In the movie “Collateral Beauty,” there’s a scene where a woman is sitting in a hospital waiting room, crying. A stranger next to her says, “Are you losing somebody?” The woman says that she’s losing her daughter, and the stranger replies, “Just make sure you notice the collateral beauty.”
I’ve thought quite a bit about that concept since I saw the movie, and I’ve wondered about what it means. I think the word “collateral” has a negative connotation. We associate it with fallout—with repayment of a loan, for instance, or the stories we hear on the news where innocent people die for some perceived greater good. But collateral has another meaning—“additional.” And this is what I think of when I think about the concept of collateral beauty. It’s additional beauty—the blessings that come to us secondhand, usually after something terribly painful. As a recovering alcoholic and drug addict, I see collateral beauty everywhere.
I would never have chosen to spend ten years in the pit of depression, anxiety, and substance abuse. But in my recovery, there has been so much collateral beauty. Monty and I decided we wanted a new beginning as I embraced sobriety, so we moved to our little town on the prairie—a town that has given us friends, new opportunities, and a life centered around the family I was so certain I’d lost. My parents live right up the street, and my brother and his family live around the corner. Both Monty and I work for our family business. Collateral beauty.
My recovery group has become a family to me, too. I was terrified the first time I walked down the stairs into the basement meeting room all by myself. I had no idea what to expect, but I desperately needed a lifeline. And the people I met there threw me that lifeline. They listened to me talk; they let me be silent; they handed me tissues when I cried. They clapped for me when I celebrated each sobriety milestone. We end each meeting by standing in a circle, holding hands and saying the Lord’s Prayer. When I say those precious words and hear all the different voices in the room speaking them with me, I think about us—these desperate, disparate souls who have very little in common except for a desire to take steps forward in our lives and leave our broken pasts behind. I feel the pulse in the hands I’m holding—the pulse of new hope and new beginnings. I feel collateral beauty.
The miracle of collateral beauty is that God has taken every single one of the devastating losses I thought I couldn’t survive, and He has transformed them into gains far beyond what I could have dreamed of:
♥ I lost ten years of my past but gained a beautiful present and a hope-filled future.
♥ I lost ten years of my life trying to numb my feelings and my pain. In recovery, I gained a new understanding of my feelings and learned about ways to cope with pain.
♥ I lost ten years, imprisoned by addiction and waiting for someone to save me. I gained a freedom I’d never known when I finally surrendered to God and let Him save me.
♥ I lost ten years to what I believed was unforgivable sin. In recovery, I found God’s grace and tasted the absolute joy of redemption.
♥ I lost ten years to addiction and depression so dark that I wanted to die. In sobriety, I found an outlook on life that floods me with light and gives me countless reasons to fight for my life—I found out how to see life through the lens of gratitude.
♥ I lost ten years with my family but found in their forgiveness another picture of grace. And I gained a whole new love for every single one of them.
♥ I lost Monty’s trust in me, but I’ve gained it back. And in the process, I’ve found a new, sober appreciation for a faithful man like him who loves me at my worst but always expects my best.
♥ We lost our beloved cat Ricky after almost 18 years together. But his love for us and ours for him taught us that rescuing is a two-way street. We gained our three boys, one at a time, because of Ricky.
♥ I lost myself in addiction. I found God in recovery.
The chorus of “The Dance,” by Garth Brooks, speaks to me of these same kinds of losses and gains:
“And now, I’m glad I didn’t know
The way it all would end
The way it all would go
Our lives are better left to chance
I could have missed the pain
But I’d have had to miss
The dance.”
The pain of those years nearly killed me. But, oh, the dance! If not for the pain, the dance wouldn’t be nearly this beautiful or meaningful. Every time I walk with Monty through the front door of our house, I remember when the house used to be little more than our own personal fallout shelter as we struggled to survive the jolt of the move while dealing with the changes of my newfound sobriety. I vividly remember that pain. But then I see the home we worked so hard to create together, and I see our boys waiting for us. We’re still standing. Better yet, we’re dancing. With all my heart, again and again, I thank God for the dance—for every single bit of collateral beauty.
The Lord your God will restore your fortunes
and have compassion on you and gather you again from all the nations where He scattered you.Deuteronomy 30:3
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Comments 14
So glad you made it back! Another part of the “collateral beauty” is the blessing and encouragement your words bring to the hurting world.
Oh, I love hearing from you! Thank you so very much–I’ll treasure your words. They are my life’s prayer.
