Through the Red Door Blog

“Next we launched out on a course of vigorous action…” page 63, The Big Book

It was Saturday, March 14. I was preparing to lead a day retreat the following Saturday with a local Matt Talbot group around the theme of page 63 from The Big Book. It was perfect timing for my recovering journey! I felt tired from the work I had committed to do as an interim minister and the people I was serving for the past 18 months. Every attempt to move forward with changes needed for them to become the change-makers seemed fraught with excuses and refusals. While attending my home group meeting early most mornings, my regularity had faded to 2 or 3 times a week, maybe. The group, a solid part of my recovering life the past 12 years, was becoming usual, predictable, and frankly I was bored … NOT a healthy place for this alcoholic to be! So, this retreat day would be the perfect foundation for completing another Step 4 and 5. And then …

COVID-19 changed everything! The retreat I was to lead was cancelled. Our diocese suspended all public worship, and I was plunged into the world of “virtual” worship each Sunday. Like all other gatherings, daily AA meetings were put on ice as well. Sure, I could reach out to my sponsor and other friends along the happy road. Sure, I could connect with one or more of the “virtual” AA meetings that quickly appeared. Sure, I could do SOMETHING about this needed step work. Sure I could, but getting traction on this was not happening. And then …

A friend from the rooms, who I also shared time with as spiritual director, began having spikes of fever, a general flu-like weakness, and then THE COUGH. He was referred for testing for the Corona Virus. The first was negative, then the second showed positive, and then the third returned negative. Since the medical world could not figure out what to do, they sent him home and said if it got worse, go to the ER. He called me immediately, feeling the need to work through his Step 4 & 5 in the case that he … The gift of his sense of life urgency cleaning his life and spiritual house gave energy for me to do the same. We covenanted to complete what we could in a week, and then meet on his deck at appropriate space with masks to share these steps with each other. By the time we met, his physical manifestations had settled, the coughing disappeared, and he was on the mend. He went first, I followed. Tears, laughter, comfort, and inspiration to move on to Step 8 and 9, to move forward in a time when nothing else was moving forward. It was truly grace, nothing else but grace. I hold this truth from writer and recovering companion Anne Lamott -- “I do not understand the mystery of grace -- only that it meets us where we are and does not leave us where it found us.” And then …

I received a text from the chair of our home group. He wanted me to know that the group was still meeting with appropriate limits. When a member anniversary was to be celebrated the group conscience agreed that the anniversary person would be specifically invited in these unusual times. So, on Saturday, May 23, I’ll be present at my home group with mask of face, a smaller group of my recovering friends, to give thanks for 23 years of recovering life. I could not do this without the grace of God, and the living, loving presence of my recovering friends in all the places I have traveled. And for this, I am grateful.

Paul G.

Newark, Delaware

In the first days of sheltering in place, I was an early if reluctant adopter of online 12 Step meetings. It took some time to iron out the kinks: finding the precise link, making sure your private chat comment was, in fact, private and, unsurprisingly, learning all over again how to raise your hand. Soon enough, like when I first came into the (in-person) rooms, my comfort level grew, and I looked forward to seeing my home group buddies in their little Brady Bunch boxes on my computer screen.

At some point in preparing to preach last Sunday, I began to hear the well-trod story from John 14 in a new way: in my Father’s house there are many dwelling places. Many, if not most, of us associate this lesson with funerals. Some of the commentators wrote something to the effect of “come on, lectionary, we’re in Easter. Why drag us back to the Last Supper? Bummer.”

Bummer, indeed. As these days of pandemic grind on, watching the news suggests a medieval text that lives still in the burial service of the BCP: In the midst of life we are in death. We are surrounded by death in a manner few have known. The mounting numbers are too much to wrap my brain around. Some days I’m just numb.

