There are times when I am asked to participate on a panel of Alanon members in a recovery house. Typically there are a couple dozen alcoholics and addicts in the early stages of recovery staying at the house and family members are invited to visit and show their support an evening or two each week. It is during one of these evenings that Al-Anon members are often invited to share our experience, strength, and hope.

The recovery house facilitator will often say something like "let's go around the room, give us your first name, and tell us who you are here for." One by one you see parents, husbands, wives, grandparents, and friends. "I'm here for my wife Suzie." "I'm here for my son Bob." "I'm here to support my granddaughter Debbie." And so it goes.

Sometimes when I speak I start by asking what the difference is between us who are not alcoholics and those who are. The answer for me, though fairly simple, sums up much of what I am learning in my program. "The alcoholics know they are sick and have in most cases begun working their recovery program."

When I first came to Al-Anon I wasn't happy to be there. "Why should I have to work a program? She's the one who is sick! If only she would quit drinking and get her life together mine would follow suit." Of course that understanding is incorrect.

About two months after I started attending Al-Anon meetings I went to one on a Sunday night in a town not far away. There were probably 8 or 10 people there. It was an upscale neighborhood where the meeting was held, and most of the people there blended in with the neighborhood well. But once we got started another gentleman walked in and sat down next to me.

This poor guy was shaking and talking a mile a minute. He wasn't dressed too well and he kind of needed a shower. He was a big guy - you know tattoos and lots of muscles. He was going through withdrawal in a bad way from whatever chemical afflicted him. He wasn't the kind of guy you would accuse of being dainty or mentally stable.

After a while he spoke. "Hi, I'm Jim. I have Al-Anon's Disease." What is this? I wondered... he was an addict or alcoholic pure and simple.

He told how a very close friend of his put a gun in his mouth and committed suicide less than a year earlier. His friend was an alcoholic who just couldn't get his arms around recovery. He became depressed and ended his struggle. This guy came to the Al-Anon meeting trying to cope with the loss of his alcoholic friend.

He said, "I have Al-Anon's Disease. I come to these meetings for an inoculation." He went on to explain that with other diseases he has he must go to the doctor periodically for treatment if he is to get better. He said the same is true with Al-Anon's Disease; if you want to heal you need regular inoculations.

At that moment a light went on for me. I was the one with the disease that needed treating! I needed to be in those meetings for ME, not for my alcoholic. I was sick and if I didn't get the medicine I needed I would surely continue my own downward plunge!

The steps were for me. The program was for me. For the first time in my recovery that night I got it. I had Al-Anon's Disease.

As the meeting concluded I had to thank this man for his brilliant insight. I was a little intimidated by his stature and demeanor as I tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention.

"What's your story dude?" he asked. I began telling him about my wife and her problems. I was still focusing on her and her recovery. I thanked him for what he said, and told him I was beginning to see that I had a problem.

"Dude," he said, "You're sicker than me!" And for the first time I could see clearly that I was sicker than the addict or alcoholic. I really needed to dig into my own program and stop worrying about my qualifier.

Today I look at those who have their alcoholism and addiction as no better or worse individuals than me. I admire their fighting spirit when they embrace their program, and I hurt for them when they fall or suffer relapse.

You see, I suffer with the same affliction as they do: fear and obsession. They obsess about alcohol or their drug of choice. I obsess about them. With this knowledge I can go to the clinic with them and get my inoculation.

God, I have no control over my life and it is completely unmanageable without You. My friends fighting alcoholism have also lost control in their lives. All of us need You, and Your Power, to get us through. Please keep me free from judging others and focused on finding Your will for my life. Amen.

Alcoholics Anonymous has a slogan that says "Don't quit five minutes before the miracle happens." I heard a speaker one time that said "the miracles are already happening in our lives, don't leave five minutes before you see them."

One of the character defects I have that I have given to my Higher Power in Step 7 is that I question everything with great skepticism. You bring me a miracle and I can explain it away quickly and without too much thought. I've been this way for a long time. It may have been part of the coping skills I developed living with an active alcoholic - or more likely it could be something I've carried from my childhood.

