Endigar 1061
From Courage to Change of Oct 12:
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
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Service becomes a form of remembrance. The act of setting out pamphlets or making coffee isn’t about performance or obligation — it’s about reconnecting to the moment when grace first entered the room. When you help a newcomer find a seat or a sense of belonging, you touch the same mystery that once reached out to save you. In that moment, gratitude stops being a concept and becomes a lived current of energy, flowing through the simple act of presence.
“Frequent contact with newcomers” is not merely social; it’s alchemical. Recovery, like fire, is kept alive by shared warmth. Each encounter reminds the seasoned member of what it was like, what happened, and what it’s like now. The newcomer’s raw confusion and fragile hope become a mirror — revealing both how far one has come and how easily the old pain could return. In this way, service is bothsafeguardand sacrament — it prevents stagnation and invites humility.
Everyday life, with its trivial irritations and looping anxieties, tempts the recovering soul to forget the miracle of transformation. But service duties — however small — restore proportion. They say: You once were drowning, and now you pour coffee for the shipwrecked. This remembrance reorders the scale of what matters. Through action, we find that serenity doesn’t come from control, but from participation in something larger than ourselves.
To serve is to renew the original covenant of Al-Anon: We do not recover alone. The program that saved us asks for guardianship, not repayment. Each service act plants continuity — ensuring that the next lost traveler will find light and warmth waiting. In giving away what we have found, we discover again that we are not powerless — we are purposeful.
Daily Reprieve 
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