Years of heavy drinking had taken their toll on my soul. A few scars here and there appeared on my body, but it was the scars no one could see that brought me to my knees. I pleaded, “God, please help me, I can’t do this anymore!” The next statement revealed the crux of my dilemma, “But I can’t not do it either.” With this admission, although I did not realize it then, I started on the road home. I define home as being comfortable in my own skin.
I had quit drinking many times before, but I sensed, this time was different. I wasn’t doing it alone. Angels were surrounding me, putting me in situations, places and sometimes the words in my mouth. Without these angels, I know I would have been dead long ago. Being sober and now willing to listen to answers to my recent prayer request, they allowed me to see with an inner vision.
It was not, however, an inner vision that appeared to me after 30-days without alcohol. It was a handsome man that swept me off my feet, literally. He invited me to dance to a waltz that asked, “Could I have this dance for the rest of my life? Would you be my partner every night? When we’re together, it feels so right. Could I have this dance for the rest of my life?” While we were dancing, he was singing the words to me as if he had written them himself. Dipping me backward at the end of the song was just the icing on this handsome cake. I was smitten.
It was a Saturday night and on the following Tuesday, we got married. My family thought I had lost my mind, but what would your answer have been to this proposal? “If you think enough of a woman to want to sleep with her, you ought to think enough of her to want to marry her; and I want to marry you.” I accepted his proposal and we abstained until Tuesday. The following eight years of marriage were not without their challenges, but if two people agree on everything, one of them is not necessary.
Eight months after our eighth anniversary, as he lay dying on the settee in our living room, I felt those very same angels holding me close, as I watched him valiantly fight this evil disease that was taking away his strength. With his last few breaths, he thanked me for the dance as our waltz played softly in the background.
Months after his death, I had the film developed featuring gifts he had received while ill. Images of his withered body got captured within the frame. Cancer had reduced this once virile man to a mere shell. Mercifully, I had been unable to see the extreme physical change in the man who had waltzed into my life. Loving eyes are blinded by the heart.
I am still sober
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