Then a colleague pointed out that the Greek noun for dwelling place is related to one of John’s favorite words, the verb for abide. Abide. Dwell. Stay. Remain. Abiding is profoundly relational. For those of us who deal with a disease of isolation, abiding with is essential. How often are we told that “this is a we program?” Our sponsors remind us that we are not alone, to stay in the middle of the pack. Recovery necessitates abiding with, staying connected to, each other, our sponsors, our Higher Power.

The number of deaths is still appalling and tragic, yet how blessed are we to have been offered new dwelling places in which to be faithful to our programs. For this addict, abiding with my precious companions in the Brady Bunch rooms of online meetings, I begin to see the promise of the Resurrection in new ways, that even in the midst of death we are in life.

Abide. Hang out. Hang on.

Paul J.

May 2020

Maybe it’s because of my work as a drug and alcohol therapist or maybe it’s in there, but I couldn’t help but read the gospel in this week’s lectionary and not hear the voice of someone in the pre-contemplative stage of change denying their need for help from their addiction. Allow me to expound on this. How many times have we heard (or said ourselves) to our spouse, to our parent, to ourselves: I’m ok, I’ve got this? I can do recovery on my own terms. Meetings, therapy, detox isn’t for me. I can do this.

Very truly, I tell you, anyone who does not enter the sheepfold by the gate but climbs in by another way is a thief and a bandit. 

So what if trying to get in the sheepfold by climbing in another way is a sure fire way to set ourselves up for another relapse? What if the sponsor or the therapist or the certified recovery specialist is the shepherd? The shepherd is already in the fold (maybe has been in our shoes before) and if we follow the sound of their voice it’s possible they may lead us where we didn’t even know we needed to go. Because left to our own devices… Well, I think we all know how it ends when we are left to our own devices.

The one who enters by the gate is the shepherd of the sheep. The gatekeeper opens the gate for him, and the sheep hear his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out.

Because life on life’s terms, right? And maybe not by using in order to cope for the first time ever. And realizing that we may have been our own worst enemy and going in the back door we miss unpacking all the junk that got us here in the first place. Because the junk has to get unpacked and we have been unable to do it on our own this whole time. Why should this time be any different? So maybe we admit our powerlessness, make the appointment and go to the meeting through the front door.

They will not follow a stranger, but they will run from him because they do not know the voice of strangers.

And then this verse right in the middle of the gospel lesson…Jesus used this figure of speech with them, but they did not understand what he was saying to them.Yep, this definitely sounds like someone in the pre-contemplative stage of change. Or any stage of change. Or anyone at all!

Then a whole lot of hope begins to emerge.<</p>

We stop letting our emotions make our decisions. We get a 30 day chip. We begin to build up enough muscle and have enough tools in our tool belt, when we drive past the place where we used to shoot up or see our dealer’s car in town, we don’t even recognize it. If we’ve done enough work and spent enough time with the shepherd. We turn from the voice of the stranger even though it might be our own. We are led into the sheepfold. We are on our way to a meeting. We are on our way to having life and having it abundantly. 

 So again Jesus said to them, Very truly, I tell you, I am the gate for the sheep.  All who came before me are thieves and bandits; but the sheep did not listen to them.  I am the gate. Whoever enters by me will be saved, and will come in and go out and find pasture. 

Now doesn’t that sound like a good place to be?

Deborah M, LPC
Lancaster, PA

“The moment you surrender to love and allow it to lead you to exactly where your soul wants to go, you will have no difficulty.” Neale Donald Walsch

I often hear the slogans “Fake it until you make it” and “Acting as if” in the rooms of 12 Step fellowships. The idea behind these slogans is to develop a pattern of behavior that mirrors a recovered lifestyle. I think of it as a way to develop spiritual muscle memory by repeating the actions of a person in recovery.

While the intentions of these slogans are admirable, it is always good to see these slogans as mere placeholders on our recovery journey. They are stand ins until we begin the process of surrender. In reality, it is possible to not act out with our drug of choice and still not be sober. That is the difference between surrender and submission for those of us in recovery.