The religion I was raised in taught that the day for miracles has passed. The unexplained and supernatural were ok a long time ago, but today they just don't happen. If you have a vision or something supernatural happens in your life I was taught to look at last night's diet or a lack of sleep as reasons for the misunderstanding. If someone else brought a report of the supernatural it was dismissed as improbable, and the miracles fell by the way. Coincidence, probabilities, happenstance, and luck of the draw were the explanation, not miracles.

So trying to be aware of God's hand in my recovery has been a challenge for me. I really would like to quiet my doubts and strengthen my faith by living in or through a miracle. But of course faith itself is a belief in things for which there is no proof.

In my 12 step program there is the phrase "came to believe". It helps me to remember that belief and interaction with a Higher Power is a journey, not a destination. And like other aspects of my program progress is not always along a steady uphill line. Sometimes doubts and slips happen. At those times it is enough to get up and walk on.

As I write this it has been one month since my wife died. Yesterday as I sat at her graveside I hurt and cried. I talked to her and prayed to God. It was a sunny day and her grave stone was warm. I have become more and more aware of God's presence in my life. And I have begun to understand step 11 a little more. It is noteworthy that it doesn't tell us to ask God to show himself or do more for us. It says to pray to know His will for our lives, and the power to carry that out.

I didn't leave five minutes before the miracle. For the first time in my life God is removing, little by little, my character defect of disbelief. I am learning to embrace quiet simple happy coincidences as my own personal miracles.

I am an artist in my hobby. I paint landscapes for the most part. In the weeks leading up to my wife's death I worked on a sunset in an oil painting. I didn't like the way it turned out very much. Actually, I didn't like it at all. But when my wife saw it she really liked it. It is a silhouette scene where the sun has slipped behind the horizon but left its rays of hope streaming up into the night sky.

Oil paintings take a month or so to dry so several weeks before my wife's death I put it away and moved on to other things. But before I set it aside my wife asked me what I was going to name it. I told her the spot where I took the reference photo while boating on the lake was called "State Rock" so that seemed like a good name. "No, that's no good", she said. So I rambled through some other names one after the other. Suddenly she stopped me after I'd said the word "Benediction." "That's it", she said, "Benediction." And so it was named.

Two days after my wife died a friend was in my home consoling me on my loss. He asked what I'd been working on lately with my painting. I jumped up and headed to the garage to get the painting to show him. But I had to sit down again, overwhelmed realizing how God had taken a mediocre piece of art work and transformed it into a painting I will cherish forever: "Benediction."

There have been a dozen other miracles for me that have already happened. I am just now beginning to see them. I will tell more about them in my story because I never want to explain away these coincidences as anything less than my own little epiphanies.

God, I believe; help thou my unbelief. Thank you.

In the writings of my first blog I worked through the persistent question of why I stayed in a marriage with alcoholism. When my wife died that decision was sealed, and it was good.

Now people I know outside of Al-Anon can't understand why I am still a member of the group since I no longer live with alcoholism. It doesn't make sense to them that I still attend so many meetings and always look forward to my next one.

In the newcomer's welcome in our program there is a line that reads something like this: "you may feel you are here for the alcoholic. Actually you are here because of the alcoholic - you are here for yourself." The point is that I have a disease that, if untreated, will cause insanity, and even death. My disease didn't end with my qualifier's death.

I call my disease "Al-Anon's Disease." I got it by loving an alcoholic. It took years for my disease to get its grip and do its damage. Left untreated it would sadly progress toward my demise. Without a program, family, and Higher Power to give me regular inoculations I would loose my serenity and fall apart. My very life is at stake.

Some, even in my program, have suggested that I am continuing to go to meetings so I can somehow give back some of what I have received. For me this simply just isn't the case. I go to meetings for me; so I can heal. I go to get, not to give.

I share, take service commitments, set up chairs, unlock the door, greet newcomers, and lead meetings to get, not to give. Sometimes I am asked to speak in a speaker's meeting or on a panel in a recovery house as part of my 12 step program. I do this when I can because I have found great healing properties in telling about my journey, as sad as it has been.

Among my disease's symptoms are chronic loneliness and isolation. The disease of alcoholism renders those affected by it less and less capable of sustaining any kind of an intimate relationship. When the alcoholic makes an attempt to reach out it often fails when the bottle sits between them and their partner. When the Alanon reaches out, anger and resentment ride with the action to communicate anything but love.

