Larry Winter

Recovery reminds us of something profoundly simple yet deeply challenging: love. Love for ourselves, and love for one another. To love ourselves is to accept that we are worthy, to be gentle with our mistakes, and to honor the courage it takes to keep showing up. In loving ourselves, we learn compassion, vulnerability, and gratitude […]

Millions of people in recovery believe we can manage our symptoms, and that belief carries us through the rhythms of daily life. Imagine sitting together in the quiet fields of Healing, the sun dipping low across the pasture. Reclining on the hay, we continue our conversation with the author of SuperHuman Being—someone who has written

We are a recovering people, and healing is our song. Joy is the keynote of the recovery movement, reminding us that we were created to taste happiness here on earth and know its fullness in the life to come. On our journey, we are invited to share the simple joys of living, loving, friendship, and

Walking the shore with the author of the Twelve Steps, we see her clutching them close—a gift, sacred and alive. She tells us they are not born of intellect but inspired by the Divine, shaped by her recovering community in Eau Claire. She chose not a list, but living guidance—truths spoken and lived by recoverees—that

Sometimes… we believe because we’ve seen it.Other times… we believe even when we haven’t. In Recovery, something is shifting—hearts and minds are being transformed. I’ve seen it between Roy and Quinton. The rest of us? We’re just blessed to watch it unfold. Quinton—just this week—opened his heart wide to the gift of Recovery. Roy looked

You may have heard of Angels in the Outfield, a story spun for the screen. But there is a truer, older tale—of angels in the farm fields. Saint Isidore the Farmer, born in 11th-century Spain, labored faithfully for his employer, yet never missed a moment of prayer. Legends tell of angels plowing his fields while

Notice how flowers grow. Do you have a favorite? Lilies are mine—not just decoration, but symbols of renewal and hope that Recovery brings. Their white petals speak of triumph over darkness. Hidden underground, the bulb mirrors our unseen seasons of struggle, until its trumpet-shaped bloom proclaims spiritual renewal. Lilies remind us of purity, new life,

In a world of apps that reshape our faces and bodies, we can be tempted to chase perfection. Social media urges us to appear flawless—taller, slimmer, smoother. Yet, true Recovery invites us to bring our unpolished selves. Some Recovery spaces display picture-perfect faces, but real Recovery welcomes acne, wrinkles, rough hands, and raw emotions. We

We need not fear discussion or uncertainty—they are the runway to deeper understanding. Without open conversations about Recovery, we risk losing both growth and the trust that healing is possible. Many peers thrive in Recovery, but Vincent resisted. He told us, “Unless I see ten people no longer needing hospital care, I will not believe

From birth, Recovery lived deep within us. Long before we had words, a wise mind stirred—gently teaching us what was true and healing. This inner Spirit isn’t a voice we hear or an instinct we react to. It’s a sacred intuition—a quiet knowing that guides us like poetry rising from the poet. It doesn’t come