Advent I

Yesterday it took me three matches to light the first candle on my Advent wreath. The first time I didn't hold the flame to the new wick long enough for it to catch. The second time, the flame caught, but in the moment that I turned away to put out the match, the candle flame had smoldered out. The third time I stayed close, making sure the flame had fully caught before dousing the match. Sometimes light is like that. It requires waiting, perseverance, and nurturing for it to kindle into flame.

And hope.

If I had given up after the first try, the candle would have remained unlit. But I had hope that if I just kept trying, the light would come.


Advent is like that. Waiting, hoping, keeping faith that the light will come. That the darkness will not overcome it.

When I was working in the theatre in my early thirties, I had the blessing of being unemployed several years during Advent. It may sound strange to call it a blessing, but it seemed that I always came down with a cold in December, and having time off from work allowed me to take care of my body. Being unemployed also meant that I had an abundance of time to sit quietly and reflect, to write, to read, to pray, to pay attention. Lack of employment also meant that I was poor, well, relatively speaking in 1st world terms, though still quite rich when compared with much of the rest of the world. I didn't have much disposable income, so I was forced to get creative with Christmas gifts and hand make as many as possible. I had to choose carefully the gifts I purchased in order to stretch my meager funds as far as I could. The luxury was that I had plenty of time to travel to be with family and friends and to share the gift of presence.

This year I am very meaningfully employed. I also have some unexpected expenses that are causing me to scale back on holiday spending. And I'm grateful. As I think about all the stuff that my friends and family have, I know that they don't need more from me. Instead I am scheming to spend more time being present – to other people, to myself, to God.

This Advent I am make a renewed commitment:
to resist the clarion call to deals and sales and to seek meaningful gifts from the heart,
to pray for the light that will pierce the darkness our world now experiences,
to stay awake to the pain and suffering of others instead of numbing myself with distractions,
to banish anxiety and despair and to cling to hope.

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness does not overcome it. That is what we are waiting for this Advent and every Advent. The light that shines in the darkness. May it quickly come and remain kindled in our hearts.

Sermon for Sunday, November 11, 2018 - Highs and Lows

 Highs and Lows

Anyone who’s participated in a group led by Deacon Jan or myself knows that we always begin with highs and lows.  We go around the room and invite each person there to share something that’s going well and something that’s not going well.  It brings everyone’s voice into the room and allows us to know what’s going on with each other, what’s alive for each person present there that day.

We don’t have time to do highs and lows for everyone here this morning. So, I’ll just mention a few that are on my mind and may be on yours.  I’m going to start with the lows:  the shooting that claimed 12 lives at the Borderline Bar and Grill in Thousand Oaks, California, the fires that have taken homes, lives, and whole towns in both southern and northern California, and the continued hostility in our country’s public discourse and politics.

Highs have included seeing the bags for the Thanksgiving food drive coming in, a win for William and Mary this weekend, and the large number of voters who turned out for the mid-term elections.  Whether your candidate won or lost, I’m betting that a high for most of us since Tuesday has been the end of campaign ads.  

There are also some historical highs and lows that we’re remembering this weekend.  Friday night marked a true low, the 80^thanniversary of Kristallnacht, the night in 1938 when a pogrom was carried out against the Jews in Germany, killing close to a hundred, destroying thousands of synagogues, cemeteries, and businesses, and sending 30,000 Jewish men to concentration camps.

An historical high is today, when we mark the 100^thanniversary of the end of World War I.  We’ll be ringing the tower bells just prior to the 11:00 service as part of an international initiative to celebrate when the guns went silent after years of war.

Even Veterans Day is a combined high and low.  A low that we have not yet as human beings discovered ways to live peacefully with each other, and so our world is still marred by war. A high as we recognize the men and women who have been willing to serve and risk their lives to protect their country.

I’m sure each of you have your particular highs and lows today as well. 

On Tuesday at the end of the Recovery Bible Study that we hold every week at SpiritWorks, I asked one of our community members if she had any thoughts to share with us about today’s gospel passage.  She said, “Well, I just think Jesus was sharing his highs and lows.”

As I looked back at the passage, I chuckled.  Yes, indeed.  Jesus started with his low: the pride of the religious leaders of his time, who lorded it over others, strutting around in fine garments and taking the best seats, devouring widow’s houses, perhaps by convincing the women to give all they had to the temple.

