Two Decades Later

It was a cold October in 1988. At least in southern Wisconsin. The leaves had been blown away by northwest winds that had brought unseasonably cold weather into the area. But that was not the cause of the shivers I felt 20 years ago today. It was on that Saturday at the Mt. Morris Camp near Wautoma, WI that I admitted to myself that I was an alcoholic and in deep trouble.

I didn't- and couldn't- tell anyone that day. I was with some great people from my church, but it was beyond my ability to say it out loud. My wife was at home working on her last year of seminary. I didn't know how I was going to tell her the next day when I got home. I had already scheduled an assessment for Monday afternoon at a nearby treatment program for "impaired professionals."

I did, of course tell her, and thus began one helluva roller coaster ride that ended with a life in recovery that I can't believe is my good fortune to be blessed with. Twenty years later we are still married (and heading toward our 37th anniversary next spring). I have a wonderful relationship with her as well as with my daughter, now a young adult woman with skills and personality that can't have come from me.

I have reached the "top" of two professions, retired from one, and am awed each day that the world is such an incredible place. Life is an unfolding gift that seems like it has only just begun.

Twenty years. I feel like I have only just begun. And since all I have is one day at a time, maybe I have, maybe I have.