Through the Red Door Blog

Today the Church marks the Conversion of St Paul.  Today also marks my 25^th anniversary of sobriety.  I certainly didn’t plan to be converted on January 25, or any other day, for that matter.  But there are some interesting similarities when one sets aside the old way of life and picks up the mantle of a new one.

I doubt I ever would have awakened one day to decide I’d call anyone or anything to ask for help.  Yet people who knew me began to hear of my deteriorating life, and they were wise enough to know that an intervention was mandatory if my life was to be spared.

I don’t know how much Saul might have been looking for a conversion on the Road to Damascus.  For us today, perhaps it doesn’t matter that much.  Something was working inside him, and he was open to a sudden or radical conversion.

For someone who drank every day for 20 years, the idea of staying sober for a day was about as radical as can be.  To me, the idea of becoming a non-drinker was more than a conversion, it was an impossibility.

But our God is a God of surprises and there is no question He was working on a big surprise that day.  My first night in treatment, a kind, older, wizened woman told me I didn’t have to drink tonight.  And it was obvious I wouldn’t find a drink anywhere in a treatment center.  She also told me I didn’t have to give up drinking forever, just for today was enough.

I find sometimes the smallest thing can start the conversion.  It might be a burning bush, but more likely God messes around with things much more subtly.  Living with the questions and recalling that we do not hope for that which we can see.  Once we see it, there’s no need to continue to hope.

My Church was newly meaningful to me in the midst of this conversion and it was a safe haven, a refuge from my storm, and a place of hope.  I am glad I had spent 40 years attending church every week and serving in a multitude of other ways. 

Church was significant in my recovery as it welcomed me back in so many new ways.  In 25 years, I see how this is the experience that many have after they begin recovery. Not all, but some.  This alcoholic is grateful for all that God has done for me, and for all He has spared me.

What Paul received, he passed on.  Conversion and hope is what I can pass on to others in recovery.  I hope you can do so, too.

Gary G

January is a month of new beginnings! It's that time of the year where we make resolutions and try something new. The name January actually comes from Janus, the Roman god of transition or beginnings. Janus is represented by two faces looking in opposite directions; the past and the future. Janus was also thought of as a gate, a doorway, or of passing time. In the spirit of Janus I begin the new year with working Step One of AA which has been about a new beginning for me!

Step One can be the beginning of a new way of life. This step is an honest statement about what our lives have become. "We admitted we were powerless over alcohol-that our lives had become unmanageable". When I came to AA I was told that this was the only step I had to get right and that the rest of the steps were suggestions for a new way of living. During those first few months my mind was in such a mess. I knew that my life was unmanageable. In my confused state, many told me to focus on the word "WE". "We" is the first word in Step One and I believe it is for a reason. It means we are not alone. I had felt alone for so long that I hung on to the word "WE" for dear life, leaning on others and listening to their stories. I learned to identify with people and to quit comparing. When I saw myself in others I began to see that we were connected, that we needed each other. We were never meant to see ourselves as alone. Was this really what Step One stood for or was there more?

As part of working Step One, it was suggested that I look up the words powerless and unmanageable to make sure I knew what these words meant. It gradually dawned on me that these words were about giving up. I knew from listening to talk in the rooms that I was supposed to surrender, but who wants to admit defeat? What was I surrendering to? I knew it was supposed to be God, but even though I grew up in the church, I really didn't know God yet. I began to keep a journal and to write about how these words were manifested in my life. Slowly I came to the conclusion that I gave my power away out of fear. I tried too hard to be strong when letting go was all I needed to. "When I am weak God is strong", but I wasn't there yet. I was not able to see that I didn't need to pull myself up by my own bootstraps. I was trying to do God's job. I went through the rest of the steps as suggested to the best of my ability, but it wasn't till I started with a new sponsor after several years in the program that Step One took on a whole new dimension for me.

