Through the Red Door Blog

My mother was a by the book Roman Catholic. She followed all the rules. As I child I didn’t really understand what difference it made if I went up to the altar for communion and it was 3 minutes BEFORE the exact time of fasting was met. If we went into any church and forgot or did not have a hat, my mother would use a Kleenex to put on her head and the head of my sisters and me. So much about church was weird to me.

Ash Wednesday was one of the weirdest to me. I was thinking about it this past week and how it didn’t connect me to anything as a child. In fact, it scared me. I didn’t go to Catholic school, so I didn’t have the nuns trying to explain what Ash Wednesday was about. We would go to get ashes at the early mass, before school. It seemed that it was a rule that you couldn’t rub off the ashes on your forehead, so I was teased at the public school I went to. There were a few of us Catholic school kids at my school. When we looked at each other on that day I imagined that they felt the same way as me – embarrassed. I couldn’t answer the question – “why do you have that stuff on your forehead” because I didn’t really know.

Oh- I did know “From dust you came and dust you will return”. I thought it meant – I am dirty, and I will die! Dying was nothing I ever thought of. I was a kid, old people died.

Then there was the “giving things up for Lent” that followed. Again, I didn’t really understand. When I was in my teens and very critical of the church, I watched my mother “give up” alcohol for Lent.  She had a loophole though. Sundays were part of Lent but not days of abstinence. So, she drank on Sundays and would explain it by the rubric. The next year she decided that she would only drink wine and then the next year she just drank. I was beginning to understand that she had a problem with alcohol.

This year I found myself reflecting on what Lent could mean to me as a recovering person. Mardi Gras is an alcoholic’s dream. Let’s have a party for days and days, knowing that when Wednesday came you could change your ways and repent. Such a dream for me. I will have fun AND then I will stop drinking. But I rarely did.

When I found AA, the model of Mardi Gras and Lent became something else. It could be a celebration and then a change of heart and mind. The hole in me that would not be filled with more alcohol but rather with my higher power’s help. Giving things up became a time to do more 4^th and 10^th step work so I would rid myself of my more glaring defects. I could also reach out to others who might be struggling with their disease.

I am dust, we all are, and to dust we will return. Now that I am much older with many years of sobriety, I know this to be true. What will we do with this one precious life? I went to church last week and was blessed and given ashes on my forehead. Now it is a symbol of humility, gratitude and grace.

I appreciate this Ash Wednesday Reflection from Kate Bowler:

Today we begin our journey.

The first day to stop pretending.

To sit with what is fragile.

To let grace sneak in through the cracks

Libbie S.

In case you have not noticed there are political divisions among us that continue to tear at the fabric of society and civility. Political polarization is intensifying, with each side pushing against the other, often in ways that challenge the values we hold dear. The sense of unity and common purpose is hard to find, leaving many wondering where all this division will ultimately lead. These threats to our social cohesion are real and serious, raising serious concerns about the stability of democracy itself.

Global warming is becoming more and more apparent. We see the increasingly erratic weather patterns, rising sea levels, and the growing threats to ecosystems that provide essential resources. This does not bode well for the future. That’s some serious insecurity.

Then there’s the war in Ukraine, which threatens not only the global food supply but also the economy and global stability. The ripple effects of this conflict are felt across the world, as economies face inflation, shortages, and unrest. As nations pick sides and tensions rise, we wonder how long it will be before the world faces even greater consequences of war.

There seems to be no end to the gun violence either. Since 2014, the United States has averaged more than one mass shooting a day, with 4,011 recorded incidents in that time. It’s hard to ignore how pervasive and widespread gun violence has become, and many feel vulnerable, unable to escape the constant threat of harm.

And then there’s the rising addiction crisis, claiming more and more young lives. Mental health issues are escalating, and suicides have risen by 30%. These challenges, combined with the growing pressure on individuals, families, and communities, make it feel as though our safety nets are fraying, and our sense of security is slipping further away.

I don’t remember a time when life felt as insecure as it does now. In Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, security is the second most important need, after food and water. It is essential for our well-being and peace of mind. Without security we can find ourselves driven to all kinds of coping mechanisms, from substance use to unhealthy behaviors, in an attempt to escape the pressure of constant insecurity.

