Summer of 2004. It was my first meeting ever.
A dingy room downtown, filled with lively and chatty people. I was shaking madly. Not from nervousness, but from withdrawal.
My friend, Dan, leaned over to me and whispered that I didn’t need to announce myself when they asked for newcomers. But when they did ask for newcomers, I jumped up automatically and said loud and clear, as though I had been preparing to do that for years,
“Hi, I’m Heidi, and I’m an alcoholic.”
Dan broke out laughing. At the time, I didn’t understand why. Later, I would understand how hard it is to say those words out loud for the first time. Not for me right then. The freedom and relief in that moment was overwhelming—plus the room erupted in applause like I had just sunk a 30-foot putt!
Actually, I had.
Figuratively, I had been trying to line up that putt for years. Without God blowing it in on the final two inches when the roll started to slow down, I never would have made it into the cup.
Into sobriety. Finally. Surrender. I had carried the weight of it long enough.
I was ready.
I was home.
I was safe.
“Confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed.” James 5:16
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