My new sponsor said to me one day that "I Can't" was a short version of Step One. When she said "I can't" a light bulb exploded in my brain! I immediately grasped what Step One was trying to reveal to me! It was that I can't fix the chaos around me and that I am powerless to fix almost everything. Realizing that "I can't" was probably the biggest epiphany of my spiritual journey in AA. It helped me to start letting go. I now could see the futility of what I have been trying to do all my life. To be honest I still sometimes try to slip back into my old habit of crazy thinking, trying to take over and fix things, but then my dis-ease reminds me it’s my Higher Power's job to take care of the universe and not mine! It is the small deaths daily to my ego that reveal my true self to me - the self that can be of service to others and not get stuck inside my head.

Step One continues to help me surrender and let go. The amount of time to let go depends on how much pain I want to deal with. Pain is a gift now instead of something I want to be free from. It is a warning sign. It usually means there is something wrong with my attitude or how I am looking at the world. I accept that pain and suffering are part of the human experience. Trying to escape pain is what led me to drink in the first place so accepting it has set me free. Today I have a new pair of glasses called AA. AA has helped me experience the world the way I feel God meant it to be for us. So today let January, a time of new beginnings, remind you that Step One is all about bringing you to a place of transition and transformation. May you experience it and you too finally let go.

Margaret D.

I recently had the coolest, most spiritual recovery experience I've had in quite a while!

One of our local meetings had four birthday celebrations, and although I don't normally go to that meeting (even though it's an awesome meeting), I went this particular night for the birthdays.

It was a huge meeting. I sat down and looked across the room and saw a lady who looked so familiar, but I couldn’t place where I knew her from. It didn't seem like it was from our local meetings.

Towards the end of the meeting she shared that she had just gotten out of prison, and it clicked. She had been in the women's facility that we had been taking meetings into for the past year! She shared that although she had a year clean, someone told her it didn't count since she was in prison. My first thoughts were how awesome it was to see this lady in a meeting and that people CAN recover in prison, too! Plus, she was going to meetings there and now at a meeting on the outside!

She picked up a white key tag when they were handed out. After all of the anniversary medallions were given out, the chair of the meeting stands up and says, “We just happen to have another one year medallion. And yes, prison clean time counts, so come get your medallion!” It teared me up then, and still does, and gives me chills every time I think about it.

Out of the six panel members for the women's department of corrections, five of us were at the meeting that night. That is amazing in itself. I'm not saying God magically put all this together—her being there, us being there, the medallion—but it certainly was a special god moment for me, another spiritual awakening, more proof that taking meetings into prisons does make a difference.

So, here's a plug for being of service in this way. In our area there are facilities WANTING recovery meetings—but there are not enough willing people to take these meetings in. Why, I wonder? We have a big fellowship. The women's prison panel goes in twice a month. Wouldn't it be awesome to go every week??? Many of us got clean in a prison or treatment facility. I know I did, and being of service in this way (taking meetings into prisons and treatment facilities) is how I show my gratitude. I'm grateful that the opportunity came up for us to go in this women's prison, and that I just happened to be at the right place, at the right time (a Hospitals and Institutions learning day) to find out about it. I need to be of service for my recovery and this is a much needed and very rewarding way to give back to the fellowship that saved my life.

-Lucy O

Advent is observed by the church as a time of expectant waiting and preparation for the birth of Jesus. The word Advent comes from Latin word adventus which means"coming" or "arrival" and in Greek it is the word parousia which was used to describe the coming of a King or in this case about Christ's second coming. So with these meanings in mind it is for many Christians that Advent is the anticipation of Christ coming from these two perspectives of the ancient longing for the Messiah and being alert for His coming again. It is about expectant waiting and the hope coming into the world.

When I was a child I would get so excited during Advent about the preparations for Christmas: the presents, the tree, the decorations, wrapping paper and the wonderful scents in the air of balsam and pine and especially the rich and succulent food prepared by my Grandmother. The anticipation alone would keep me awake at night. I would get so excited and anxious that I also could not enjoy the days of Advent, because I would wish them away for Christmas! As I got older it was the anticipation of the people that would come and celebrate with us, usually some new boyfriend when I was teenager and young adult. My feelings were always about me and my expectations.

