Giving And Thanks

    The woman was asked by a friend if she would switch with her to take over last Thursday night. The woman immediately and happily agreed because, well, that's just who she is. But this wasn't a waitress or a nurse asking to swap shifts, and it wasn't your typical Thursday evening. It was an Alcoholics Anonymous (AA) meeting; and it was Thanksgiving. 

    I've been told, and I've read, that the holiday season can be the most difficult time of year for people with substance abuse issues. Don't get me wrong, the holiday season can be tough for millions of people going through hard times; whether the issues are economic, relationship/family, or just the mundane, everyday crap that life throws at you. Because life is hard. But there is something about a substance abuse addiction that seems, to me anyway, vastly different. The idea that one cannot control one's life. The sense of helplessness, hopelessness, loneliness, and utter despair that grips one when the desire for a needle, or a bottle, or a roll of the dice overwhelms you until nothing else matters. The fork in the road is now beckoning. Welcome to a meeting. 

    So the woman got to the church early where this particular meeting is held so she could set up. As I'm told, the leader lays out AA literature and gets the coffee going, while also putting out snacks. These meetings are usually held in a function room of sorts, so chairs have to be set up as well. Her first stop, however, was to walk into the upstairs sanctuary just to have a look around. Trust me when I tell you that walking into a dark church sanctuary with only the faintest of light to guide you can be an unnerving experience. I mean, if you're a believer, you've been taught your entire life about the war between good and evil that takes place all around you. Ghosts and spirits, angels and demons...all battling for your soul. And here you are in a church, at night, and you haven't turned the lights on. Talk about ground zero! Anyway, after a quick glance around, the woman got out unscathed. No harm, no foul.

    After setting up for the meeting, she sits for a bit and reads, wondering if anyone will show up this holiday evening and how long should she wait if no one does. Holiday attendance can be tricky. But not this time. A few minutes before the scheduled starting time, in walks a young man. He looks around and asks, "Excuse me, is there a meeting here tonight?" She replies that there is and welcomes the visitor to sit and help himself to coffee and snacks. Not a minute later, in walk three more young men who obviously know each other and arrived together. The same, quick conversation takes place between host and visitors, and the world of Alcoholics Anonymous begins. 

    As the five of them take their seats which are arranged in a circle of sorts, another conversation takes place. A conversation of temptations, of friendships and families decimated, and of the daily, if not hourly, fight to stay sober. The irony is that all of this is taking place against the backdrop of a family holiday that is all about giving thanks. Because when you think about it, these 5 people were, in their own way, also giving thanks. Not necessarily for the joys of family and friends (although there is a significant dose of that), but for living through the soul-shattering hell of bottoming out so they could begin the journey of recovery that Alcoholics Anonymous offers. Think about that for a minute. They are THANKFUL for bottoming out. Why? Because they know it is the only way to, using a phrase from my preacher forefathers, "get up out of Egypt."

    I'd like to share one story that the woman shared with me. While they were sitting around talking with each other in the basement of this church, one of the men shared a scene from his life that happened a few days earlier. While at home with his wife and infant child, he reached down to pick up the little one. As he lifted his child up and wrapped his arms around the joy of his life, his wife, gently but firmly, reached out and took the baby out of her husband's arms and said, "You can't hold her. You've been drinking." The young man related that she didn't say it with any rancor or hate. It was just a statement of fact. It was their reality. Again, think about that for a while. Their reality is that this young man is an alcoholic, and his wife is so worried and nervous, that she feels the need to take the child he loves, out of his arms. My heart broke for that anonymous young man and his wife when I heard that story. One of my holiday wishes is that the young child will get to grow up and know a sober father. And if I was even half the essayist I think I am, dear reader, I would end this piece right here and now and let you contemplate an ending for yourselves. 

    So on a very cold Thanksgiving night in 2024, four young men and one middle-aged woman, all anonymous to each other, talked over coffee and snacks and asked each other the ultimate life-questions that we all ask ourselves and others: Why me? How? What now? There was humor and sadness in the conversations. There was anger at the loss of a full life and the moronic, life-shattering decisions that had been made in the past, and then there were different degrees of hope for the future, albeit tempered by the knowledge of how difficult the journey is. There was also giving during this hour. The giving of ones self, in all of its ugliness to complete strangers. And there was thanks for the opportunity to share and give of ones self; to know that there were others who could commiserate with their hopes and pains. 

    The woman was overwhelmed by their thoughtfulness and politeness and their honesty. They helped her clean up and fold the chairs when their 60-minutes were up. And they thanked her profusely for not closing the doors before they arrived. Again, these young men had never been to this particular meeting and the woman was unsure as to what their expectations were. But all of the nerves faded away as they found their common ground during that hour: The search for sobriety...and peace of mind. 

    May every one of you find the sobriety, whether physical or spiritual, you might be looking for during this holiday season. May you remember that our lives are perpetually renewed by that ordinary process of hallowing the commonplace. And always, always remember the Yahwistic blessing, "More life; into a time without boundaries." Carry the fire...

Write to Peter: magtour@icloud.com