Intervention (Part 2)

Ok, enough of the morbid depressing stuff. (Writing about it is almost as painful as living through it. Reading it must be no fun either) Let’s just say that things quickly went from bad to worse. Let’s just say that my life had become unmanageable, and that I found myself powerless. (Admitting this is the first step in the Alcoholic’s Anonymous’ 12 steps to recovery plan)

Lynetta knew that I had lost the power to help myself. She also knew that she could not help me alone. So she, through a series of events that were nothing short of miraculous, (I will get her to tell that story later) enlisted the help of many caring people.

One Wednesday evening she returned from church to find me sitting alone in the dark. She didn’t say much, she just turned on the lights and started to pick up and straighten up the house like she was expecting company. This did not strike me as odd, because she is constantly cleaning, and picking stuff up, and acting as if she is expecting company.

About five minutes later the doorbell rang and in walked Russ, our church minister, and 6 of the 8 church elders. I was busted. Lynetta had ratted me out.

They didn’t ask many questions. They simply said that they knew that I was struggling with life right now and asked if they could pray for me. I didn’t have the heart to tell them no. I didn’t have the strength to tell them that I had already tried that prayer thing and it didn’t work. Besides, God only helps the good people – the ones who deserve help. I deserved a lot of things – but help wasn’t one of them..

I never got off the couch. They gathered in all around me – close enough to put their hands on my shoulders. They prayed simply and quietly. They asked God to help me, and to heal me. Then they thanked him.

Simple - nothing miraculous – no bright lights - no angelic choirs singing – no Holy water being thrown – no demons screaming and flying from the room in fear - nothing at all to write home about, but that 2 minute prayer reduced me to a broken ball of sobbing mush.

Looking back now I can see that the only thing that really changed that night was my willingness to ask for and accept help. That was, in and of itself, a true miracle.