One Day at a Time

One day at a time sweet Jesus that's all I'm asking from you
Give me the strength to do everyday what I have to do
Yesterday's gone sweet Jesus and tomorrow may never be mine
So for my sake teach me to take one day at a time.

In twelve days I will have 2,000 days of sobriety.  I remember that first day.  Not a good day.  My friends who had helped Karla take care of me the night before had also cleaned out the house of all alcohol.  And there was a flurry of activity, calls to the bishop, consultation with my psychiatrist, arrangements made for inpatient treatment.  Then the long drive down to Kootenai Medical Center.  I took a deep breath.  "I guess I'll  not have a drink tonight."  Day one.

The staff in the psych ward mentioned that I was headed to the chemical dependency unit.  This was news to me.  I had consented to inpatient treatment because I was concerned about my depression and wanted to be treated for that.  Now it felt like a 'bait and switch' situation.  I was angry.  The rage I had been consumed with during my last night of drinking now had a new focus.  I called my psychiatrist and complained.  They were doing nothing about my depression.  I was being forced to play board games with the other patients.  And what about this whole chemical dependency thing.

"They have to sober you up before they can treat your depression, Dave."  To my way of thinking, I hadn't had a drink in over a day, now, by this time two days.  "I'm sober!"  "It takes longer than that." was the response. The next day I met with the doctor. "You are an alcoholic."  These were the words of my new psychiatrist.  Hard to take.  Day three.

Then my family came to visit.  And my dear Bishop Martin.  Somehow I managed to say the words for the first time.  "I am an alcoholic."  But I wanted out.  I'll attend a few AA meetings.  Maybe.  I can't stay here.  I have a job.  I have responsibilities.  The Bishop was ready to leave.  "I'll let you be alone with your family, you've decisions to make."  I wanted his advice, which initially he was hesitant to offer.  "Dave, you've come so far, don't turn back now."  Day four.  I think.

I told the Bishop that First Lutheran was now his responsibility.  He accepted.  The psych ward staff recorded a 180 degree turn around in my attitude.  There was hope.  A transfer to the chem dep unit.  Day five.  

I would spend 21 days in the Chemical Dependency Unit.  Twenty six days of sobriety seemed like forever.  There was a big change.  I was committed to returning home and not having a drink.  There were things I would have to do though.

It was hard.  When I returned home I was ready to jump right back into my responsibilities at the Church.  "I'm back!"  My council president and vice-president said "No."  They demanded I take more time.  Another month off.  

During that time there was a negotiation about accommodations.  I would no longer set up communion or buy the wine.  I requested that only grape juice be on the altar, and that I not have to handle the wine, at all.  Numerous bottles of wine were stored at church, I asked that they be locked up to remove the temptation.  My psychiatrist wrote a letter to the bishop.  In the end, the arrangements for these accommodations were made.  

I had gone into the hospital on October 15th.  Following the congregation's annual meeting in January I reentered the psych ward for another week.  Turns out alcoholism wasn't the only problem, and sobriety alone was not the cure.  Two years on disability followed.  When I attended church, I would have seizures, partial complex seizures.  By Easter I resigned my call.  And decided to spend a whole lot of money on woodworking equipment.  Olson's WoodWorks was born again.  This was my last manic episode, prior to the diagnosis of Bipolar Disorder.

So, I'm approaching 2,000 days now.  Life has changed.

I'm serving a congregation again.  A small church.  A part time call.  And I work at a cabinet shop in Hayden.  We're getting by.  There have been financial challenges, but every bill has been paid.  

The biggest issue remains the vocational question.  Part of me, now sober, wants some new great challenge so that I can finish off my career with a bang.  I'm far more qualified now that I'm clean and sober than I ever was before.  And yet.  And yet.  There's something to be said for self care.

I'm coming to a resolution.  If my congregation is willing, I have resolved that the best option for me is to commit to serving where I am at, and being at peace, at Peace.  Part of that resolution is to to think just 'one day at a time'.  It's hard to imagine ten years of leaving for work at 4:45 am and sometimes not returning home until nearly 10 pm.  But on a given day, I can do that.  One day.  That's all I'm asking from you, sweet Jesus.  One day.

I realize that grand aspirations regarding the rest of my career may not be realistic.  Just be a faithful pastor today.  Do your best cabinet work, today.  Let tomorrow take care of itself.  

And then there is retirement to plan for.  Some of the pressure I've been feeling has been alleviated somewhat by the realization that next year we can begin moving into retirement.  The first step may be Karla receiving her Social Security benefits.  It will also be an option for me to start receiving my pension, even if I wait till seventy to go on Social Security.  With some additional income, we'll be fine.

But there is a catch.  An asterisk marking it.  All these plans are subject to review by a qualified professional.  For some reason Karla is not comfortable with my making grand plans anymore.  It's a problem for one who is bipolar.  So we'll check with a financial planner.  We'll be careful.  

Day 2,000 is coming.  And after that, maybe 10,000 more.  God willing.