Surrender involves acceptance of the reality that life as we have lived it has only resulted in our own self destruction. We can’t lie any more to ourselves, to others, or to our Higher Power. Surrender always erupts from the fountain of rigorous honesty. It requires the rejection of denial and a commitment to reality at all cost. Surrender requires making peace with our character defects. When we surrender we realize that our addiction, be it to alcohol, drugs, sex, compulsive lying or whatever are just symptoms of a spiritual dis-ease of our egos. Surrender is the foundation upon which true recovery is built.

Submission however, allows us to do the right thing with the wrong motives. Submission is best illustrated by the imagery of a Prisoner of War. Someone in compliance with the orders of their captors who follows the rules of the overlord while inwardly plotting his escape from captivity. Some of us in recovery see the program as a burden, we are sober but by God we are not happy about it! I always laugh when someone who is in submission to the program reads the sentence“…if you want what we have…” Thank you but I will pass.

Artist and creative Sissy Gavrilaki reminds us, “Sometimes, it ’s not the times you decide to fight, but the times you decide to surrender, that makes all the difference.” How true this is in recovery. When we not only decide to give up fighting but also make peace with our enemy (ourselves) we absolutely experience freedom from our addiction, find release from the shame which motivates us, and undermines our negative core beliefs. The result is true peace and serenity and the gratefulness both for my recovery and my addiction. 

That is something I will go to any length to experience.

Digging Deeper

1.      How would you describe the difference between surrender and submission?

2.      In what ways have you ever been resentful of your sobriety or recovery?

3.      Why do some people in recovery talk about being grateful for their addiction? How are you grateful for your own addiction? What gift has it given you?

4.      What role does denial play in understanding the difference between surrender and submission?

5.      Matthew 5:3 (The Message) tells us,  “You ’re blessed when you ’re at the end of your rope. With less of you there is more of God and his rule.” How can being at the end of your rope (hitting bottom) result in the type of surrender being discussed here?

6.      Describe a time when you reached the end of your rope and we able to surrender. How did that feel? What was different? How has that impacted your relationship with your drug of choice?

 -Shane M

“Now with the pandemic, everyone is having to live like an alcoholic in recovery: one day at a time,” said a wise woman at a meeting last week.

So what does it mean, to live one day at a time? It means not getting too hepped up about what might happen or what should happen or even what has happened. It means stopping and breathing, looking around, and saying, “Oh, okay, my Higher Power and I can handle this.”

I want to be perfectly clear that I do not always remember that.

I found myself two weeks ago not getting anything completed, not remembering what I had started, not remembering what came next. I was busy-busy-busy all the time, but I was frenzied. I had stacks of things to read, reports to write, laundry to fold, letters to answer. No stack ever reduced in size. And other stacks were born. And multiplied.

I couldn’t figure out what was wrong. I was sober. I was grateful. I read my morning pages. I wrote in my journal. I attended one or two Zoom meetings a day. I chatted with my partner and FaceTimed with my children and grandchildren. I said my prayers and offered to help.

But I was running around in circles and I knew it. I was chasing my tail.

And then a friend said, “That’s anxiety, Chris. You’re anxious.”

I gasped. I caught my breath and I stopped. It all made sense. I was anxious.

I thought I was just disorganized.

I had been refusing to admit that this pandemic, this COVID, this social distancing, this uncertainty—on top of dealing with my beloved’s serious illness—had really really been stressing me out.

I had thought that I was protected by my (many) years of sobriety in Alcoholics Anonymous--my working the steps with sponsees, my calling my own sponsor, my Twelve Step life, the Promises--and my Episcopalianism--attending virtual services at the National Cathedral and in my own parish and diocese, my prayers and supplications and creeds and spiritual communions.

But I am human. And I can be sober and stressed. I can be a faithful communicant and anxious. I can have faith and fear at the same time.