Growing up in a home with an active alcoholic Father and in a family that pretended that the problem did not exist was very hard, especially since I wanted my home life to be different, to be normal. Many holidays were about stepping around the elephant in the living room. This would make me dive further into my own thoughts and desires, to try and think a way out of what was in front of me. Part of my escapism was at church; the smell of incense, the brightly colored poinsettias, and the beautiful carols during the holidays! I loved them so much I would wrap the sights, fragrances, and sounds of the season around me like a beautiful multicolored quilt to protect me from the fear that was always on the edge of my horizon. I would be so tightly wrapped in anticipation that come Christmas Day all the excitement was gone and only disappointment was what I felt. This would usually come to a peak for me on Christmas Eve. This is when my family would meet at my Grandmother's for dinner and presents. It would end with midnight mass at our Episcopal church. In the dark cold night of Christmas Eve as I left church I would look at the stars and wonder why all my dreams and wishes did not come true. Why did God not stop my Father from drinking? I prayed to God that he would make my Father well. I wanted God to love me and save me from all the craziness of my life. What was I doing wrong? So Christmas Day would come and we were just back to a normal day and my same problems were still right in front of me. I couldn't see God's Love right in front of me, within me and all around me. I didn't know how to see God's infinite love because I had so many expectations and no hope.

All the hopelessness of crazy thinking led me to drinking. I began to see myself repeating history that I saw in my Father's drinking. It terrified me that I was becoming like him. However, I knew about AA and I knew there was a solution there. I had seen my Father's best friend become sober and his life change miraculously. At my end I knew I had lost everything that meant anything to me. I was on my knees in so much pain that the only way out was to give up. Surrender and defeat became my "gifts" that I had been looking for all those years ago as I struggled to find the baby Jesus that would come on Christmas and save me. Looking back. my life had been a continuous crazy kind of “Advent" as I lay in wait hoping for something or someone to rescue me from my life. I looked for salvation in people, places, and things and of course that did not work. I also didn't see I had a part to play in all of this. It was through the action of my surrender that my real Savior materialized before my eyes and I realized God had always been there waiting patiently on me. What a surprise! God celebrates Advent too! He waits patiently for us to give up!

It was eight and a half years ago that I finally gave up. I now believe Christmas comes to each of us when it is supposed to. It is the gift of dying before we die that saves us and helps us find our Messiah. I began to see Advent for what it truly is. It is a time of quiet expectation, not the expectation that is leading up to a resentment like most of our human expectations are, but a spiritual expectation where we know that God Loves us just the way we are and His grace is sufficient for us. We are made in the image of God, we see God in His examples of creation and soon one day we will all return to God as the very source we came from. While we are here in Advent let us be patient and full of hope in waiting and know that God is already here waiting just for us!

Margaret D.

In 1992, as I was nearing my one year anniversary of sobriety, the season of Advent began.  “Cast away the works of darkness” spoke to me in a new way that year, even though I had heard and sung that line for nearly 40 years.  While the world around me moved into the darkest time of year, I was emerging from the darkest time of my life.  Putting on the armor of light of recovery and the sanctuary of the Church was literally and figuratively meaningful.

Thomas Cranmer’s words about casting away the works of darkness was for me about shedding the darkness of 20 years of drinking, a darkness that was so familiar, yet so debilitating.

In detox and treatment, I learned that sobriety was going to require action on my part.  Not difficult or stressful actions, but it was not going to be a passive undertaking.  I’ve heard it said ‘I didn’t do a thing’ to acquire my sobriety.  That’s not my experience.

If I show up for a meeting, I am taking action.  If I ask someone to be my sponsor, I am taking action.  If I go to lunch with a newcomer, I am taking action.  If I meet a fellow alcoholic for coffee, I am taking action.  If I pick up folks from a halfway house and take them to a meeting, I am taking action. Taking action is a way I put on the armor of light and experience God’s grace.