Faith is the only place I know to go when things are hard. My fears and insecurities can feel overwhelming, but my faith calls me to look away from those threats and trust in something far greater than anything that can harm me—including death itself. It’s only in God that I find ultimate safety and security, regardless of the chaos that may surround me. So, when the weight of the world feels too much to bear, I breathe deeply, look up, and remember that I am held in love, knowing that in God's hands, I am truly secure.

I lift up my eyes to the hills—
     from where will my help come?
My help comes from the Lord,
     who made heaven and earth.

Psalm 121-1-2 NRSV

Beyond a reasonable doubt, the typical active alcoholic simply drinks way too much every day and is intoxicated whenever and as often as he or she wishes, regardless of the consequences.  Their ever-present drunken ego joins the frolic and unconditionally releases him or her from that person’s moral standards:

“So, what if I collapsed into a stupor, vomiting on the kitchen floor or on my   spouse, or if I lost a job because I was drunk and lied about a contract. Divorce? You bet, she just didn’t understand nor did the kids and at last I can live without all their nagging and crying.”

Looking back, at some point, the active alcoholic may have entered a phase where this promise was made to a spouse, the kids or boss or judge, and perhaps made to all simultaneously:

“Never again will I drink.”

It was uttered with seriousness, perhaps it was really meant ... then.  The commitment may have lasted for a period, but too frequently, it was broken.

This is the reality of our alcoholism, a path as clear as can be.

The alcoholic may be aware of this reality but just can’t seem able or willing to quell its power and apparent inevitability.

The terrible fact is that he or she need not ride the car to the bottom of that canyon for he or she can get out of their “drunk-mobile” before it crashes and burns. Part of the tragedy is that the alcoholic probably knows that truth and nonetheless continues the ride down.

The Program’s sunshine tells us that all this horribleness can be stopped, eliminated from our lives. But it calls for drastic changes needed to reject the seductive calls of our alcohol-loving ego.

Make no mistake. Christ came because of the sinner ... we sin, always.  But He reaches out to us the sinners, to the downtrodden, to the prostitutes, the tax collectors. He offers His hand to assist us. At “the place of the Skull,” He reached for a thief hanging beside Him.

It’s said that Bill W and Dr. Bob, after they seemed to have found a way out of their own drunkenness, went to the hospitals in Akron and asked if there was “any patient who might be suffering from alcoholism”, and sure enough, they met and carried the Program’s message found in the Twelve Steps:  

Those steps cannot be clearer:

Steps 1,2 and 3-We’ve tried everything, we’re at the bottom, it’s “do something about it or die”. We turn to our Higher Power maybe not knowing what it is, but admitting that whatever it is, at a bare minimum, it - perhaps, maybe, dare I hope - will be “better for me” than the bottle.

Steps 4 through 10 provide a detailed step-by-step path to rid our minds and our darkness of the past, to remove it from our being, to make amends where appropriate and possible.

Eleven tells us not to sit on our fannies once we have “worked the Steps” for, as humans, we must recognize that we will always be attacked by our egos and risk returning to ego’s dark days. Step 11 calls us to rework the Steps, to deepen our reliance on a Higher Power who calls us to look for “that next right thing” in our daily lives.

And then comes Step 12 ... it politely says, don’t relax and feel comfortable with yourself...carry the good news. You found folks at the AA Clubhouse who responded to you when you reached out. Do the same for others in the same straits as you were.

It’s just as Christ always does for us...we reach for Him and His hand is there ... always  

Jim A, St X Noon, Springboro Noon, Wednesday

“The spirituality of the Twelve steps, and of A.A. as a whole, is clear and powerful. Hope, truth, honesty, letting go, acceptance, loving others as a way of loving self, gratitude—these are spiritual realities that are part of the culture of A.A.”* I am grateful that no one told me the above when I came into the program. All I was told, or probably remember, was “keep coming back.” And, truth be told, that was all I really needed to hear.

