We spent the weekend at Meadowgrass, a new bluegrass festival in Black Forest, Colorado. The mandolin and the bass lulled me into a dreamy state. And just as quickly, the pouring rain drove me into the cafeteria to eat nachos and processed cheese. Yikes. But, as I sat in the pouring rain, I noticed lots of people heading to the beer tent. Dark and light beers walked by me left and right. And I said to Andy, after fifteen years of sobriety, "Wow, those beers sure look good." Let me remind you, it was fifty degrees out. It wasn't like it was a sweltering hot day. Then, I could maybe see why those beers might look enticing. Then, Andy asked, "Is it the beer that looks good?" Hmmm, good question, Andy. The answer, No, it is not the beer that looks good. It never was about the taste of the beer for me. It was about what the beer did to me. It numbed my feelings; numbed me cold. A friend of mine at the concert reminisced about her college days and said, "Sometimes, when I drank, I would get alcohol poisoning and throw up." Ummmm, was that alcohol poisoning? That happened to me eight times out of ten. Seriously. And I won't name the other bodily issues I had as a result of being alcoholic and out of control.

So, when I wanted the beer on Saturday, it wasn't the beer I wanted. I didn't want to feel what I was feeling. Sometimes it is so dang hard to stay with my feelings. That particular afternoon, I was feeling vulnerable. I felt really opened up after I had shared honestly with a group of people what I was feeling. I was judging myself, for making that choice, and having difficulty with feeling awkward.

Thankfully, I now have the tool of prayer, that I didn't have when I was nineteen. So, I prayed and whenever I feel in danger with alcohol and I pray, I don't drink. God fills me up way more than a beer ever could. And it is with that filling up, that I experience the love that I am looking for. God doesn't take my feelings away. God is not a drug, though I have treated God like that many o' time. But as I sat in that fold-up green and white striped picnic chair, feeling like a big loser quite honestly, I didn't have to sit there alone. I didn't have to put on an act. I just closed my eyes and breathed in love. And eventually, after many breaths, I stood up and I danced. And my lungs filled up with gratitude. My eyes followed the pine trees, from their roots, straight up to the heavens. Amazing, how we can reach to heaven and not skip our humanity. Right through the thick of staying sober, sitting in the middle of a meadow in the Black Forest, God meets me. It seems like a lot of work to stay close to God. But it's not. The drinking was a lot of work. Running far, far away from myself was so terribly painful. Praying to God, asking for help, that's not work. It keeps me grateful.