So what does that mean? Our rector said in a sermon recently that the opposite of faith is not doubt—the opposite is certainty. Faith means believing in something you can’t quite define, you can’t quite label, you can’t quite grasp. Faith is a deep knowing, an ineffable relationship. And like all knowing, it comes with unknowing. With all relationships, there are times of miscommunication and misunderstanding. Nothing—no amount of faith, churchiness, sobriety or 12-stepping—can stop me from being human. From forgetting that I am connected and held and cherished.

I would be out of touch with reality if I didn’t admit that uncertainty and global change is scary. I was out of touch with reality when I was convinced that my frenetic busy-ness was just an attempt to get myself organized and not a desperate shield to keep my worries buried.

Fear: Face Everything and Recover.

By labeling what I was feeling—anxiety—I could then look it in the eye and say, “Oh, you! I know you. We have been together before. You better come out in the open and get some light on you so I can see you clearly. Here, let’s invite our friend Faith in and the three of us can chat.”

Christine H.

Shane M in his posting of March 27 on Episcopal Church Red Door, said a great deal. I have it in my file and will periodically dig it out for another reading. 

What is one to say about all this COVID stuff? “Who would ‘a thought?” It does seem strange not to be able to personally drop in on a meeting, but the internet sure provides plenty of opportunities to “stay tuned to the Program”.

With all the admonitions and orders and rulings to stay indoors and “don’t travel” my wife pointed something out to me I haven’t considered. “Say, we may not see our kids until the New Year.” Our kids live in New York City, Chicago and Denver - nice lovely places to visit, that’s for sure. But with things as they are, it will certainly be Fall, if then, before we are able to visit. The computer brings new opportunities to stay “in touch” that is for sure. But it isn’t the same.

That’s why Shane’s comment about gratitude is so relevant amid this pandemic: “[Gratitude is] the last resort in our tool-box [and] is probably the most powerful.”

The Program as a whole sustains me in these times. It is a way of thought, of looking at and solving problems. It tells us to periodically look ourselves anew and take the measure of our lives and day-to-day habits. 

Shane’s discussion of stress, concern, and worry is something we in the Program are well familiar with. We can “make a mountain out of a mole hill,” only this time, perhaps this COVID really is that mountain. One trait I formerly carried was the ego-centered feeling I was the center of solving all problems. By serious entry into the Program, I was reminded I couldn’t even solve my own addiction problem. I’d tried over the years and failed. It was only when I surrendered to that Higher Power, the one “greater than ourselves” and worked the Steps, that I found sobriety and serenity. I really couldn’t “do it all” and finally found serenity in leaving it all to my God.

Solving this COVID problem is in the hands of those who know how to look for a way to curtail its effect on our lives. This time we have been thrown into the middle of it by the forced personal isolations, closures of businesses, and an inaccessibility of people, places, and things we relied on in our daily lives to sustain our well-being. We need to remember to let them - the first-responders and the medical personnel and research persons - do their jobs. We can be a part of their efforts by our support of those efforts, financially and otherwise.  

We need to remember those whose businesses have collapsed, the clerks in stores and waitresses and servers in restaurants, the college kids and others that cannot even look for jobs (if the jobs are there), or anyone whose income is either gone or greatly reduced because of the widespread shut-downs of our former open lives.

We have to reflect an empathy to those worse off who may not have the resources to cope. We in the Program do have those resources. In the Program itself, and our relationships with all the rest of us who every day work the Steps, we lend a hand to a newcomer, make the coffee and cleanup the meeting room - for by doing so, we are not part of the problem but are trying to do our bit.

Oh, we are so lucky to have the Program to provide a way to accept the things we cannot change but maintain the courage to change that which we can, and the comfort and serenity to know the difference.