God’s favor towards us, unearned and undeserved, forgives us, enlightens us, and strengthens us.  Only with those gifts from God do I continue to have the ability to cast away the works of darkness on a daily basis.  For we know well that recovery is a daily reprieve, if we maintain our spiritual condition.

Until those last weeks and months before the bottom rose to meet me, I had never left the Episcopal Church. I believe that God missed me and came looking for me, through the action of friends who intervened, moving me to refuge and safety.  Words came back to me from countless hymns.  Immortal, invisible, God only wise, He tends and spares us, well our feeble frame he knows, God of grace and God of glory, I sing a song of the saints of God, patient and brave and true.

Together with what I was reading and hearing in treatment, I realized God was responsible for guiding me through the storm, keeping me alive and safe, when the course I was on was anything but.  Tears of peace and joy streamed from my eyes one afternoon when I was overcome with that realization. 

In retrospect, I realize it was in that moment I became conscious of contact with God, and I had the good fortune to feel the tears and be overcome with gratitude. 

Advent reminds us that God has visited us.  And God is coming again.  Put on the armor of light, again today, and be blessed with another season of sobriety.  Soon the season changes: the world is about to turn. The days get longer, the light moves closer, hope takes hold.

Okay, first off, I stole that title. It’s actually the headline from a recent blog post by the marketing guru Seth Godin.* My story does not relate to Seth’s story, it’s related to the headline itself.

About a month ago I had the pleasure of attending a talk by the Director of Community Relations from Hazeldon/Betty Ford, William Cope Moyers, a former crack addict and now a bestselling author. In his presentation he mentioned that when someone tells him that they had ‘hit bottom’ as a result of their addictive ways, he corrects them by saying, “The only real bottom is death.” In a Q&A following his talk, he unpacked the phrase to explain that while everyone has a different depth to which they have fallen, it’s not so deep that there is no way out. To describe a situation as a bottom means that there is no further depth to fall. Many of us who have lost friends and loved ones to addictive diseases know that whatever depth we have fallen to, it is not the ‘bottom’ that has taken so many others.

My personal journey into alcoholism has taken me to deep depths that have created feelings of grief and remorse for what I have lost and the hurt that I have caused loved ones that will last for the rest of my life.

My recovery has forced me to take 50 years of Christian formation and turn it upside-down. Most of what I studied was always through the filter of applying the lessons from scripture and the studies of theology to other people. People who needed help more than myself. How could I identify with those that needed these messages when I was, well, not perfect, but in complete control of my life? Wow. Talk about alcohol being cunning, baffling and powerful. I was the model of that sediment. I was not in control. In no way, shape or form.

I cannot, however, let my feelings and past failings get in the way of what God has laid in front of me, an incredible opportunity. This is where Seth Godin’s headline comes in. It’s a great metaphor.

The writings of Richard Rohr, with his plain and clear style, really spoke to me and forced me to look at life with a new set of filters. I could use my fall, to my depths, as a brand new starting point to not just rebuild a life, but to build a new life. One that can take the strengths and skills of my past life, work through the challenges created by my addiction, add a new ‘clearness of thought’ and emerge as a much stronger, focused and humble Christian servant.

“It's not the bottom, it's the foundation.” As clearly stated in Psalms 118:22-23, “The stone that the builders rejected has become the chief cornerstone. This is the Lord’s doing; it is marvelous in our eyes.”

That passage from Psalms always takes me back to my younger days as a counselor at Sheldon Calvary Camp with the words of Noel Paul Stookey of Peter, Paul and Mary fame from his song Building Block, “There is a man who has collected all the sorrow in our eyes. He gives us love as God directed but is seldom recognized. When all your dreams have been connected and your vision has been returned, remember, love, you are protected by the truth your heart has learned.”

Amen. Every day I am thankful for AA, my spiritual advisor, my Church, and my triune God for this amazing journey.

Andy M.
Sober since August 26, 2013

* http://sethgodin.typepad.com/seths_blog/2016/11/its-not-the-bottom-its-the-foundation.html

I was looking forward to attending my first Episcopal Recovery Ministries Annual Conference in Williamsburg, VA on November 3-5. The wonderful opportunity to connect with good friend in recovery journey from a previous parish, to hear about the work and resources for supporting recovery and healthy recovery living at my parish, and to meet and make new friends along that “happy road of destiny.” However, the literal “happy road” did not start very well.

