Daily Reprieve

From Courage to Change of Oct 2:

It is essential to my recovery to help my Al-Anon group by accepting any of the various responsibilities necessary to keep things running smoothly. Perhaps the principal reason that service is so vital is that it brings me into frequent contact with newcomers. I can get caught up in the trivial problems of everyday life and lose perspective on the many gifts I have received since coming to Al-Anon. Talking with newcomers brings me back to reality. When I set out literature, make coffee, or chair a meeting, I become someone a newcomer might think to approach.

I remember the frustration of struggling with alcoholism by myself. I had no tools, no one to talk to. Al-Anon changed that. Now, no matter how difficult things may seem, I have a fellowship and a way of life that help me to cope. I am no longer alone.

Today I have much for which I am grateful, but I need to remember how far I have come so I don’t get lost in negativity over relatively unimportant matters. Service helps me remember.

Today’s Reminder

The Al-Anon program was there for me when I needed it. I will do what I can to ensure that it continues to thrive. I know that any service I offer will strengthen my own recovery.

“God did for me what I couldn’t do for myself. He got me involved in service work. It saved my life, my family, my sanity.” ~ In All Our Affairs

END OF QUOTE—————————————

Service redraws my inner map — not as decoration, but as survival. Petty grievances lure me into false terrain, a swamp of complaint and wounded righteousness. Service is not kindness. Service is compass. It is the act of cutting through fog to reclaim True North: gratitude honed into defensive weaponry.

The landmarks on this map are not marble idols or patriotic monuments. They are coffee pots, pamphlet stacks, folded chairs — ordinary altars, invisible to the untrained eye. To me, they are boundary stones, proof that I have walked out of chaos and into containment. They keep me from wandering back into the Lostness.

I place newcomers at the center, not myself — not out of sainthood, but survival. Their desperation is no burden of charity; it is my cure for forgetfulness. When I see their eyes, raw with the chaos I once carried, I remember the distance I have traveled. Their need sharpens my memory more than any sermon ever could.

This is not about saving them. It is about protecting me. Their struggle tethers me to the map. Without them, I drift. With them, I remember. That reciprocity is marrow, not politeness. It is the blood-law of Recovery: I keep what I have by giving it away.

Love’s alchemy works best in overlooked places because there, it cannot be stolen. Although my inner core is quiet, small obediences to the external reality redraw the map of my freedom. This alchemy is not divine charity; it is Social Containment: channeling my chaos into rituals too small to fail.

The framework is sharp and simple, but I carve it deeper:

• Service anchors gratitude.
• Gratitude strengthens Recovery.
• Recovery keeps me alive.

This is not philosophy. Not logic. It is lifeline. Blood-line. Service is not sideline — it is survival. To forget this is to court Enforced Stupidity.

I stretch the Tenth Step into service inventory: Am I still approachable? Still willing? Still giving what was once given to me?

This entry was posted on October 2, 2025 at 6:12 pm and is filed under Uncategorized with tags Addiction, Alcoholism, Courage to Change, Journal, Life, love, mental-health, Personal, Recovery, Spirituality, writing. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.