Jim A, Covington, KY

Freddie* stopped me as I unloaded my groceries. Do you have a second, he asked, just outside my backyard gate. I’m sincerely sorry from the bottom of my heart. I want to apologize to you and your husband. I said some mean things to him last night. Freddie was wearing a black t-shirt and baggie jeans. He was wearing a silver cross necklace and he smelled like wintergreen mouthwash. He had several multi-colored earring studs in both ears and his bald scalp and neck were covered in tattoos. You are my friends and I love you guys.

The night before, just before dinner, we heard Freddie. The sounds were coming from his efficiency apartment just beyond our backyard. He was yelling and breaking things. We heard a woman, his girlfriend, Sylvia*, crying. At first we watched and then when we saw the window breaking, my husband fled out the back door and over to Freddie’s apartment. As soon as Freddie saw him he yelled at him, Get the f**k outta here!  My husband retreated and returned home not wanting to aggravate the situation. Other neighbors tried to intervene and calm him down by yelling at him, shaming him, trying to reason with him, swearing at him. He was highly intoxicated. Sylvia gathered up a few belongings and left. The police were called. He was compliant and respectful and they left after telling him to cool off for several hours. We heard very little the rest of the night except for his door slamming every time he threw another plate or beer bottle or more of Sylvia’s things out of his apartment and into the alley. 

Inside the safety of our home, less than 100 feet away, our hearts broke for Freddie. Just a few months prior he had gifted me with a broken lava lamp from his apartment when he learned it was my birthday. He had helped my husband mulch our small urban backyard. On occasion, he had cooked us arroz con gandules. Now we could hear him sobbing. All night he wept. 

Standing by my car, I put down my groceries and let him finish. Then I slowly and quietly said, We knew you were hurting last night. We knew that was not the Freddie we know and love. He paused letting the words sink in. There was no shaming. There was no corrective action. There was only love. His eyes filled up with tears and the dark, faded neck tattoo on the skin over his Adam’s apple rippled as he swallowed hard. He wiped the tears from his eyes and in a barely audible whisper said, Thank you. I wasn’t right in the head last night and that will not happen again. He leaned in for a full hug and I threw my arms around him. 

He walked back to his apartment. And I finished unloading my groceries. I carried the ingredients to make haroset into the house. In a few hours I would take it to the Bible Foods dinner we have every year at church during Holy Week. Haroset represents the mortar the Jewish slaves used while in captivity in Egypt. It is served during Passover which was two days away. And I thought about Freddie’s slavery to alcohol and the violence and pain it causes him and others. 

And I thought about foot washing and how Jesus spent his last days on earth with his betrayer. What would Jesus say the morning after to the neighborhood drunk who broke windows and screamed at his girlfriend if he accosted Him as he unloaded His groceries? I considered Freddie’s repentance and earnest apology. His tears running down his tattooed neck. 

It was Maundy Thursday.

And I chose to hope Freddie would be my neighbor a little longer. I hoped he would play his reggaeton until late into the night this summer. I hoped he would help my husband mulch again and chat by the back gate. And maybe, just maybe, he could be with me someday in paradise. Forgiven. And free from the slavery of his addiction. 

*names have been changed 

Deborah M., LPC

Lancaster, PA

There are two basic motivating forces: fear and love. When we are afraid, we pull back from life. When we are in love, we open to all that life has to offer with passion, excitement, and acceptance. -John Lennon

How is your anxiety level?

As I write this the nation is at the early stages of addressing the COVID-19/Coronavirus pandemic. Restaurants are either closed or have gone to offering drive thru or curb side services and have closed their dining rooms. Schools and institutes of higher education have stopped having classes on campus and transitioned to virtual education models. The news reports are warning of the stress that could be placed on our health care system should the virus impact us as it has Europe and Asia. Don’t even think about buying a roll of toilet paper or a bottle of Purell!

As people in recovery, we have to take this situation seriously. In addition to the concerns about our health we have the reality that times of fear and stress are huge triggers that could impact our recovery. Where the danger occurs at this time is that we may be triggered both externally and internally.