Over time a thing called isolation interferes with even shallow passing friendships we might otherwise have, and we begin to face the world on our own. The damned disease will separate you from the herd, run you until you're tired, and then finish you off with loneliness. That is, if you let it.

The best medicine for these symptoms is a healthy dose of unconditional love. But the Alanon cannot get this antidote from the alcoholic. And outside of a good program we can't get it from ourselves. What's worse, we quit allowing our Higher Power to love is a long time ago. Then we find in the Alanon room the ingredient we need to stay alive: unconditional love.

That's why I stay. I need honest love. I need to be with people who laugh with me and hurt with me without judgment. I need people I can say anything to who won't turn away. I need the quiet hugs that recharge my battery. And I need to sense a direct, close, and real connection with my Higher Power. These things keep my Al-Anon's Disease at bay. These things let me hold hands with real serenity.

I am a grateful lifetime member of Al-Anon.

When my oldest grandson was about 3 years old he came with his mother to live in our home for a couple of years. His parents were going through a divorce and for a while I became the main male figure in his life. What a privilege that was for me. Today he and I have a special bond that will survive time I'm sure.

When my own two children were little I wasn't as attentive and careful with them as I was with my grandson. Age seems to make us better parents. But with my grandson I had a blast winding him up and watching him go.

On one occasion we took him to Disneyland, or one of the big Amusement parks, I am not sure which one. My grandson was very curious - and he had no fear. If I would have let him he would have wandered off and gotten lost in an instant.

So, not knowing a lot about proper parenting for a 3 year old, and being in charge of one in a very distracting situation, I formed a simple plan: all I had to do was hang on to him. I placed his tiny wrist into my big hand and held tight. No matter what the situation all I had to remember was hold on - and with that I knew he would be safe and we would have a most enjoyable day.

At first this seemed good to him. He would go easily wherever grandpa wanted to go. Everywhere we went he was captivated by the excitement and noise. But anyone who has spent time with a 3 year old knows that after an hour or so there were moments where my grandson would loose site of the grand scheme of things and try to wiggle out of my grip and set out on an adventure of his own, not needing grandpa's firm grip.

But grandpa knew better. I just held on. If he squirmed I tightened my grip. At times my grandson required all of my attention and energy - but I had the strength and determination - and love - that would keep him from harm regardless of what distractions and dangers came his way.

When my grandson grew tired or knew better than grandpa where he needed to go he would try to break free from my grip so he could dart off. There were moments during the day when he would cry and throw a little tantrum kicking me in the shins and yelling at me to let go. But I held tight. Sometimes he’d make a fist in defiance, but I found it just gave me a knot at the end of the rope to hold more firmly.

At one point my grandson stomped his little foot and said "I'm going this way grandpa!” In my determination to keep him safe I looked down at him and reasoned "you're what, maybe 30 pounds? I'm 200 pounds. Do the math! You're not going anywhere without me."

At the end of the day my grandson was safe. And he'd had a great day. Instead of pulling away he asked me to carry him because his little feet were so tired. Holding him in my arms that night gave me a great sense of satisfaction.

When my wife died a month ago I began going through times that have challenged my faith. Sometimes I have doubts; sometimes it feels like I've lost my faith. I'm terribly distracted by all of the “what if's” and in worrying about the future. I sit by my wife's grave crying, sometimes angrily challenging God Almighty for taking me a way I don't want to go. I have even yelled at Him, "Let me go, I'm going this way!"

But somehow I have heard His calm, soothing voice say: "Do the math! We are going to go through this My way."

My program has taught me it is ok to falter in my faith - and at times to have no faith at all. In those times I only need to act like I believe. Faith will follow later. But in those dark valleys of the soul it is most comforting to hold up my arm to the sky and hear Him say to me "Do the math!"

Three weeks after I completed my first year in Al-Anon my wife died. She had been struggling with health problems related to alcoholism. She was unable to achieve sobriety for any length of time. Nevertheless, during her final 18 months she continued to work and function as best she could when she wasn't in the hospital. The day before she died she went to work. That evening we sat and talked for a while before she retired.