You see, I looked at the 12 steps and concluded that with my background in theology and the fact that I was an addictions counselor, I would be a significant help to this group. I would be a great asset. {an ass, yes}

After four and a half years on a dry drunk, I finally had my spiritual awakening and saw that I really needed to start over again.

“The spirituality of the Twelve Steps and of A.A. as a whole is clear and powerful.” When I had my mind and heart opened, I came to realize I had to relearn about spirituality, God, and a lot of humility. I was not one of those who came to the program and “got it.” I didn’t get it because of my pre-conceived notions and the fact I did not believe myself to be an alcoholic.

I heard what I needed to hear. “Keep coming back.” And I did. I listened to stories that almost matched my own, but I could not tell that to the speaker. It was my ‘dirty little secret” to be kept inside of me.

“Secrets will kill you,” I heard. Not me. I knew how to handle them with food, nicotine, and unhealthy relationships. “Truth, honesty.” I had this image of myself as being truthful and honest. Listening to stories, unable to not deny them to myself was making it clear that something had to give, something had to change. Going to the meetings and reading the Big Book was not enough. I had to be truthful to someone else. I had to be honest to myself, god, and others.

Emily Dickens once wrote, “Tell the truth but tell it slant.” In other words, not all of it and, in a way that is acceptable. I tried that and it didn’t work. This is an honesty program and “half measures availed us nothing.”

I had to let go of it all. Tell the truth and hope I won’t be rejected; hope I won’t be laughed at. One night I took a risk and told the group that thoughts of suicide had been running through my head. My face was flushed. I felt hot like I was running a high temp. It was nerves and what I had said could not be retracted. It was ‘out there’ and all heard it. One by one each told of thoughts of, and/or attempts of suicide before and after recovery. Better still, after the meeting all gave me a big warm hug. The “letting go” had begun. Gratitude came in its own time also. Gratitude for the Program, gratitude for the Fellowship, gratitude for Life, and for the new life I was beginning to breathe.

Acceptance came. I am an alcoholic. I am a drug addict. I have other addictions. I am a Child of God. “I am a child of the Universe, no less than the trees, or the stars in the sky, I have a right to be here.” Self-acceptance

“ . . .these are spiritual realities that are part of the culture of A.A.”  Spiritual realities. Why had I not been told this in my formative years instead of the guilt trips? Another thing to let go of. I’m not responsible for the decisions or opinions of others.

The fellowship has taught me a way of living that demands rigorous honesty and for this I am grateful. The Fellowship has given me a new life and a new lease on life and for this I am grateful. Today, I have experienced the “promises” as being a reality for me and that is a wonderful feeling. I can look back, as through a glass door, see where I came from, what happened, what I am like now, and give thanks to my Higher Power for another day of living sober and with peace of mind.

Séamus D.

Séamus is a retired episcopal priest in  New Orleans

* Twelve Steps to Religionless Spirituality. Ward  B. Ewing

We have a group of old-timers who have stopped going to meetings. Some of the group members had more than 30 years of sobriety. We used Richard Rohr's book "Breathing Under Water" as an enticement to come together, and you should have witnessed the beauty of fresh eyes as we poured into the book. People 15 or more years old stop going to meetings for various reasons: boredom, family pressure, old friends moving away, or dying. Some are admittedly hanging by a thread. They had stopped remembering how important it is to share our stories with someone with skin on. We have Al Anons and AA members in the same meeting feeding off each other. I am a double winner with children of an alcoholic who have suffered addiction too. Al-Anon showed me how to protect my family from an active addict. Most of the "saintly nine" I call them have suffered the same way I have and some have lost children.  Please, if you know an old-timer invite him/her to a meeting. Come up with a fresh idea that will keep them coming. Don't be afraid to mix with the winners.  

Bob L.
Tomball, TX.

I moved to Seattle in early Fall many years ago. The days were still long. Seattle is very far north (it is more north than the top of Maine)!  It also sits very far in the Pacific time zone and is closer to the next time zone. At the summer solstice there is 16 plus hours of daylight plus another hour or so of twilight. When the sun sets, and it is mostly dark at 10:30 – that’s when the fireworks of Fourth of July go off because before that it is too light to see them well.

