We had my 40th anniversary last Wednesday, the 19th. I say we because the fellowship and Grace had most everything to do with it, “I just didn’t drink and didn’t die.” The actual last drink or drug happened 3/18/1985 @ 13:30 so 24 hours later I began the counting of days, celebrating that next day as is our custom now having that elusive day. The moment came with its usual host of ghosts, the lead up having been maybe the worst time of my life back then.
Since last week, I’ve chaired a couple of times, letting fresh sober air and light into where the ghosts howl, remembering how on that day, the color, flavor, fragrance and tingle of life began to return and grow into a previously cold, damp and aching, sepia tone partial subsistence.
Thank you most kindly to a tolerant and patient fellowship, a loving and forgiving Power greater than booze of my slowly increasing understanding “that saved a wretch like me.” There is a God, her name is Grace and she whispers to your heart. Slow to a stop on occasion to silence the din. You’ll hear her small, soft and eternally profound song.
We had my 40th anniversary last Wednesday, the 19th. I say we because the fellowship and Grace had most everything to do with it, “I just didn’t drink and didn’t die.” The actual last drink or drug happened 3/18/1985 @ 13:30 so 24 hours later I began the counting of days, celebrating that next day as is our custom now having that elusive day. The moment came with its usual host of ghosts, the lead up having been maybe the worst time of my life back then.
Since last week, I’ve chaired a couple of times, letting fresh sober air and light into where the ghosts howl, remembering how on that day, the color, flavor, fragrance and tingle of life began to return and grow into a previously cold, damp and aching, sepia tone partial subsistence.
Thank you most kindly to a tolerant and patient fellowship, a loving and forgiving Power greater than booze of my slowly increasing understanding “that saved a wretch like me.” There is a God, her name is Grace and she whispers to your heart. Slow to a stop on occasion to silence the din. You’ll hear her small, soft and eternally profound song.
“Look well, to this day.”
Love,
Terry 🙏💜☘️🌹☯️
Congratulations on 40 years of continuous sobriety, Terry! God is so good ❗ 🥳 ❗
The poem on the way out. Major mic drop. Just what I needed.