Jacob, my youngest...
This was the first time that I have done that, where he refused to apologize.
I went up to his room half an hour after sending him, attempting to offer him Grace and a chance to make right the situations he had created. I was greeted by a room in shambles and stony defiance.
So I told him goodnight and that I loved him, just like every other night, then asked if he was too mad for a hug.
He was...
I was sad because I wanted to forgive him. He did not desire it. He still was so sure that he was right..
Of course. He is his fathers son, after all.
It was an interesting day yesterday.
March 13th is the date of my last drunk, 27 years ago. My sobriety started on the 14th...
I don't usually tell people, but every year on the 13th, I get squirrelly.
I like to say squirrelly because it sounds a lot better than how I really get...
Sobriety is a hard thing to attempt to explain.
When asked about it, I usually share how Gods Grace changed me, and gave me a choice to not destroy myself, and grow towards Him...
That is what happened to me, but not what sobriety is...
I speak of my Wonderful Wife and amazing McMonkeys ; about an incredible life provided by The One much greater than me...
But that's just part of sobrieties gifts.
It's not sobriety...
I walked into A.A. and one of the first things I heard from an old timer almost as old as God Himself was " Boy, you ain't going to make it if you don't learn how to step over the bodies".
Then he laughed loud and hard, and I thought he was the biggest, most insensitive horses ass I would ever meet.
Getting sober is walking into rooms full of people just like yourself, some of whom will not stop drinking, for long. To grow enough to maintain sobriety, you are basicaly required to open up your heart and let them in. Close enough to help you, but close enough to hurt you, also. No one is guaranteed anything past the present day, no free passes offered...
Every year brings new ones into the rooms and sends others out...
You wish you could be like Caufield in " The Catcher in the Rye", praying you could stop them; wishing you could save every single one.
But you can't...
You become close, and those who don't drink become closer and more intimate. Unfortunately, the disease is not a respecter of time in recovery...
Men and women you would have sworn could never relapse, do, and then they try for years, some, the rest of their lives, to gain any consecutive days without drinking, again.
And many never get it back...
But they still are in your heart and their stories are ingrained in your soul. Years later, you clearly remember their wives names, kids names, first sobriety date...
...the dates and seasons that triggered their sadnesses still haunt you, and at times you question how a such a Loving God could allow those much more dedicated, stronger and more loyal, to fall, while for some unknown reason, you still cluelessly, march on...
Those you have grown to love and have yourself, carried; that have carried you so many times,when you were not capable of walking this road alone, eventually get older and succumb to all the diseases of age.
They die sober...
And you don't drink over it.
And one night, when the ghosts of the rooms of A.A. have quietly retreated from your brain and heart, angrily and sadly you finally admit that that old horses ass was always right....
I can tell you exactly what it's like to be 27 years sober.
Do you remember the final scene in the movie "Saving Private Ryan"?
50 years after World War two, at Arlington National Cemetery, Private Ryan, now an old man, is kneeling in front of Captain Millers grave. He speaks to the headstone.
" I've tried to my live the best I could. I hope that was good enough. I hope that at least in your eyes, I've earned what all of you have done for me."
His wife stands over his shoulder as tears run down his face. He speaks to her, saying " Tell me I've led a good life" " What?" she gently replies...
" Tell me I'm a good man"
Every 13th of March, I am followed by a cloud of emotion. If I stop for more than a few minutes I tear up and begin to fall apart. A strange and twisted mix of sadness and gratitude; confusion and Grace...
I feel what Ryan felt... unworthy, confused, afraid..
Knowing that God chose to keep me sober and that I did nothing to deserve it. Knowing that so many of the people I'd held close and that did much more to earn it than I , weren't ...
I have no idea why. It was not in my original plan...
On the 13 of March, 1988 I had no other idea in my pickled little brain than to continue my drunken path to its inevitable end. Hope was a four letter word that I did not comprehend.
But God had other plans...
I am overwhelmingly Greatfull to still be sober and have this life I've been graced with...
No comments:
Post a Comment