By the time I arrived in early September, the sun was setting about 7:30PM, later than it was in Boston where I had lived, and 3 hours less than at the solstice. The weather was still sunny and warm (not like I believed Seattle would be like).

In the middle of October, the clouds moved in and the gray with drizzle that Seattle is known for started. When daylight savings time ended, I learned that THE BIG DARK (as it was called in Seattle) was starting. The Big Dark starts as the days get shorter and greyer (though there are a few days of sparkling sunshine) and wetter. Seattle gets about 40 inches of precipitation each year. Many places in the US get much more rain/snow than Seattle but there it comes in drizzle with a few storms that go on and on. Almost all the rain is from October 15-May 15. Then the weather changes to dry weather and sunny days with temps in the 80’s making the summer glorious.

I was working hard at a new job and barely noticed the growing dark days. Life was good for the first 5-6 years.  At the winter solstice, the sun sets at 4:10 in the afternoon without any twilight light and the sun doesn’t rise until 8am – barely 8 hours of light and since it’s grey so much it seems like it is dark all day. My good friend made me a calendar that went from November until March to help me see the minutes that are lost each day and then gained after the winter solstice.

It was during the dark days when my drinking got worse (the details don’t really matter) and my life looked much more like The Big Dark all the time. The winter solstice and the December before I stopped drinking and found AA was the worse. (Again, you can imagine). The Big Dark was now in me so bad that I knew I had to do something. I knew I had problems but couldn’t see that drinking had anything to do with them.

In January of 1990 my sister invited me to visit her. She had been sober for a few years. Then my oldest friend also encouraged me to see her as she had also been sober a few years. It was my sister who took me to my first meeting when I visited. I cried and cried and cried. I owe them both my sincere gratitude.

I didn’t really remember what was the actual first day that I did not drink. It was probably one of the last days of January. I did know though that I didn’t drink on February 1, so I picked that day.  Then I learned that February is a very important day in Seattle.  That is the day when the sun sets AFTER 5PM and it becomes noticeable that the light is returning, the Big Dark is really ending.

I came to see that the beginning of sobriety was and is a minute by minute thing. Like the sun after the winter solstice, at first, I did not see the change in the light or in me. By the day I claimed February 1 as my sobriety birthday, I noticed that the Big Dark was fading, and a new light could grow in me. And it has kept growing. Yes, there are cloudy and raining days, but I know now they don’t last.

I moved to Arizona a year ago and even though the sun shines most every day, there are still clouds and rain and wind - that’s life on life’s terms. And with God’s help, by the time you read this I will celebrate 35 years of sobriety.

Thank you, Libbie S

A day or so after my wife died at 1:27 AM, Tuesday the 14th, it came time for our children and me to plan her services at our church,” St Paul’s Episcopal Church on the Ohio River.”  We sought to follow what Judy would have wanted and then discussed our thoughts with clergy, the organist and soloist. All agreed with our selections for a simple service to be presented to our deeply grieving extended family.

We selected Psalm 121 to be read by my wife’s sister. Its words sang the good news that “...help cometh even from the Lord...” and we “...shall be preserved from all evil...”.

Our Bible study group had been discussing the Gospel of John the week before her death, and we had then focused on Chapter 6 and particularly verses 32-40. The simple words and phrases of these verses had deeply touched me, and I recommended these words for the service.  The kids agreed.

John 6:32-40 is the essence of Christ and His message: “... [For] anyone who comes to me, I will never drive away...” (John 6:37, New International Version).

These verses from John were read by her brother whose voice was sharp and was supported by his slow cadence.  

The words of the Psalmist and Christ were the “right lessons” for that gathering at St Paul’s. Nothing fancy, all to the point. Judy would have chosen these words.

During her final struggles and especially when it was clear she was slipping away, I prayed with her. I simply reminded her that Christ was there, waiting for her, reaching for her.

A day or two later, I thought of the similarity between the words of John’s Epistle and the essence of Alcoholics Anonymous.

The Steps of recovery are always there for us if we but “work ‘em”.  The words of the Psalmist, the Epistle and the “Big Book” each welcome us. Nothing fancy; they describe simple ways to find His love for us and our sobriety. For me, it’s the same path.  

