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I believe all of us, at some point in our lives, are called to do an honest, thorough self‑examination of:
- our behavior,
- our motives,
- our temperament,
in order to understand who we are, how our actions affect other people, and in order to raise the level of our game.
It’s through such a self-examination that I came into a clearer understanding of this saying:
“They who sow the wind — reap the whirlwind.”
It came when I worked my 4th Step and saw two things:
- How I had sown the winds of chaos in the lives of others
- How the winds of chaos had been sown into mine
The whirlwinds blew in both directions.
Indeed, in my self-exploration I discovered my family tree was populated with people who knew how to “sow the wind.”
Sometimes life requires that we take on our own DNA.
After my 4th Step I asked myself if I could stop the chaos that had come to define my life.
No question loomed any larger when I made the decision to ask Marsha to marry me. What added even more weight to that decision was that in asking Marsha to be my wife — I was asking Erin to be my stepson.
And yet … I knew these storms still blew within me.
The seeds of chaos had been sown into me by my own parents’ chaotic maturing during the Great Depression and the Second World War.
Their parents, my grandparents, lived through the chaos and trauma of immigrating from Ireland.
So sowing the winds of chaos was NOT unfamiliar to my family.
And, need I mention the spectrum of alcohol?
- The great, illusionary storm-tamer
- The so-called chaos-slayer
Which, in truth, only breeds its own bad weather.
The question before me was simple, but immense: Would I — could I — stop the sowing of chaos into the life of my new family?
That question hovered over me as I entered marriage.
I knew I had to remain vigilant, grounded, and humble — or the chaos would return. I learned ways to clear my mind in order live with less anxiety.
But what really fueled my determination to quit the chaos and stop passing down turbulence — was my stepson, Erin.
You see, I had been raised by a father who possessed a temper, and his temper — scared me.
So much so that for years I resisted the idea of fatherhood, convinced I didn’t have it in me to be a good one. I feared I would simply recreate the same havoc that had been visited upon me. That fear ran deep.
But Marsha — and sobriety — changed all that.
My love for Marsha was bigger than my fear of fatherhood. Much bigger.
And by then, I had years of self-examination and sobriety behind me — proof that destructive patterns are not permanent.
I learned that with willingness, humility and rigorous honesty the winds of chaos could — and would — be calmed.
Then came my big test. It happened early in our marriage one night when Marsha, Erin and I had gone out to dinner.
Just as I was about to pull into a parking place a driver cut in front of me and snatched the spot.
I went ballistic!!!
My Irish temper, inherited from 100 generations of clansmen, blew through me like a whirlwind.
I bounded out of the car, fixed my eyes on the driver and readied myself to pummel the guy who stole my spot.
Then I froze in place and heard a primordial “NO!” scream through me.
- My hand dropped to my side,
- I got back into the car and found another parking spot.
That kind of behavior ended there. It has not surfaced again.
Erin — this precious boy, who would be my one and only opportunity to experience fatherhood — would receive my very best, each and every day.
The whirlwind of anger had finally been tamed.
There would be no chaos sown into our relationship — ever.
I had already learned the discipline of living one day at a time and practiced what I’d learned through fathering Erin — now a fine man.
So I bear witness to this truth:
The passing down of chaos from one generation to the next can end. It has ended in our household.
But like everything else in my life, it holds only this way — one day at a time.
Just a thought…
Pat
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