Driving along I-64 to Williamsburg, I was about 1 mile from my exit when traffic stopped due to a truck accident ahead. I stopped in the right lane, turned on my emergency flashers, glanced in the rear view mirror to an empty highway behind me, and then started to text my friend to alert her of the delay. Something nudged me to look again in my rear view mirror, now to see a tractor trailer appearing around the bend at a high rate of speed. Sensing he would not be able to stop in time, I pounded on my horn, and then began to move to the right side of the road … just not soon enough. The truck clipped my back driver side, then careened and totaled two more cars in the eastbound lane, rocketing across the median strip to the westbound lane and totaling another two cars before stopping by hitting a tree. I joined with others in reaching one man who took the brunt of the impact, turning off the car engine and providing care until emergency help arrived soon afterward. There was a long waiting process, speaking to state police, completing reports, clearing the road of debris, and replacing my destroyed rear tire with a spare. My insurance carrier directed my to a local tire and car repair facility, who were most understanding and helpful in processing the work to obtain a replacement rim, tire, and damaged sensors so I may return home to attend to the body damage to the car.

Finally arriving at the hotel, most of the first day session completed, I sat in my room looking at the mini-refrigerator. Although and thankfully nothing was stocked inside, my addiction whispered in my soul, “A drink could make this all better, just like old times.”  I was firing on all the H.A.L.T. cylinders at this point – exhausted physically and mentally, just settling into the shock that I could have been in the hospital at that point, if not dead. I sat with that thought, the old voice whispering, and then …

I texted my friend to say I had arrived and needed to meet with her and others gathered as soon as possible! We met in the hotel lobby a little while later, driving with other new friends to the evening dinner and program, where I met more new friends in recovery. We shared stories, said prayers for the unknown man badly injured, trusting the Holy One would direct our healing intentions. I got out of my self, got right by using the recovery tools I know well, and the subtle but strong whisper disappeared. Sessions the next day were wonderful, learning more about brain science and spirituality of recovery, sharing resources, and making more new friends for the “happy road” ahead. I was reminded in spirit what my first sponsor would often say, “The grace of recovery is great because we receive God’s grace gratefully.”  The car was temporarily repaired to make my way home to family and parish, and my Sunday after All Saints Day sermon was changed to GREAT with GRATEFULNESS!

On Thanksgiving Day, I will begin my ninth and final year of serving at my parish, retiring sometime in 2017. While serving and sharing my recovering life with many during my years in this parish and others I have served, I am looking forward to being able to “spreading the message of recovery” with many, many more in years to come, along the Happy Road!

And for this, I am grateful

Before I stopped drinking I walked in fear and isolation. It was not until AA that I came to know that my life has a purpose. It seems to be to help other people just like me. This is the gift of AA and living a sober life. I see now that suffering is a part of all our lives, but being a victim is optional. It is what we do with our pain that makes a difference. I realized through the help of others in the program of AA that I didn't need to be a victim anymore. When they reached out their hand to me, I said yes to their gift. They helped me see that my powerless could actually set me free, and that by surrendering my life as I knew it, I would be changed. It wasn't an instant change, but a slow gradual one that happened by going to meetings and not drinking and by helping others.

Margaret

I remember well that cold, wet February evening when I walked in to my first meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous.  I believe that the minute I walked in the door my spirit began to awaken from a deep and deadly sleep.  The room was bright, warm, full of people with love for me before they even learned my name.  Yes, I inwardly rolled my eyes at the corny slogans on the wall -- One Day at a Time and Easy Does It – but the atmosphere of the room reached a part of me that had grown as cold as the weather outside.

A kind woman gave me the A.A. Big Book and in it she wrote, “It’s a WE deal!”  Apparently, that was the topic of that night’s discussion.  All I can remember was the talk about God.  I thought God had abandoned me and I cried through most of the meeting.