Internal triggers are emotions, false core beliefs, thoughts or self-talk. External triggers are people, events, relationships, information and environments. Both internal and external triggers move us closer to lapse or relapse, both of which are currently bombarding us. Something diabolical happens when our external triggers spark internal fear and anxiety. While the opportunity is there to act out in our addiction, the opportunity also exist to deepen our recovery. But it may require some effort. Here are a few thoughts…

Extremes are not our Friends. People tend to be focused on extremes and either have over or under reacted. Ask your self if this describes you. One of the slogans I embrace in my recovery is “I am cautiously optimistic.” Remember that extreme or all or none thinking is a sign we are slipping into addiction.

Focus on Facts not Fiction. Nothing helps us in recovery as much as truth telling. Talk to a doctor or health care professional about both how you feel and what is true about this pandemic. You cannot make a solid decision without educating yourself on the truth.

Feel Your Feelings. Consider journalling your feelings during this time. Simply begin with the sentence, “Today I feel…” and finish it with everything that comes to mind. It is easier to deal with the emotional triggers once we actually write them down and recognize them. Download a Feelings Inventory if you have trouble getting a grip on what you actually feel. After seven years of recovery I still have to look at a handout of cartoon faces to figure out that ache in my gut is actually anger or loneliness.

Remember your Program Tools. When we are activated we have a slew resources which can defuse our addictive energy. 12 Steppers can do a 4th and 5th Step. Those in Buddhist Recovery programs may choose to meditate. Religious based recoverees may pray or attend a virtual religious service. Each program of recovery provides tools and connections to manage our compulsive behaviors, now is a great time to use them!

Stay Connected. Regardless of length in a recovery program, the simple tool of picking up the phone is one most of us can use to arrest feelings of anxiety. Others may be able to log into a virtual meeting recovery meeting offered by our programs. One surprise that has come from this event is the increase in online meetings! A friend told me, “It was reported that the hits to our website of people looking for online meetings has jumped from 800-1100/day to almost 12,000/day in the past week and is climbing.” Isolation does not have to mean we limit our interaction with others, it just means we have to be intentional and choose to exercise some muscles we never use.

The last resource in our tool box is probably the most powerful. A recovering person who get this and lets it motivate his or her recovery will remain sober. It is the atom bomb that disarms anxiety and fear. It is a sure deterrent to the hopelessness we feel when the world is closing in. What is this weapon?

Gratitude.

As someone once told me, “Grateful addicts don’t use.” How true! Gratitude is the ultimate act of right sizing our lives, our thinking, and our perceptions. Everything around us may be going to hell in a hand basket, yet simply finding one thing to be grateful for can reorient our perspective. When we choose to be grateful we are choosing courage over fear and acting out of humility instead of ego. While I do not believe that everything happens in our life for a reason, gratitude allows us to bring purpose to even the most difficult circumstance.

Even if that circumstance is a global pandemic.

Gratefully in your service,

Shane M

Digging Deeper

1.      Find a quiet place and take a few minutes to center yourself spiritually in a way that works for you. Now use a journal to finish the sentence, “Right now I feel…”

2.      Highlight any emotion that may be triggering. Follow up by journalling about what is behind that emotion. Be specific. (example. Right now I feel fearful because I do not know what I will do if I lose my job over this virus outbreak.)

3.      Try to identify any destructive or erroneous thoughts and record them in your journal. (example: Catastrophic Thinking - I am imagining that I know the out come of this and I do not. I am future projecting.)

4.      Get honest by journalling what is driving that emotion and belief. (example: I wish I could control this and I can. I am struggling with letting go over something I have no control over whatsoever.)

5.      Create an affirmation to replace that false belief with a better one. (example: I am choosing to not panic or give into fear. Instead I choose gratitude and surrender. I am not in control.)

6.      Take time to journal a gratitude list. Go into detail about what, who and why you are thankful. (example: I am grateful for my daughter and son because they love me and support me in my effort to recover.)

