The often looked over, skimped upon, and dismissed principle in the twelve steps is that of the amends process. The principle of going out to those you have hurt trying to set things straight. It's not easy and can be wrapped up in fear but as one who has walked into the most brutal of them, I can testify that the worth in this part of the process described with words here will fall far short. (I've witnessed countless people fail to follow through in this area and ultimately land back on the drink, or worse, become a messier shipwreck.)

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Now why would I want to bring this up in this part of the writing and what does this have to do with where we are in the story at this point? It was an experience with one of the most difficult amends I had to make that fits here and speaks directly to what another has observed in me my entire life, even if only from afar.

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I mentioned that my father quickly remarried, and that this marriage came with a set of children that were introduced to me as my "stepsisters." From the very start I tried to curry favor with my new stepmother. It never worked. I knew it and she knew it. Words did not have to be spoken between us to express this, it just wasn't there between us. Have you ever had a relationship where no words had to be spoken, where the lack of words clearly defined the roles and depth, or lack of depth, in the relationship? It was like that between her and I.

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As much as neither one of us cared for each other there were times in my life where I hurt this woman. Sometimes it was not intentional and at others it indeed was. As ironic as it is that she would be the one amends that I would learn the most from she would also be the one "parent" that I would learn the most from. Talk about a paradox.

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Step nine calls for the direct amends to those we have harmed, and this must be done without harming others in the process. This can be a slippery proposition, and a bit of wiggle room is there to hedge if you ask me, yet this feature is clearly important.

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When I came out of the process of these steps, the heavy lifting part, the self-examination and sharing of what was found, I set out to tackle that long list of people that needed to be approached. Naturally my parents were on the top of the list. I called my father to arrange a time for us to meet. There was going to be a 50/50 shot on whether he would agree to meet. I placed the call, and he said he would think about it and call me back. Who could blame him? I'd been ambushing the poor bastard my entire life with blame and contempt. He probably felt an immediate need to protect himself.

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The call came a day or so later and he agreed to meet with me. Being fresh out of the process with an experience I never had before, an immediate reconnection to God and a pretty explosive spiritual upheaval and being a novice at this amends process with that underlying God-consciousness I never thought to ask, include, or invite his wife into the meeting. I didn't realize this until I walked into the front door of their home.

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I was full of fear as I drove an hour and a half to their place. I listened to soothing music to try and calm my spirit. I was going to come clean for nearly a lifetime of wrongs and what amounted to a mountain of bullshit I put him through. It might even cost me money, and of course I still carried the fear of rejection and the idea that what others thought of me was significant.

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As I pulled into their driveway everything in me, the old me that was quickly being tossed aside, screamed "What are you fucking crazy going in there? Run. Turn around. Go home to your wife and children." The death of the ego is downright nasty; it's like an exorcism. But there was Something Else there I couldn't see or touch, but I definitely felt It. And a peace came over me as I opened the door of my truck to go in.

As I walked to the door and went in I was filled with panic. I never thought to include my stepmother and felt as though I already failed.

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Once we parted ways with talk about the drive up and the weather, she began to dismiss herself and made herself ready to leave. Something inside, a voice, an intuitive part that speaks to us at times very clearly and even loudly, pleaded with me to invite her into the conversation. She agreed to stay. I'll never know why she did. Maybe it was simply curiosity.

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As I began to lay out why I was there and the purpose of my visit it became easier to come clean for those many times I fell short in being a decent son and stepson. A decent human being.

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The many times I stole their pot. The gold chain I stole. The many times I lied to them. The many times I treated them with no respect. And on and on it went.

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Now here's the thing about living a life of spiritual sickness disconnected from God and trying to manage life, your thoughts and actions, on your own. Those delusions and lies we tell ourselves and the guilt, shame, and remorse that builds like that snowball grows to an insurmountable mountain of rubble. The damage left in my wake was drastic. I'll be paying for it one way or another for the rest of my life. It is a small price to pay as you will see.

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As I finished the door was opened for them to hold my feet to the fire. This is where the amends became uncomfortable but lent so much useful information to my transformation. My father went first and told a story about when he was twelve years old and a situation between him and his own father. It was a parable of sorts. I can't remember the meat of it but can recall the effect. My impression was that he passed forgiveness to me.

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Way back at the beginning of this journey I spoke to guiding forces being set by what is handed to us and what is formed by us in the way of those ideas, emotions, and attitudes. It was during the next part as my feet were held to the fire by my stepmother that I clearly had this concept defined for me.

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I mentioned that gold chain. I remember I stole this from the two of them when I was a teenager. I didn't even know why at the time. Spite? Yeah, that might be it. I took it, that's what I did. We will revisit this item later in the story.

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I was always accused of taking the chain, rightly so, but my position was that of denial and I came to believe that I didn't do it. When I came clean for this with the two of them and offered to make financial reparation for it the delusion I had been living with, including the attendant shame and remorse, was shattered. I was always told that the chain was a gift from my stepmother’s ex-husband and had sentimental value. On this day as I came clean and was being cleansed the truth was that my father and stepmother bought the chain hot from another person. It had no sentimental value and through their own grace they would not accept payment for it.

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I can put off the next part of what took place, but this is why I brought you to this Intermezzo. The greatest takeaway of what I experienced as a young child was that I thought I was defective. And what do most of us do with something that is irregular or defective? We cover it up. We put a mask on it in an attempt to change its front. It's look. This is what I began doing at a young age. I put a mask on and the effort after that was to keep the mask in place.

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Now my father shared a simple story, and all was cleared between us, for a time. Now it was my stepmother’s turn to hold my feet to the fire. This was an hour-long session of many statements on her part. Accusations some dead on and of which I took full responsibility for. Some were far off the mark and there was a sense of celebration within when I could rightly deny those. And then there were numerous questions. All of this took place in three 20-minute sessions with her taking a cigarette break in between. After the first twenty minutes of being hammered something amazing happened. I felt the Grace of God. I know this because I did not want to harm her, not even with a slap. The second twenty minutes saw more statements and a comment to the effect that she had been waiting for my "mask to fall off" for years. There it was!

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Now after about forty minutes or so of this conversation I became more and more at peace. My father on the other hand did not. He was becoming visibly uncomfortable. As his wife went outside to smoke he asked me if I still smoked. I said I did, and he looked at me with a look that pleaded "Don't you want to have a cigarette at this point?" I declined and said I was good. If you're a smoker you know that this is probably the most opportune time to do so. I felt good and besides she was telling me something of myself that I clearly needed to hear. And needed to understand about spiritual sickness at a deeper level.

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Her third time at the table brought about some declarative statements that landed in this realm.

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"I never wanted you as a son and never will."

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"I never liked you and never wanted to like you."

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"I never loved you and never wanted to love you."

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Now I know I may still have been under the spell of some delusional thinking but I'm confident that this is what I heard. The wording may not be exact, but it is most definitely what I inferred. This came out in the last twenty minutes of our meeting and as she made her way outside to smoke another cigarette, and a possible reload, I felt a kick within that told me "It's time to leave this place, you have done your part." Besides it was becoming a bashing session at this point, something I no longer accept.

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I told my father I had to go and started to put my coat on. By the time my stepmother returned my hat and gloves were on. I was able to thank them for their time. And before I left that intuitive kick propelled me to ask if I could call on them in the future.

The reply was yes. And then out of nowhere I asked my stepmother if I could give her a hug. Now that's not a normal reaction to what just took place. It's signs like this that tell me there is a God and if He is sought remarkable things will happen, if I can match His favor with effort. This has been my experience as you will see.