It was a strange morning. Actually, just a strange jumble of thoughts. I was walking, musing, picking up cans. I don’t know what started the train of thought for sure. Maybe it was the neighborhood. Maybe it was the cans. In any case, my thoughts took an unusual turn–not particularly pleasant–but healthy, I think.
My thoughts started with thinking about the rejected of our community. Many people are used to having people look right through them, as if they didn’t exist; or move to the side to avoid them, as if they were dangerous; or avoid contact or conversation, as if they were infectious. It’s tough being different. I know those feelings. I was the bastard son of one of those girls. My parents owned the local tavern and we were from the wrong side of the tracks. Fortunately for me, my adoptive parents loved me deeply and provided me a safe environment (though I didn’t always think so) in which to hide.
Maybe it was the cans that caused the next turn in my thinking. For some reason there were lots of beer cans this morning. Usually it’s a mix of soda, beer and coffee. This morning it was beer, beer and more beer. The next thing I know I was remembering dark moments from my childhood when the results of alcohol in our home wreaked their havoc. I remembered the last drink I took (I should say, I was never heavily into alcohol because of what it did to my parents). I was a senior–yes, that means I was already a Christian (not something I’m proud of). I stole some beer for the two guys I worked with and myself. After we combined the final field in those Idaho mountains, we celebrated. One of the guys did most of the drinking and he chose to bring the combine down the mountain. Bad choice. He rammed it into an embankment (better than going over the other edge, I suppose) causing $1000s of damage.
I never drank again. Today, I believe I did it that day to fit in, to be wanted, to be one of the guys. I know now they merely used me to get the beer. I’ve thought often about my choice. I’ve never regretted making the decision to abstain, totally. I never have to worry about becoming an alchoholic, I never have to worry about getting a DUI, I never have to fret causing someone else’s death because I was driving drunk, I never have to be concerned that I might have influenced another to take a drink with me. Some decisions just make sense…and that one does.
By the time I was home (47 cans later), I had reminisced some of my worst moments…and some of my best. And I’d found refreshment not only from the walk, but from the memories. I’m blessed…incredibly blessed. I have a wonderful wife and family. I serve a wonderful church. I’ve been given a new life by a wonderful God. What more could anyone ask for?