Jesus ends with his high, turning his attention to one poor widow, among the crowds who are putting their offerings in the temple treasury.  Many of them are making large contributions, but the one he points out to his disciples is the woman who puts in 2 small coins, a pittance, but all that she has.

Now there are two ways that this passage tends to be interpreted by people like me who wear long robes and stand in pulpits and have the best seats in the church.  The first is to suggest that Jesus is holding up the poor woman with her two coins as an example for sacrificial giving, and that we need to do the same.  

A second popular interpretation is to suggest that Jesus is criticizing the temple system of his time.  According to Torah, the Jewish people were required to look after the poor, the widow, and the orphan.  But these scribes aren’t doing that.  The poor widow shouldn’t be in a place where she only has two coins to give because the very institution that she’s giving them to should be taking care of her.    

My guess is that Jesus is doing both things – lamenting that the system is unjust for the widow, the orphan, and the poor, andlifting up the poor woman’s gift as more favorable than the gifts of others because of her willingness to give her all.  

So what are we to do with this story?  It seems unlikely that any of us are going to give everything we own to the church.  As much as it’s tempting to make this a stewardship sermon, I don’t think Jesus pointed out the widow to his disciples in order to inspire or guilt his followers two thousand years later into giving more to the church.  Of course it is good to give to the church!

Or perhaps we’re supposed to be motivated to work for more just systems for the poor of our time.  As Christians we’re always supposed to be doing our part for those who have less than we do, for those who are oppressed for those who are on the margins.  But I can’t help wondering if there’s another message here.  

Jesus sees.  He sees the Temple and its flaws.  He sees the pride and the power of the scribes.  He sees the crowd giving out of their abundance.  He sees the widow.  He sees her in her poverty.  And he sees her giving everything she has.  Just as he will give everything a few days down the road when he dies by the hand of the same systems and institutions that are oppressing her.  

Out of all the people at the Temple that day, Jesus notices this woman and points her out so that the disciples will see her too.  This particular person, in this particular place, making this particular offering.  

Perhaps we’re not called to be like the widow.  Perhaps we are called to seethe widow.  Not as a generic “person over there” who needs our help or our pity.  But as a fellow human being on this earth, another beloved child of God who deserves to be seen and known, just as we do.  An individual person with needs and wants, with highs and lows.  David Lose says, “Championing ‘the poor’ is one thing; knowing the name and taking the time to care about, a specific person who has very little is another thing all together.”[1] 

Sisters and brothers, how many people a day do we pass by and not see?  

How much of the violence and hatred and hurt and pain in this world is caused because people don’t feel seen or heard? 

We’ve all had times when we weren’t seen or heard; it feels awful.  

What can we do to make sure that we see and hear those whom we encounter?  It doesn’t take great wealth to do that.  

It doesn’t take power.  

It doesn’t take influence.  

It takes pausing our own headlong rush through life, looking away from all our distractions, lifting our heads up from our own needs and wants, in order to really see those around us.  To listen to their highs and lows, to hear their struggles and their joys, to understand their particular needs and desires.  

Jesus does that for us.  He sees each one of us.  Our flaws and gifts.  Our pride and our poverty.  Our needs and our wants.  He sees us and loves us.  

As Jesus’ disciples, we are called to notice others.  

See them.  Hear them.  Love them. 

And then perhaps one day, our high every week will be hearing the ringing of the bells of peace instead of the guns of war.  

The bells that call us to worship.

The bells that call us to freedom.

The bells that call us to the joy of walking with our Savior in the way of love.  

Veterans ringing the Bruton Tower Bell at 11:00am on 11/11/18

  

---

[1]David Lose, http://www.davidlose.net/2018/11/pentecost-25-b-seeing-the-widow/

  

Ten Favorite Books - Who Can Choose?

I didn't want to be tagged or invited to the ten favorite/important books game on Facebook.  Not because I don't enjoy a game or want to be a good sport.  But because it's too hard to choose.  How do I pick between Narnia and Oz, between L'Engle and LeGuin, between Anne Lamott and Barbara Brown Taylor, between Middle Earth and Hogwarts, between Sara Miles and Nadia Bolz Weber, between Pern and Gwynedd, between Charles de Lint and Juliet Marillier, between fantasy and science fiction, between books that tell stories and books that shape your own story?  How do I choose between Little House on the Prairie and Little Women?  How do I decide whether Earthsea beats out Darkover?  How do I choose between books that teach you how to write, books that teach you how to pray, books that teach you how to preach, or books that teach you how to act?  (Well, those were pretty easy - you go out and do those things instead of reading about them, but two books about writing did make it to the top 10.)