7.      Close your journaling time with a prayer or meditation expressing gratefulness for three things which enrich your life at this time.

I met a man named Scott* early in my 12-step program. He swore, a wicked-looking knife scar bisected his cheek, his arms were tattooed with some scary-looking ink, and he slouched, his dirty work boots stretched way too close to my personal space. Scott was a double winner, working programs on both sides of the hall. One program kept him alive, he claimed, while the second made him want to be alive. Scott went to more meetings than anybody I'd known before, and he joked about a special dislike for one particular topic: gratitude.

The topic seemed to follow him. “I've been to two meetings on gratitude already this week,” he'd grumble. I know why he grumbled. Being grateful takes hard work and a willingness to see things differently. From him, and from others in my program, I've learned just how powerful gratitude can be.

Making the effort to practice gratitude boosts my ability to identify and choose joy. I have to work at it, because my disease sometimes colors my perceptions and makes it difficult to see what's positive. It's almost magical: the circumstances causing me difficulty point the way to happiness. I may fuss and worry when my car breaks down, but the fact that I own a car is something for which I am very grateful. I love the freedom of riding down the road with the wind in my hair. As I learn to recognize joy, and welcome it into my life, everything improves.

Gratitude also teaches me acceptance, and acceptance is the foundation of my serenity. Before I worked a program, I spent a lot of energy on denial. I believed if people would just do things my way, I'd be happy and successful. Accepting my inability to control people, places and things means I don't spin my wheels trying to force solutions. When I am grateful for what's in front of me, I'm accepting what's real and finding beauty and meaning in every corner of my life.

When I am restless, irritated and discontent, gratitude is hard. I don't want the solution to my bad mood to be something easy and self-initiated. I get so wrapped up in my self-will, so attached to an external solution for what's bugging me. For some dark reason I don't fully understand, I sometimes reject the wisdom of this program and choose to be unhappy instead. But Scott knew: a scrawled list of gratitude, sometimes as simple as listing clean air to breathe and a roof over my head, turns that unhappiness upside-down. It never fails; I only have to make the choice. Gratitude is self-care, even when I do it without enthusiasm.

The practice of gratitude is also a tool to improve my conscious contact with my HP. When I count my blessings, I see God at work in my life. I'm in relationship with my HP, secure in my place, aware of the care and comfort so freely offered. I'm so grateful for my friend Scott, and for the rooms where I learn how to live a better life.

*not his real name

The season of Lent calls for an emphasis on strengthening and a renewal of the spirit-filled life and the call to seek the Will of God in all we do.   

I was talking recently with a person who found the Program about the time I did and daily attended the same meeting, “St. X Noon.” We both remembered the faces which meant so much to both of us – Rob, Mike, Dick, David, and so forth – without their words, and depth of their feelings, we both acknowledged we may not have “made it.”

Some time ago, a friend jokingly poked me, “Do you still go to ‘those meetings?’ to which I, who suffered the pain of a couple long-ago relapses, said, “If I don’t renew my AA Experiences each day, I weaken my Program and may find myself asking, ‘Gee, it’s been a long time, one won’t hurt. I don’t want to forget how close we all are to slipping back onto that merry-go-round called “addiction.’

This is a harsh reality we all face. We must continue to search for an experience with the Program each day – go to a meeting or two, a re-reading of a chapter in the Big Book, calling your sponsor and reaching out to someone looking for a sponsor, an active regular time for meditation, a time of quiet contemplation, or writing a hopefully enlightening meditation for a Program newsletter.

This is the Christian time of Lent.  We strive to find a bit more quietness – a time for meditation. Perhaps we attend services or special study gatherings at our church or parish.

So, here’s to a happy Sobriety Date, remembering that each day we must quietly recognize our path to recovery and renew our commitment to the Program’s path.

Jim A/Covington, Kentucky