As part of that whole do it right thing, I reported to my parole officer within 24 hours of my release, as instructed, and jumped through every hoop he placed in front of me, even the ones that seemed to be on fire. One such burning hoop was recovery meetings a few times a week that I absolutely did not need. All you had to do was ask me, and I could tell you. I didn't need them. About eight days after I sat in a room full of drunks and dope heads, crossed my arms and declared to them all that I was not an alcoholic and graced them with my presence only because of parole, which would be over in six months causing my disappearance from said group, I sat on my front porch in broad daylight drinking Bacardi straight from the bottle. I had a moment of clarity and called myself several names, none of which are synonyms for wise one. I hadn't even bothered to pour the rum into a glass with a little soda and make it look like tea. Had my parole officer driven by, a distinct possibility considering I'd barely been out a week, I could have been on my way back to a cage.
All I had to do was stay clean and sober for six months and I was home free. Then I could party. Just leave it alone for six months, but I couldn't, I began to consider getting honest enough to admit I hadn't had control in a long time. Perhaps I needed that room and the program after all. But not much hurts more than rejection, so if they were going to hate me, reject me and cast me aside, I would rather it be sooner than later. I flaunted what made me an outcast in East Texas. I sat in a meeting and threw out what society and the state said was the worst thing about me. They didn't run away or to gather stones. They praised me for my honesty and courage. But I wasn't brave. I just wanted to get it over with so I wouldn't have to sit with the fear of everyone finding out hanging over my head like a guillotine blade.
For the next few months my life became a relapse rumba. I would determine to stay clean. Grit my teeth and white knuckle it for about two weeks and then go out and drunk and or high.
Over the first six months or so of my recovery process I went through three sponsors. The first laid a foundation that I continue to be grateful for before he had to take a job out of state. The second lasted about two weeks and was called temporary from the start. The third took me through the steps and listened to my fifth step for hours. I will always be grateful. With their help I did what I needed to do to allow God to do the work that gave me freedom from the obsession to drink and drug for the first time since I was 13. I was 38. But through all that time, Dixie and I became best friends and spent hours hanging out and talking. She knew more about me than anyone at that time, including the person who listened to my fifth. When I needed to replace sponsor number three, I asked her. Graciously she accepted, and my life became enriched and blessed beyond what I imagined.
Dixie was far from perfect. She had wisdom that helped me more than I could say, but had trouble seeing it and applying in to her own life at times. Within a few years, I still called her my sponsor and leaned on her, but she claimed our roles had been reversed. I don't think so. It wasn't that I was her sponsor. I wasn't. We were just equally friends who knew a lot about each other and cared about each other and listened and then gave suggestions that usually helped.
Dixie was one of those special people who could truly be open minded and caring enough to set her feelings aside and be honest about what was best for others. Few people I know have been as hurt by the organized church as her, and yet as she saw my relationship with God grow, she told me one day that I had a gift that I needed to quit running from. She said she had never met anyone who should be a minister more than me and that I had too much to offer in the way of help to others to still be shirking that calling. I broke down in tears and told her the story of how as a teen I had been told by a minister's wife that I was "ordained" to minister and how I had looked her in the eye, said no, and fled the sanctuary to go behind the church and get high. She looked at me and said, don't you think it's time you quit running from what God wants you to do? That night I began praying and stopped running. A couple of years later I began preaching, and now I am a full-time minister. Anyone who has been helped or blessed by Unshackled Life Ministries has also been blessed by Mama Dixie.
She got friends to take her out of the hospital for a few hours after knee surgery so that she could present me with my chip for my one-year recovery anniversary. She surprised me that night both with her presence and by telling everyone there that she had been too scared for two weeks to say hi to me because I was the angriest person that she had ever seen. She hugged me and let me cry a minute before telling me to stop feeling sorry for myself and do the work after my relapse three months later. She took me back through the steps, refusing to let me skimp in the areas where the foundation had been weak the first time. She advised and encouraged me as I began courting Leah, and after Leah and I were married, she became as special a friend to Leah as she was to me. In recovery, relationships, and every other aspect of life, she quickly and and consistently reminded me to seek God and to put God's will first, before my fears, before my desires and before any and every other relationship.
I recently celebrated eight years clean and sober. I am looking forward to my eighth anniversary with Leah. I have been ministering for five years now. My life is blessed and full and worth living, and the recovery, ministry and marriage I love and that bring me such joy would not be what it is without Dixie's wisdom, care and influence. No one who doesn't go to church has ever had as much positive impact on my walk with God as Dixie did, and few who do attend, including ministers, have either.
Last week we lost her after an accident. My heart continues to ache, but at the same time I am grateful. I love you Dixie, and while I missed you terribly while you were gone, I am so grateful that you were able to travel the country and enjoy your relationship and retirement as you wanted. I am so thankful for all that you have done for me and for Leah, and I am proud to be a small part of your amazing legacy of love and service.
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