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90 days


I opened my personal email account the other day thinking I would rapid-fire delete some news updates, ads, and frivolous forwards, and then move on with the important events of my day. I was wrong — seriously wrong. Staring at the screen, eyes blinking, tears streaming, the lump in my throat grew so big I thought I was going to choke.

The message in front of me was both direct and profound:

"Today, by the grace of God, is 90 days sober."

As I read it, a thousand pictures flashed through my mind.

From a distance I have watched him wander on this long, silent, solitary journey. How long has it been? Months? Years? More than I know is all I know. I’ve watched him win, and stumble, and struggle, and win again. I’ve counted the hours on his long dark nights. I’ve imagined the excruciating images and memories he has tried to snuff out. And I’ve wondered how many mornings he woke up feeling like a hopeless failure.

He’s not. Especially not this morning. Not even slightly. Another email followed a short time later.

"This morning I was sitting out on the patio," he wrote, "enjoying the crisp air and the sunrise while reading out of an AA meditation/thought of the day book. Today’s was very good and I wanted to share it with you all. This is true. This is me. This is what I must deal with everyday."

And he sent this quote on the subject of VIGILANCE:

"Today I am an alcoholic. Tomorrow will be no different. My alcoholism lives within me now and forever. I must never forget what I am. Alcohol will surely kill me if I fail to recognize and acknowledge my disease on a daily basis. I am not playing a game in which a loss is a temporary setback. I am dealing with a disease for which there is no cure, only daily acceptance (of it) and vigilance."

This guy is going to make it. He may fail at some point again, but in the end — he’s going to make it. Not by any support or encouragement from me. Not by the brute force of his "superhuman strength." Not by another "miracle program" or "cure."

By the grace of God, and through his moment-to-moment gut-level choices.

He’s no hero — but he’s most definitely my hero. And I hope one day I’ll turn out to be half the man he is.

Here’s to 90 more.


Read more: VictorPost.com
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