Collateral damage, introducing the military definition. “An unintended target”.Not quite sure this is what you wanteD me to walk away with. But, a deep, heavy, blog. Very welll thought out, obviously you Sparrow, have been “to Hell and Back” in your experiences with e deep dark world of drug usage, alcohol. Your own suppor5 system, Monty, your parents and your family, with the hands stretched out to cl8nsel, console you. Also your Recovery Group,They can truly understand the “living Hell” you went through, in your ultimate goal of achieving your own equilibrium in your life. Human nature, being what it is, people will listen to struggles of another human Being. Your faith, your family’s faith in God, a “strong black; of hope” for yourself. Life is a struggle, obviously, I know when our Christopher returned from his 2 1/2 years of his “tours in Iraq, struggled, continues to struggle with the “collateral damage” he experienced. That is why it is so “damned” important for us, a# @ nation, to help, re@ch out, to those on need. When you descended into your Hell, Sparrow, I sense it was so easy to “block out
All the “crap” in your own life, alcohol, drugs. Thank God for your tecover6 Group, husband, Family etc. You tackled your demons. But today you a
Still have your “collateral damage”, your “bright side” I feelyou are trying to turn in to “beautuful Thoughts”. Your Blogs obviously so perfec5ly thought out, a wonderful “canvass” to “paint your life out”, a wonderful” release for you.
I have read stories, seen movies on the dark, hellish side of life. I have be3n involveD in some “self destructive” periods of my life. I have learned, mostly throug( my Mom, God is there, we need to reach out, and there are people in each of our lives that truly care for us. Again, a “gutsy” blog for you, keep on you4 path, with your recovery support Group. Stressed s great tune, “People”, “we are the luckiest people in the world. I think I will have “Alexa” play it now. Sparrow, “keep on blogging”, your blogs are truly a “work of art, self examination,, rejection, confession.See Ya, TexGen FF
P.s. But, Sparrow, collateral damage, can and does turn into Collateral Beauty.
TexGen–that sentence of yours is just perfect.
TexGen–thank you for such encouraging and kind words. You know me well. I have such empathy for those like Christopher who’ve been through so much and often get so little in return. We absolutely need to take much better care of our veterans. We owe them that. I appreciate you, my friend. I really, really do. ❤
Your words, so beautifully shared, and so often ones that reach deep into your readers’ hearts and souls (including my own) are themselves, collateral beauty.
Your life, your journey, your pain, your healing, your stumbles, your victories… are all woven together into an intricate and beautiful tapestry that God is using to touch others at just the right moment they (we/I) need it.
Your writing often stirs up memories of people or places or things not thought of for years, yet bring a wellspring of joy at their resurgence. More collateral beauty.
Thank you, friend, for being you. For being real in a world filled with people wearing masks. ❤️
Lisa–I don’t quite know what to say. Except thank you. You so beautifully articulated my life’s mission and every day prayers. Thank you. Thank you for truly seeing me. Thank you for your words. And thank you for answering a prayer you didn’t even know I was praying. ❤
Oh, dear friend, each of us has broken parts of ourselves and struggles we face on a daily basis, but so many refuse to admit or share about our demons, our feelings of failure and not measuring up, or the health battles (both physically and emotionally) we fight.
There is encouragement, power, healing, accountability, and so much more, in sharing one’s journey. The very thing we believe to be our greatest struggle may indeed be the exact thing someone else needs to see/hear. God did not create us to be islands unto ourselves. He created us for Relationship. So much of His Word points to this. And sometimes “relationship” isn’t all roses and sunshine. It’s surviving the trenches together and emerging stronger than before.
Keep doing what you do. Your mission is touching lives and impacting hearts for His Kingdom ❤️
Thank you. Just–thank you. So very much. ❤
Like the song says (Garth really summed up life in one great song) it’s like you need to feel the pain before the gain, look how you been able bring yourself out a dictation. Feel the pain enjoy the gain, and you are so much stronger for the experience. Now you are stronger and helping others. Like the song says; you would have “missed the dance”, but you are stronghold because of the your experience at the “Dance”.
Love,
Grover
Grover–how right you are about Garth’s song! You used the word “stronger;” that’s my goal every day. Thank you for your beautiful words. ❤
Renee, I love your take on collateral beauty, “It’s additional beauty—the blessings that come to us secondhand, usually after something terribly painful.” That is so true and when we look at our lives and the painful things we go though, there is always additional beauty from those painful times. Thank you for sharing your collateral beauty with us! You are blessed and God has brought you through so much and I am incredibly proud of you for keeping on and trusting God to bring you through those painful times. You have a beautiful life and through life’s trials, you have grown and are stronger because of those trials. God spared you and here is one of the reasons He is not finished with you yet. You are glorifying God with this blog. You are telling your story and helping those who struggle with addiction and suicide. Thank you for this blog and I thank God for allowing our paths to cross and for getting to reconnect with you after all these years! Thank you for reminding me to look for collateral beauty in the painful times in my life. I see many blessings in my life. God works things for your good. Thank you for sharing your heart! I love you. ❤️
Melanie–thank you for such kind words. They mean so much. You reminded me of my favorite Latin phrase–Soli Deo Gloria–“Glory to God Alone.” Thank you.