Let's face it, I love books, always have, always will.  It's too hard to pick out my favorites. The bookshelves pictured are just some of the ones in my house.  They don't include the ones in my two offices or any of the piles of books or the books I read but never bought. These bookshelves mostly contain my favorite books.  Who can choose?

What's been interesting is how many of the books that stick out as my favorites were ones that I read as a child.  Whenever I go to used book stores or sales, I always check the children's section.  Most of Alexander Key is no longer in print - will I find one of his books that someone has finally let go of?  Will I find the books by authors whose names I no longer remember but whose covers I can still see in my head?  Will I finally find those books I checked out of the library in the next town over and loved but never saw again?  Sometimes I do, and I scoop them up and spend time with characters half-remembered.  At last year's Bruton Parish Book Sale, I found Fog Magic, The Westing Game, and Five Children and It.  Delight filled me as I revisited those stories.  You'd think with all the books I haven't read that I wouldn't spend time returning to the ones I have - but there's something marvelous about dipping back into a story that I loved as a child.

Those stories from my childhood and teen years have shaped me in ways that I can't even articulate.  Always the battles between good and evil, the stories of the heroic quest, the tales about learning to believe in oneself.  That's why I tend toward science fiction and fantasy - there's something archetypal in many of those stories that speaks to my soul.

The other surprise was that no books of theology made it to the list.  Nothing from seminary, though I did consider No Future Without Forgiveness by Desmond Tutu and Take This Bread by Sara Miles.  I walked around looking at all my shelves searching for something that I just had to include.  I saw the favorites my clergy colleagues posted, and I wondered what was wrong with me.  I knew I wasn't a scholar, but hmmm...  I'm embarrassed to say that when I first began discerning whether I had a call to ordination, I wrote in my journal, "How can I be a priest?  I'd rather read science fiction than the Bible."  I'm sure that's not the right thing to say, but it was honest.

I finally decided that I would pick 10 books that had stayed with me for a long time.  And then I gave myself 3 extra.  Because as much as I love to read fiction, as dearly as I love to burrow under the covers with a tale of magic and far-off worlds, I cannot imagine my life without William Shakespeare, The Book of Common Prayer, and the Bible.  Talk about the ultimate story of good and evil.  It surprised me how much thinking time I've given to this little game.  Playing has made me want to go back and reread many of my favorites.  But there are four books on my bed and four more on the bedside table.  Guess I'd better keep moving along.




If you haven't gotten to play the game yet, go ahead.  Ten favorite books.  See if you can do it.  I might have to play again.  Ten more.  And then ten more after that.  And then ten more after that...

49! And Going Strong

Today is my 49th birthday.  It's been quite a week.  On Wednesday at the SpiritWorks Women's Group, we celebrated several birthdays, including mine, with coconut cake, cards and laughter.  I received a locket with a labyrinth on it that has quickly become a favorite.  Yesterday, on my birthday eve, as I like to call it, I walked into SpiritWorks and saw a box of Godiva chocolates awaiting me with a beautiful card signed by members of the SpiritWorks community.  Then, in the late afternoon, Lynn Smyth and Jan surprised me with a gathering of friends from SpiritWorks and Bruton.  What a delightful end to the work week.  Tomorrow I leave for a retreat at Valle Crucis in North Carolina, where I will spend the week in a hermitage: hiking in the mountains, writing, reading, resting, and best of all, hanging out with God.  This year I will be on the brink of a new decade of life as well as starting a new decade of ordained ministry.  Seems like a good time to be quiet and listen to God.

For awhile now I have been struggling with what I suppose to be peri-menopausal symptoms that mostly affect my mood.  Anxiety/agitation takes over my body, making me feel like I'm crawling out of my skin.  Depression/hopelessness drags me down, making everything seem difficult.  Fatigue saps my energy and causes me to feel like I'm struggling through molasses to get up in the morning and then frequently overtakes me during the day.  Some days I just put one foot in front of the other.  I've tried many things with varying degrees of success, but recently the fatigue and roller coaster emotions have really been tough.  Thursday I went to Acupuncture Works for my first session of acupuncture, at the recommendation of my therapist.  I hate needles, and I've been known to pass out when giving blood.  But I've been so miserable that I was willing to try anything.