Jim A, St X Noon

I am an organized person. My father would say: “A place for everything and everything in its place.” I like my life orderly and predictable – at least I think I do, but I know I often fail and then try to wrestle my life back into the order I want. It’s really about control. I want everything to go the way I want.

Recently, I heard someone relate a story about a friend who was very controlling, especially around events that they were responsible for at work. I too had been responsible for many years for large events and would get totally stressed out and irritable thinking, that would ensure that the event went off with no mistakes or problems. I made the experience not very enjoyable for all the people I worked with and even some guests.

The person shared with me that their friend wanted to let go of the overly controlling way they were and so they asked God to help. The prayer was simple: “Please surprise me.” What they were asking for was to let go of the outcome and trust. Trust that God would take care of the event and that it wasn’t all up to the planner. The surprise would be to leave room for a – well – a surprise!

So, I recently tried the prayer. I had a very important meeting with someone I deeply cared about and whom I had also hurt. We had hurt each other badly over many years and were meeting to see if we could…. I’m not quite sure what I wanted or what we would say to each other. I had written down what I thought was the amends I needed to make, to apologize, and ask if there was anything I needed to hear from him about my behavior. I knew what I hoped for. I wanted to listen and to share myself without expectations of how it would all turn out. I sat in my car before the meeting and meditated. Just before I got out of the car, I said out loud: “God, Please, surprise me, thank you.”

We were to meet for just an hour or so. It turned into 5 hours of real connection and deep sharing about so many things. We both took responsibility for the hurt we had contributed to the breach in our relationship. We talked and walked and even ended up having lunch together. It was a miracle, a God Shot experience. We hugged as we said goodbye knowing that we were open to a new kind of friendship.

As I got to my car, I realized that I had been given my surprise! I had forgotten all about my prayer from earlier in the day and all I knew was that a surprise miracle had happened, and I said again, “Thank you.”

When I got a new license plate after I moved, I knew what the plate would say, and I was happy to pay extra to always remember: 

Libbie S.

“The central fact of our lives today is the absolute certainty that our Creator has entered into our hearts and lives in a way which is indeed miraculous. He has commenced to accomplish those things for us which we could not do for ourselves.”* That quotation can also be found on January 1 in Daily Reflections.  I think it’s appropriate to begin this New Year with the acknowledgement of “the absolute certainty that our Creator has entered into our hearts and lives in a way which is indeed miraculous.”

What’s miraculous in not drinking? Any idiot can stop drinking.” So, I thought, when I told my boss I’d “quit drinking and go to AA.” Going to AA was easy. Quitting became difficult as the periodic craving tightened my stomach, and my mind was anywhere but on my work in the office or at home.

Looking back on it now, it is a miracle I did not drink during those first four-and-a-half years when I existed on a dry drunk. Self-satisfied, self-important, self-centered and selfish. I did all the right things for the wrong reasons, and it darn near killed me.

I look back now and think “It’s a miracle I did not kill myself driving on those narrow Irish roads in a black out. It’s a miracle I did not drive into a bayou driving in a blackout in Louisiana. Others did it. It’s a miracle I’m alive and well.

It’s a miracle indeed that I am alive and able to tell my story and know that, on my own, I could never have stopped drinking. After one drink, maybe. After two drinks, possibly. After three drinks came the blackout and God only knows what else. Most of what I did I learned about from those to whom I made Amends.

It’s not just certainty. It’s “absolute certainty.” There is no doubt, nor can there be any doubt that God. My Higher Power, stepped into my life and gave me back my life. I didn’t know I was among the walking dead. I never ceased to find it fascinating that I grew up in a denomination believing we were the one and only true church. Had it not been for AA, I would never have put my foot inside the church of another denomination. Slowly but surely, God was pushing me onto a new Spiritual Path that was wider than I could have ever imagined. Not only other denominations, but other Faith communities as well. The Spiritual program of A.A. not only helped me stop drinking, but it also assisted me – when my head was finally fog free - to open my mind and heart to God’s ways, not mine, nor male-made dogma and doctrine.

