Greg

I had gotten myself into a destructive pattern of drinking as my only form of amusement. My apathy for anything else could only be described as intense and profound. Intense, abject apathy commanded isolation. Boredom commanded more alcohol and, ultimately, a trip to the ER. From the ER I was admitted at the hospital for alcohol-induced heart palpitations and spent several days in a medically supervised detox when one of the attending physicians and behavioral health clinicians introduced me to the notion of The Bridge. At that point my decision was no more complex than, “Eh, why not?”

When I got to The Bridge I didn’t care one way or the other. I could have left at any time, or I could have stayed. Neither decision was appealing and neither decision was objectionable. I hated being a drunk. I loved getting drunk but not being drunk and certainly not being “a drunk.” I was aware of it, and I knew I could stop it. “Who needs a higher power?” I was uninspired, however, to make that commitment with any real passion. No previous attempts at recovery meant anything to me, and I never made any promises to myself or anyone else that I was done drinking.

I had fond memories of my walk with God as a younger man and was open-hearted enough to listen again to the familiar words and accept the genuine care of The Bridge personnel as well as the long-abandoned elements of discipline required for a conscientious walk with the Lord. For the first time in years, I started setting little goals for myself. This was happening simultaneously with my brain and body chemistry recovering from their assault when I recalled my favorite verse from back in my early 20s. Revelation 3:20 “Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with that person, and they with me.” I began to pray again, earnestly, thoughtfully, and daily for the Lord to come back into my life. I joke that He let me twist in the breeze for a few weeks before bringing me on board, but the truth is that though I spoke the words, my heart wasn’t ready. But then something happened. I knew it the second it occurred. I’d been brought back on board and my first prayer was my personal expression of gratitude to The Bridge and the men and women who had saved my life by bringing me back to God.

While at The Bridge I worked primarily in the kitchen preparing meals for residents, Sunday morning restaurant service, and occasionally special events at the church. I learned to soften my proclivities toward impatience and dismissiveness. I learned to accept imperfection in myself and embrace the contributions of others. I learned forgiveness and recognized that I have been the recipient of forgiveness more than I ever cared to acknowledge.