They say acupuncture doesn't hurt, and it's true.  Mostly.  I did feel a little prick from a couple of the needles, but only briefly, and not enough to be upsetting.  With a lavender eye mask over my closed eyes, resting comfortably with pillows supporting my head and knees, I felt like I was floating.  I drifted into what I call "lala land," a place that is almost sleep, but not quite - a place that I imagine some people experience in meditation but I almost never do.  I floated there, head chatter fading after a few minutes, feeling a deep, peaceful rest.  When the session was over, I felt spacey.  That evening I was a little off, going through short spurts of moods, even while I was walking the labyrinth.

Then came what I consider a minor miracle.  Or maybe not so minor.  On Friday morning I woke up before my alarm and had energy!  I don't realize how poorly I'm feeling until I feel good again. And yesterday was truly remarkable.  I had energy all day.  Even with all the cake and other sweets that I ate!  All week I had felt like I was running on the last wisps of fumes of fuel in my tank.  Today I also woke up with energy.  I am so grateful.

I love birthdays.  I always have.  It's the one day we get to celebrate ourselves and how amazing it is that God put us here on this earth.  It's our own personal new year's day.  I've never been one to hide from or dread birthdays.  (There was some grief at 40 when I realized I was probably not going to have children, so that one was bittersweet.)  I embrace them.  I am 49, almost half a century.  Thanks be to God.  My birthday wish is that all of us find joy in each day and love each other well.  May we all know the love of the one who created us and spread that love with abandon.  And may we all wake up with energy and purpose, facing our challenges and blessings with grace and returning to sleep each night with gratitude in our hearts.

Nifty Fifty

We didn't know what to expect.  Earlier in the year, a friend of Jan's suggested that SpiritWorks participate in #givelocal757, the fundraising event on May 8.  So we decided to give it a go. We created a profile and started advertising a bit.  We didn't have time for more than that.  We decided that for the first year, we would just see what happens without fretting too much in advance.  A couple of weeks before the contest we started sharing the event on social media, taking selfies, and trying to choose the particular prizes we wanted to try to get. The Nifty Fifty challenge sounded interesting to us.  Whichever organization received donations from the greatest number of states would receive $757.  The day before we set our monetary goal at $5000 and our donor goal at 75.  We had no idea what to expect.

We started getting donations on May 7.  Which was fun.  The contest was set to run from midnight to 11:59 p.m. on May 8, and only online donations made during that time counted toward prizes.  Early donations didn't help win prizes, and we didn't care.  We were just happy to receive them.  We started texting each other and some of our volunteers every time a donation came in.  We were like children on Christmas Eve, unwrapping a few presents early, saying, "Did you see that one?"  At 10:00 p.m. I decided I would try to stay awake until midnight just to see what it was like.  And so I could make my donation to kick us off.  I logged in, answered a few questions, entered my info, and voila! When I checked our donation status, we had our first one from another state.  NY!  A former parishioner was up at midnight and helped us out with our first state outside of VA.  After a couple more donations came in, I realized that I needed to sleep so I would be able to maintain my enthusiasm the next day.

I woke up about 6:30 and immediately picked up my phone to see where we were.  By the time I headed into SpiritWorks, Jan and Lynn, our Volunteer Coordinator, had already started drawing boxes around states and checking them off.  We began what would be hours of watching donations come in mixed with emailing and calling friends in other states to ask if they would make just a tiny $10 donation so that we could count their state in.  A few people donated on behalf of their home states, which was fun, even though we couldn't technically count them unless they came in from that state.  Still, every dollar raised would help us in our work. SpiritWorks' community members were on their cell phones, calling family and friends.  People in recovery sent messages about how much life in recovery meant to them and thanking us for our work.  The $10 donations were rolling in, and we cheered with each new donor and each new state.  It felt like election night when your candidate is winning.

We also had donations coming in of higher amounts.  Including a $1000 check that we went and picked up.  Didn't count for the contest, but boy did it count for SpiritWorks. Our eyes started leaking a bit around the corners as we saw each name, some known and beloved, some unknown and greatly appreciated for their willingness.  "Did you see that this person donated?" we would ask each other.  "Go mark that state!" we would tell the person nearest the flip chart.  Some came in anonymously so we didn't know what state they were from, so we doubled up on some states to make sure we had them.

At 3:00 I left to drive to North Carolina to stay with a friend before attending a writing conference starting the next day.  Periodically I called to check in on the status, tempted to look at my phone but knowing I needed to keep my eyes on the road.  I set my phone down while eating dinner and visiting with my friends so that I wouldn't be distracted.  My phone buzzed with more texts than I've ever gotten in a single day as Jan and company tried to eke out every possible state. For me, friends from seminary, high school, college, and church responded to my plea.