She was what they call my "qualifier" in Al-Anon. She qualified me to be a member in the 12 step program for family and friends of alcoholics. And she was my best friend, my wife of 37 years, my love, and my partner. She was the mother of my children and the grandmother of my grandchildren. I loved her dearly.

She took her first sip of alcohol about 15 years ago. Both she and I came from strict religious teetotaling backgrounds which sang the perils of alcohol. But, we reasoned, even the Bible says to drink a little wine for your stomach's sake. Little did we know how quickly it can turn your world upside-down.

She never drank anything but wine. And during the first 10 years or so it really didn't seem to be a problem. I only noticed that slowly, over time, the amount of alcohol being consumed in our home was increasing.

I'm what the folks in the other program (AA) call a "Normy" (as opposed to an "Alky"). I can drink a little beer or wine and it doesn't do that much for me. My body works in such a way that if I have more than a couple of drinks I don't feel good. And my mind tells me if something hurts when I do it, stop doing it. Life is just not the same for an Alky.

About 5 years ago my wife was struggling with holding it all together. At the time we were both in denial, and we had become firmly entrenched in isolation. Somehow I knew I was loosing her, but I just figured she'd get to a point someday where we'd have to deal with it and then it would all go away. We kept loosing a little bit more each day.

In looking back it seems really odd to me today that I didn't relate the other problems we were facing in our relationship to the damned disease. Over the years our marriage changed drastically. Little by little our playfulness and intimacy fell by the way. Our evenings together seem to get shorter and shorter as she would retire earlier and sleep more. We lost "touch" in our marriage. At first she'd sleep on the couch in front of the TV. Over time we took separate bedrooms. The romantic passion in our marriage died many years before my wife. In all of this I tried to grow up and accept these changes in maturity, thinking this was a normal course (all the while feeling the victim in my heart, knowing that there are others who do not deal with this in their marriage).

There is an old urban legend that says if you place a frog in boiling water it will immediately jump out, but if you put it in cool water and slowly bring it to a boil the frog will not jump, but will die. Though the legend itself is false, the message it carries has a lesson in it. The temperature of our marriage changed so slowly over time that neither of us jumped. We just sat there and boiled until it was too late. The family disease of alcoholism is cunning and baffling, insidious and determined. It will slowly encompass all that is good, taking life's pleasures away little by little until one of three things happens. We go insane, we die, or we recover. The choice is up to our Higher Power. But if our Higher Power chooses recovery for us He grabs our hand and holds on tightly. All we must do is hold out our hand.

About 18 months before she died my wife was diagnosed with chronic pancreatitus and other serious health problems. I tried so desperately to grab her hand and yell at her to "jump" before the disease killed her. But I couldn't save her. I joined Al-Anon a year and 3 weeks before she died. I learned I didn't cause it, I can't control it and I can't cure it. I had to Let Go and Let God, surrendering my wife and our marriage to the care of our Higher Power. About 2 months before she died I finally got it. My God is omnipotent. That means He has all power. He alone has the power to heal me. He alone has the power to heal my wife. And it is entirely up to Him to decide exactly when and how He will heal us. For me He gave me Al-Anon and a solid 12 step program. But AA and their 12 step program didn't heal my wife. She just couldn't get her arms around it. So God in His time and will healed my wife by taking her home.

Am I accepting this loss gracefully? Absolutely not. I am broken, empty, lost and alone. I have had every emotion possible in the span of about 5 minutes - then it repeats. I have been angry at her, angry at God, and angry with myself for loosing her. I have second guessed my program, challenged God's wisdom, and even yelled at my wife for letting it end this way. Thankfully I am finding that God isn't afraid of my honesty. He seems to survive my questions, my frustration, and my anger. And He persists with a quiet nudge for me into serenity. At this point I don't have to believe without doubts. I just have to act like I believe. If I do that He will get me through.

There are very few things I know with any certainty right now. But I do know that two well placed safety nets are saving my life one hour at a time. One of them is in my friends. And the other is with my God. One of the Al-Anon readings comes from an anonymous author and it prays for me: "I am seeking to know You better, to love You more. I am seeking the knowledge of Your will for me and the power to carry that out." Amen.