Into action

What a wonderful day! The weather was perfect beginning at sunrise, which helped set my mood for the day ahead, and the evening was crisp and clear; perfect for an outdoor event.

The success of finally being able to move the rest of my "new" bedroom set into my room is a relief. I was able to unpack the last of the boxes that were sitting on my balcony serving as a reminder of my little "episode" of self-will. I must say, the arrangement of the room and ridding it of the clutter has given me a feeling of being home. That's not to say there isn't work to be done in the room or with one of my roommates, but I have left the bedroom door open more, removing the physical barrier to encounters. The empty boxes remain on my balcony, torn down and stacked neatly in a corner. I have this irrational fear that the moment I get rid of them, I, or someone else may need them. And they are such perfect, sturdy boxes. It would be a shame to sentence them to the trash heap. So I wonder how long they will sit there. What will it take for me to haul them to the recycling bin? Is this reluctance of letting them go a symbol of my unwillingness to surrender to God's will? Or is it just that I didn't want to tackle dragging them down the fire escape today? In either case, there is clearly work to be done.

An evening fundraiser for a men's recovery home is not generally considered a frightening event. Yet I was dreading it. All those people, happy and easily conversing with others they don't know. And me, an awkward, social misfit. My initial declination for attending was based on my financial situation. True, I am currently without a source of income, but not a sufficient reason to deny support to a home that plays such a crucial part in helping alcoholic/addicted men put their lives back together. The director of this home holds a very special place in my heart. His "story" is a compelling one of heartbreak, as he was in the grips of his addiction with little hope, yet surrendered, thus changing his life as well as thousands (undoubtedly more) others'. And he is a Chicago native, so...I immediately fell in love with him. Well, not in love, but I do love him tremendously. I also have enormous respect for him and the work that he does. As I think about using that word, "work", I realize how inept it sounds. This is his calling. His passion. He helped me to open up emotionally; allow myself to be vulnerable. As any alcoholic can tell you, this is no small feat. The gift of unconditional love, from a man, I felt (for the first time in so long that I can not remember) from him. He has no agenda. He expects nothing in return. His smile and laughter are genuine. His embraces are warm and safe. His direction is clear. So when responding to a new friend's request to attend, as his guest, I immediately agreed, knowing I would have the opportunity to support someone so important to my recovery.

The evening was absolutely lovely. A different venue. Outdoors, in fact. The weather was perfect. The food, delicious. The turn-out was not as big as I remember from previous years. The silent auction items seemed not as abundant. Yet the mood was full of hope. The familiar faces I encountered all had some connection to this recovery home. The gratitude was apparent. Other faces, not so familiar, seemed to remember me. Huh? Me? There were more than a few residents, past and present, whom I do not remember. Yet they knew me. By name. Wow. I suddenly felt like I made a difference. I was showered with examples of small things I did, or said, that touched them at the exact moment they needed that particular tidbit. Things easy and uniquely me. Nothing profound. Just me. Which, when I think about it, is exactly why I remember certain people that I encountered in my earlier sobriety. Some of those people I have not seen again. Yet I know when I do, I will remember their name and recount to them why they touched me, just as these newly sober people did with me. It is an unbroken chain. If we can only overcome our fears. And we do. Because it's what we do. We show up for others, even when we're in fear. And we invariably get what we need as well.

As I snuggle in for the night, I rejoice in my comforting surroundings, full of gratitude that for just one more day, I am sober. As long as I continue to take action and face my fears, everything is possible. Even dance lessons.


Thank you for paying me a 12 step call.