I had intended to go to sleep so that I would be rested for my conference, but I couldn't help it.  I had to see if we would win the prize.  At 11:00 Peninsula Community Foundation posted a picture showing that we were in the lead by 1 state.  Iowa and Hawaii came in after that, but we had no idea if anyone had jumped ahead.  At some point in the evening we passed our $5000 goal and our 75 donors.  As far as I was concerned, the event was a complete success, whether we won the prize or not.  At midnight I began checking the prize page and refreshing it over and over.  All of a sudden, there it was.  Nifty Fifty prize - SpiritWorks!!!  I texted the others, a few of whom had fallen asleep after their long day of exertion.  I couldn't believe it.  We met and surpassed all of our goals, and won our prize.  In the end we had over $7700 and over 100 donors.

Daisy thanks you too!

Surprisingly, donations have continued to drop in.  I don't know what our totals are, as I am at the writing conference.  (Where clearly, I am writing!)  What I do know is that people from across the country - old friends, new friends, supporters of people in recovery, people who have benefitted from or seen someone benefit from our work, family members, and a host of church members, volunteers, and loved ones in Virginia have given so generously to SpiritWorks that I've been too excited to sleep.  Thank you, all.  For supporting our work at SpiritWorks, including our new Institute for Recovery and Resilience, for supporting our community and those who are in recovery, for believing in what we are doing, for joining us in having fun with our contest.  You have given us hope and brought us joy that will sustain us as we continue to give hope and bring joy to those who are affected by addiction.  You made a difference, and we will use your gift well.

Book Update

I probably have to face the fact that from Advent through Easter, I simply don't have time to write.  Well, books and blog posts, anyway.  I write plenty of sermons, newsletter articles, letters, notes, and other correspondence, but I don't have the extra hours I need to work on more creative writing.  Perhaps if I gave up sleep.  Except I'm very partial to sleep.  I so envy those people who can rise at 4 or 5am to work on their writing or exercise or prayer or whatever wonderful things they do in those hours.  I can't.  I can't do anything before about 7am except sleep.  And yes, I often do have to get up before that for my jobs, but you may notice that I'm not quite all there until later in the morning!

All that being said, I have been working on my labyrinth book and today I completed a rewrite of chapter two.  (Please encourage me with congratulations!)  Last fall I took a class on Creative Nonfiction and Memoir from The Muse in Norfolk, and I received feedback on several chapters of my book.  So much feedback that I've completely started over on the beginning.  The class thought my last chapter might make a better first chapter.  Along with some critique from my trusted readers, I have taken the suggestions and am completely reworking my material.

Little digression here:  I wish I had an orderly writing process.  But I never have.  It may be that when I wrote my very first term paper, I followed a process where I did note cards and then created an outline and then wrote the paper from the outline.  But I think even on that paper I still ended up switching around paragraphs and not writing intros and conclusions until the rest of the paper was done.  (Something that was much more difficult before computers - and yes, I'm that old!)  All through college and seminary, I could never write a paper from an outline.  If I had to turn in an outline, I had to write the paper and then create the outline.  So, although I envy those who can work in a more methodical way, I just can't do it.  It seems that I have to wallow around in chaos for a very long time before the order starts to emerge.

I believe some order is finally emerging, and I'm grateful.  This book, if it ever gets published, will have to wait until another phase of my life, but I'm using it to practice the craft of writing, and I'm hoping more books and shorter projects will come out of it.  I'm excited to be attending a spiritual writing conference next week with two colleagues and Barbara Brown Taylor and Lauren Winner and editors and other cool people and hoping to be inspired to use a little more time to write and a little less time to sleep.

So, dear readers, I hope to be posting more content soon.  Don't give up on me!  In the meantime, enjoy this picture of a recent labyrinth walk.

0 Proof Life

At SpiritWorks we've been working on an initiative to create alcohol-free drinks to be served at events.  We call them SoBar drinks, and we hope one day to open a sober bar/cafe with the same name as well as to host "dry areas" at big events.  SoBar will provide jobs for people in recovery as well as fun, festive, tasty "0 Proof" drinks for events and occasions of all kinds.  The Episcopal Church requires churches to provide "equally attractive non-alcoholic beverages" (EANABs) at events where alcohol is served.  These EANABs usually consist of a couple of pitchers of water and perhaps some tea and/or Country Time lemonade.  Cans or two-liters of soda sometimes appear as well.  We want to provide a more-attractive option, one that might shift alcohol to being the alternative instead of the norm.  We don't understand why people seem to need alcohol in order to have fun.  It's certainly fine for people without substance use disorders to have a beer or a glass of wine, but there seems to be a thought that people won't come or won't have fun if alcohol isn't being served.  Why is that?