A few members of the group invited me to dinner and I followed them to a local restaurant.  I had a bowl of soup and listened to their happy conversation about their lives and how A.A. worked.  When a young man asked if I still had alcohol in the house, I answered honestly, yes.  I believe that was the first fruit of my spiritual awakening, that simple honest answer from me – a person who lied when telling the truth would be just as easy.  Someone else asked me if I could pour it out when I got home.  Again, an honest answer came from me when I admitted that I didn’t think I could do it.  It was suggested that I put it outside, away from sight.  I believed I could do that much and I did.

I was so hungry for relief from the agony of my alcoholism that I read almost the entire Big Book before I went to sleep.  I also prayed the Serenity Prayer that night and the miracle of my spiritual awakening really kicked in.

By the time I started on my second step with the guidance of a sponsor, I had become reacquainted with the God of love I’d grown to know as a child.  I had no trouble turning my will and my life over to the care of God when I did my Third Step on the banks of a beautiful little creek near my home group.

The rest of the steps weren’t as easy or maybe I wasn’t quite as desperate but I did them to the best of my ability.  When I got to Step Eleven, it was like coming to an oasis.  Establishing “conscious contact” with something I couldn’t see, hear or touch was a challenge but the process of prayer and meditation brought me then and now into contact with a loving force beyond my understanding.

I arranged a small meditation spot at a table with windows on two sides.  I keep a small vase of fresh flowers, a candle, my journals, a meditation book, my bible and a few other things that are special to me.  Almost every morning, I make time for what I call “Coffee with Jesus” at this small table.  My gray cat often joins me and as I enjoy this quiet time with my Lord and we watch the birds and squirrels in the backyard.

Currently, I’m struggling with a couple of life’s challenges and I have to admit that I’ve been discouraged and questioned God’s love for me as well as his very existence.  Nevertheless, I continue to have that brief quiet time at my table in the mornings.  It enriches my spiritual connection even in these times of doubt.  If I keep at it, I know my spirit will continue to awaken a little more day by day in spite of trouble and the difficulties that life presents me.  God is good!

-Anonymous

Before I had a program, I thought that my life was a play that I had to write, direct, star in, and produce. Even though I had prestigious degrees and affirmation at work, I felt overwhelmed and angry at all the different people I had to please to pull off the show. In my exhaustion, my solution was to isolate on the weekends, passing away hours alone in my apartment ruminating about how I ended up being so unhappy despite outward success. My solution to my isolation was to imagine the person who would break through the walls of my heart, freeing me from my isolation, fear, and shame. Looking for that person got me out of the physical walls of my apartment but I never found “the one.” Instead I found affairs, romantic intrigue, and the deep pain of feeling like I had failed God and my own values.

That pain brought me to program. I remember the freedom I felt when I first time I heard page 61 in the Big Book and the line when the authors describe how most people are like actors trying to run the show rather than letting God be the director, “Is he not really a self-seeker even when trying to be kind? Is he not a victim of the delusion that he can wrest satisfaction and happiness out of this world if he only manages well?” Those words freed me from the shame of feeling like a failure - of course I couldn’t manage; I was trying to do a job that was God’s job, not mine. So I poured myself into program – 90 in 90, three outreach calls a day, sponsorship, steps, service, daily meditation – to learn how to let God direct my life.

I am on step nine and feel the promises of the program bearing fruit in my life. I left a painful and destructive relationship. I left a job that paid well but that disconnected me from my Higher Power. I have moved to a new city I have wanted to move to for more than a decade. However, with all the positive changes are new fears about economic insecurity and uncertainty about where to find new friendships. But today when I feel overwhelmed and afraid, instead of going into a cycle of shame, overwhelm, and isolation, I make even more outreach calls, go to even more meetings, and spend even more time in prayer. I know that what I crave isn’t really any particular outcome but the freedom of knowing that God is running the show. The more I work my program, the more I realize that his play is far more joyous, fun and abundant than anything I could create.

-Anonymous