long past bird bedtime, but Pip knew I needed him. 

Minnesota winter–long, cold and bleak, runs endless. But, one random morning you get up, don the robe and walk to the kitchen. Sleep in your eyes, hair tousled from dreams, lines from the bed sheets line your face, you make the coffee. Glancing out the window to the lawn, you see him. There, pecking the few glades of grass peeking through the trying-to-melt snow is the red bird. Choosing today to show up, showing you spring is coming when you never thought it would. 

Choosing to remember, choosing to hope when the situation looks scary, bleak, uncertain, winter, Buffalo Wild Wing-ish, I tell myself chin up. Chin up and believe. KNOW that there is a plan for his life, a plan for mine. 

 He said he's dreamed of tennis recently. I encouraged him to find a job at a country club, even one day a week. He could find a racket in the trash, win a match eyes closed, one hand tied behind his back. Why flip burgers if you can swing a racket like him?

His choice how to live, my choice how to let go. Choose daily to believe in the impossibility of awesomeness. Look forward to how the Universe can use him and how he can he can use the Universe. 

Always believe Shelley. That's your choice. 

shelley steinley