During our recent benefit concert, we served our SoBar drinks, and they were a huge hit. Strawberry, raspberry, and blackberry lemonade garnished with fresh fruit, caramel apple cider steaming hot, coffee and tea with flavored syrups, and Italian sodas.  They looked fresh and festive, and they tasted great.  And everyone had a good time.  No one had to worry about being safe driving home.  Everyone remembered the evening's events.

Six years ago I began working at SpiritWorks Foundation:  Center for Recovery of the Soul, a recovery community organization for people healing from the disease of addiction.  In the months leading up to starting, I had a decision to make.  Was I going to stop drinking alcohol?

I didn't drink until I got to college.  The summer after graduating from high school, I dated an alcoholic, and that scared me.  I knew how to have fun without imbibing, and I didn't really like the taste of it anyhow.  But around March of my freshman year, being surrounded by so many people drinking and seeming to have such a good time doing so, I decided I need to learn how to drink.  Ostensibly because I was a theatre major, and I wanted to be able to portray drunk characters realistically.  Though I never learned to like beer, and wine gave me an instant headache, I did like sweet, fruity mixed drinks. Daiquiris, vodka collins, cosmopolitans, grasshoppers, fuzzy navels, and what became my drink of choice - white russians.  I was careful because there is some alcoholism further back in my family, and I was scared of becoming dependent.  But I did binge drink, and I was in a culture of drinking.  I didn't have a car, so I never had to worry about being safe behind the wheel, and I rarely got hungover because I always drank a stadium cup of water and took two Advil before going to bed, but there were certainly times when I drank too much and some things I did while drinking that I'm not proud of.

When I graduated and went into professional theatre, I found drinking mixed drinks expensive, and I always had to be concerned about driving home.  That caused me to drink less often and to have fewer drinks.  I was always a light-weight.  1 or 2 drinks got me nicely buzzed, but I also knew that a little bit went a long way in decreasing my reflexes.  Many nights I sat in the bar after a show, counting hours, hoping that I was waiting long enough to get in my car and go home.

By the time I became a priest, binge drinking was a thing of the past, but I did enjoy an occasional Mike's Hard Lemonade or Woodpecker Hard Cider.  Alcohol wasn't a problem for me, but I was wary of it.  I enjoyed it, but I found fewer times and places that I wanted to drink.  As an ordained person, drunkenness seemed inappropriate, and I didn't want to drink on the job.  On the job is most of the time now.

Alcohol wasn't a problem for me, but codependence was, and as I started attending support groups for my people-pleasing, controlling, compliant behaviors, I began spending more time with people in recovery of all kinds.  The destructive power of alcohol became clear to me.  So I needed to decide whether I could work for a recovery organization and continue drinking myself, even if it was only occasionally.  Plenty of people do.  Nothing wrong with having a glass of wine at home after a long day.  Except that the people you're trying to help quit can't do that.

I decided that I couldn't work at SpiritWorks and continue to drink.  So I quit.  Almost seven years ago.  I don't miss it at all.  I never have to worry whether it's been long enough since I took my last drink to get behind the wheel.  I never have to consider whether drinking alcohol is appropriate to a given situation.  And I don't have to worry about the hypocrisy of asking another person to give up doing something that I'm not willing to give up.  I'm not noble, and what I've done isn't special - clearly I wasn't addicted to alcohol, as I've never felt a compulsion to drink.  There is relief and freedom, though, in not ever having to think about it.  And gratitude - I don't need alcohol to have fun.  Once upon a time I was so shy that I needed a couple of drinks in order to dance.  At our benefit I was able to be the "Dancing Priest" during the BROADway Babes rendition of "Dancing Queen," and it was SO MUCH FUN!

I'm still in recovery from codependence, and probably always will be - I do have a compulsive need to people please.   But I'm grateful for the steps I've taken, and I believe that giving up alcohol has helped.  It's not something everyone needs to do, but it was what I needed to do in order to have integrity.  It surprises me how often people want me to drink and press me to have a drink, but even that is starting to diminish.  How grateful I am for my 0 Proof Life and for all that it has allowed me to do!