“He [God, Higher Power] has commenced to accomplish those things for us which we could not do for ourselves.” The simple steps. “Seamus, if you’re not living the program, you’re not working the steps.” What was the difference in living the program and working the steps? What do I have to do? “Just do the next right thing.”

Once I learned how to live the program on a daily basis – and that took a while – I discovered there’s a simplicity about this way of life. And yet, I could never have gotten this simplicity or recovery on my own. I wanted to complicate it with my own way of doing things and they did not work.    

It’s a miracle. The spiritual program teaches us that there are miracles on a daily basis; miracles of a newcomer coming to AA on an important holiday. Miracles of someone not killing themselves. Miracles in how we grow up and open ourselves to God’s path and not our own selfish road.

“The central fact of our lives today is the absolute certainty that our Creator has entered into our hearts and lives in a way which is indeed miraculous.” And now the miracle lives because “All we have is a daily reprieve based on the maintenance of our spiritual condition.”

My Higher Power directed and achieved the goal of getting me into the program, putting winners in my life, opened my mind and heart, and then it was up to me. I now had a choice. I could choose to continue my daily reprieve, or I could choose to return to the wilderness. What freedom! 

It is a miracle that I am here at my desk sharing this. It is a miracle that I am alive and well. I am a walking miracle. Miracles do happen. This new year I want to increase my conscious awareness of my Higher Power and especially in seeing and celebrating the miracles around me. We are all miracles.

*Alcoholics Anonymous.25.

Séamus D.
Séamus is a semi-retired Episcopal priest in the New Orleans area.

I have found it difficult to articulate my feelings each year as I approach my annual “sobriety birthday” in AA.

At my home group, like many groups, we have a chip system to denote our time in sobriety. White chip (one day), yellow chip (30 days), red chip (3 months), and so forth.

The colors of the chips and times they symbolize can vary from group to group, however the act of recognition is the important thing. Celebrating the shared accomplishment, in the context of our fellowship, shows how we are able to support each other. We are able stay sober one day at a time and demonstrate to the newcomer that the program works – it really does.

After a year, you receive a bronze token and get to share briefly with the group (just a minute or two) about “how you did it”.

When I was new to AA and sobriety, I would see folks getting their one-year or multi-year chips and imagine what a celebration it must be. Like a small victory parade: we clap, they smile, handshakes all around. What a momentous and fun occasion! (And without a doubt, it’s an important milestone to recognize.)

As I approached my own first anniversary several years ago, my emotions were all over the place. I was excited to surpass the one-year mark. It seemed to grant access into a certain unspoken society, moving toward “old timer” status where you measure your progress in years, not just days or months.

However, I wasn’t in the celebratory mood I had envisioned. I found myself re-living those last few dark days at my “bottom” before I had totally surrendered, and remembering how unmanageable my life had really become. It was an uncomfortable juxtaposition of tough memories and congratulatory messages. All the while remaining grateful for the journey and the many gifts of sobriety.

So, one of my sobriety tools is running. I ran some before I got sober, however in recovery running has become more spiritual and meditative, with benefits beyond the physical. An hour a day, first thing in the morning – often in the dark – provides time for prayer and contemplation. The first steps of my run each day always begin with the Serenity Prayer. 

At my most recent sobriety birthday (my 7th), I found some peace in a running parallel. I realized that each year in sobriety is not really like running a race at all (where you finish, celebrate, and have a big party).

Rather, it’s more like running a lap on a track. The closer you get to the end of the lap; there you are right back at the beginning again. And in truth, that’s the power of a journey in sobriety, rooted in spirituality and connectedness.

The laps remind me of my own weaknesses and fallibility and guide me through what I now find to be a constructive exercise of reliving those dark days. The laps build the muscle memory that through my recovery program (meetings, sponsorship, working the steps) I can stay sober through a power and a fellowship greater than myself, one day at a time. 

So, as I begin this next lap, I’ll start it the way I do each morning:

God,
Grant me the serenity,
To accept the things I cannot change,
The courage to change the things I can,
And the wisdom to know the difference.
Amen.

Rich K.
Durham NC