He Found Peace in a War Zone

Marvin sat at the dining room table, looking at the war zone.

His daughter was screaming at his fiancée. “You’re not my mother. You can’t tell me what to do.”

Her daughter was glaring at him.

He and his fiancée were glaring at each other.

This was his cue. He had tried to make this relationship work, but they had hit a wall. Her kid. My kid. Enemy camp. He couldn’t take it anymore. And he didn’t need this crap in his life.

It was so simple when I was alone, raising my daughter, being a single dad, Marvin thought, getting up from the table. This is all so complicated. Family histories, family business that doesn’t have anything to do with me. I just want peace and quiet again. I want my life back.

He watched his fiancée gather up the dishes from the table.

The problem is, he thought, I really love her. 

He grabbed his jacket and went outside for a long walk.

It wasn’t any deep, soul –searching moment, just a quiet prayer.

It looks like I’ve only got two choices, God, he said. Live in a war zone, or lose the woman I love.

Neither alternative felt acceptable to him.

He walked back to the house. He helped his fiancée finish cleaning the kitchen, kissed her cheek, and said he was going to bed. She said goodnight; she was going home. An unsettled tension filled the air. He knew this wasn’t hard just on him; it was hard on the woman he loved, too. It was a quiet moment of surrender when he chose to say to himself, I don’t know what to do.

That night he lay in bed, searching through his past. He’d been through a lot in his life. Getting sober, turning his life around. Going through a divorce. Now he was the head of a large company. Listening to people, helping them solve their problems, was a way of life for him. But he couldn’t seem to find the solution for the problems he was having with the people he loved most in his life.

Marvin searched his mind for a pattern of problem solving that had worked for him in the past. What were the common denominators every time he hit a wall, and finally broke through? He could find only two. Well, actually three. Make a commitment. Let go. Then find a way to serve and help people by what he was committing to do.

An idea occurred to him, a choice he hadn’t thought of before.

It was going to take time, commitment, and energy, but it just might work.

The next day, he called his fiancée at work.

She liked the idea, too.

Within three months, they were leading an informal support group for other families trying to blend. Every other group was open, so the children could attend, too. The group met for over two years. It gave those families the time and space to air their feelings and support each other through change.

Marvin has been married to the woman who was his fiancée for twelve years. “I didn’t have a clue if my idea would work or not,” Marvin says. “But holding the door open for others—helping other people—was how I learned the skills to be able to walk through that door myself.”

Holding the door open for others is a concept that’s been around for a long time. It’s the foundation of organizations such as Alcoholics Anonymous and other self-help groups.

Life is better when it’s shared, and that includes problems. Sometimes we hear an idea we haven’t thought of before, or gain a new perspective on what we’re going through. Other times, just hearing that other people feel the way we feel validates us, helps us accept ourselves, calms us enough to keep going.

We find courage, strength, and inspiration that we can’t find by ourselves.

I stopped by the coffee shop one day and ran into a friend who’s involved with a Twelve-Step program. He was sitting with a man who wasn’t involved with Twelve-Step groups and didn’t have much understanding of  them. My friend was trying to explain to this man why he kept working with newcomers to his particular Twelve-Step group.

“I’m not doing it to save their lives,” he explained. “I’m doing it to save mine. When I help them, I hear myself telling them what I need to do myself.”

There’s magic in service. There’s magic in a group.

If we want to get it for ourselves, we need to give it away.

Hard calls don’t always mean just two choices. Sometimes there’s a third: we can ask God to show us what to do.

From the book: Choices: Taking Control of Your Life and Making It Matter

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