From Courage to Change of Jul 20:
In the past, joy was a rare visitor to many of us. Al-Anon recovery often leads us to find it more frequently. But instead of sitting back and enjoying these pleasant moments, we tend to cling desperately to happiness, trying to freeze time and hold change at bay, as if our joy will be snatched away forever the moment our guard is down. We can become too busy avoiding change to enjoy the gifts we fear to lose. By clutching at what we most want to keep, we lose it all the more rapidly.
Change is inevitable. We can depend on that. When we become willing to accept change, we make room for a loving God. By letting go of our efforts to influence the future, we become freer to experience the present, to feel all of our feelings while they are happening, and to more fully enjoy those precious moments of joy with which we are blessed.
Today’s Reminder
Today I will try to open myself to receive the abundance God holds out to me by experiencing what is and allowing God to diced what will be.
“The harder we try to catch hold of the moment, to seize a pleasant sensation . . . , the more elusive it becomes. . .. It is like trying to clutch water in one’s hands – the harder one grips, the faster it slips through one’s fingers.” ~ Alan Watts
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Joy has often felt like an intruder—unexpected, fragile, and fleeting. In those days, I didn’t know how to welcome it. But recovery has shown me that joy doesn’t have to be a stranger. It can live here, with me. It can visit often. But when it does, a part of me still panics. A part of me thinks: This won’t last. Something will go wrong. I have to hold on tight, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
And that’s when the grip begins. I tense. I try to freeze time. I try to control the uncontrollable—because underneath that beautiful feeling is an old fear: that if I relax, if I trust, joy will slip away like it always has.
But here’s the truth recovery teaches me gently, again and again: clutching doesn’t preserve joy—it strangles it. Like water in my palms, the more I try to keep it, the more quickly it escapes. I become so focused on protecting the gift, I forget to experience it.
Change is inevitable. Loss and gain, fear and joy, are part of the same breath. But when I soften my grip—when I allow change, allow joy, allow pain—I also make space for grace. I make room for a loving God to surprise me. Not with a perfectly controlled life, but with a deeper peace, even in the chaos.
I choose not to chase joy or hoard it. I will receive it as it comes and let it go as it must. I will trust that more is always on the way. I will be present, not because it guarantees happiness, but because it honors the truth: that this moment is sacred, and it’s enough.
Recovery isn’t about building a fortress around my joy—it’s about learning to swim in it, even as the tide shifts.
And so, I open my hands. I let both fear and joy pass over and through me.
Daily Reprieve 
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