You may think this is an oxymoron. "Envy" isn't what usually comes to mind when we discover someone we know is an alcoholic. And yet only days into sobriety, that is exactly what I am. For me, there is no other explanation for this thankfulness than the awesome power and peace of God.
My first experience with alcohol came at the age of 6 years old. We lived with my Papa at the time and his nightly routine consisted of TV, a large metal mixing bowl of popcorn and a styrofoam cup full of scotch. I adored him and would spend many evenings curled up in his lap, cushioned by his big pot belly. He had a special spot in his heart for me, always encouraging me in the areas of education and business. The smell of Glenlivet on his breath was just part of who he was. Out of a desire to be just like him, I had begged him incessantly to try his scotch. He finally relented, I'm sure thinking I would be totally disgusted and never ask again....He was right. It was absolutely awful! That was the first and the last day of my life I ever drank scotch. It wasn't until much later in life that I fully understood the extent of his drinking and by then, it was a neutral issue for me as he could do no wrong in my eyes. He passed away in 2001 at the age of 64 as a result of obesity and alcoholism-related issues.
My mom also had several boyfriends with the disease and we lived through multiple relapses with them all. I do remember that their longest periods of sobriety coincided with their attendance of Alcoholics Anonymous. I recall finding it extremely arduous that they had to attend meetings every day; still, it worked and I am fortunate to have had this positive impression of the organization.
As a nursing assistant, I worked on the orthopedic floor at Mercy Hospital. Attached to our unit was the hospital's inpatient detox wing. I was responsible for refilling their water pitchers,as well as bringing them meals and clean linens. When the nurses had lost all patience with their moaning, I served as the middle (wo)man who responded to their frequent call bells. I was like a little sheep sent into the lion's den to tell them that, despite their obvious pain, they were not allowed to have any more medication. Let's just say, I liked my patients a lot better on day 3 than days 1 and 2.
As a nurse in the ER, I came to know the local drunks very well. By this time, I had excepted Christ into my life and truly felt the brokenness and despair in these peoples' lives. I really had a hard time accepting that the God of my understanding could allow such a heartbreaking, isolating disease.
As my faith has matured, however, I have come to understand how and why God allows trials in our lives. I can honestly look at the aspects of my life which most others would consider tragic-a painfully broken childhood, sexual abuse, years of depression, the very premature birth of my second son and now alcoholism-and say that I would not change a single one of them. I am so appreciative of the strength of character which I feel so many "contented" people lack. I have take opportunities to openly share my life stories with others and I know that my insights have brought them hope and understanding. I strive to be a better wife and parent as a result of the trials I have suffered. I have full confidence that, if through me, my family and the world can experience the love and light I have found in Christ, I will have served my purpose well.
As I now sit in the rooms of AA, I am overwhelmed by the brokenness of its members. In almost every story, there is evidence to complete misunderstanding of the God I know. I have become acutely aware that, as a believer, I am in the minority. I feel I now understand why my life did not take the destructive path of most alcoholics-why I did not have to hit "rock bottom" in the physical world. I have come to realize, in the absence of faith, all people have is this life. Their lives are the biggest thing they have to lose. Coming to terms with my alcoholism was an all-out spiritual battle fought within the confines of my heart. I have come to understand that I did experience my "rock bottom"-my eternal life was in dire straights. For the first time in my Christian walk, I was called to obey God when every part of me was fighting to the death to keep my grip on the bottle. To my absolute amazement, however, I began to receive blessing after blessing from the moment I acted in obedience and confessed!
I have always had a heart for missions and a desire for God to use me in that fashion; with 2 small boys, however, now is not the time. Just in the last year, I have admired the selflessness of my friends as they served in Kenya, Burundi, Haiti, The Dominican Republic and The Congo.
Little did I know that, as I drove down the oak-lined streets of Charlotte, I was passing the churches and meeting places of my mission field every day. And for that, I will be eternally GRATEFUL.
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