So, I was thinking about miracles.
Which, even though this is a blog which talks a fair bit about God and doubt, disease and recovery, is a fairly saccharine way to start a post.
But there it is.
Sometimes the daily reprieve of my sobriety (by turns solid and then fragile) -- what we often refer to as a gift, or less often (but no less apt) God's Grace -- is such a breathtaking miracle that I cannot find a description which does it justice, be it in writing or when I share. Lately it feels like the miracle is most clear to me in those times when I can "hear" in my head -- virtually simultaneously -- the alcoholic thought and the sober, spiritually driven one. It's like my own personal George Baily moment; to see what I am like with the influence of a Higher Power and Alcoholics Anonymous in my life, and also see what I am like without it (and it's so easy to extrapolate from those "without it" moments the larger, grimmer picture of who, how and where I might be in life with active addiction driving me. The greater fear is not that I would be dead -- oh no. It is that I would keep limping along, and be some sad, sick, twisted version of myself.)
Sometimes I see the miracle I have -- the miracle I am -- when I get a glimpse of the man I might be without it.