Holiday Cheer
I walk past the aisle of festively packaged liquor every
year in December. The bottles don’t tempt me, but I acknowledge that my
response is markedly different than most. I’m protective of my sobriety. I feel
righteously offended. In no way do I have resentment toward normal drinkers who
can take part in the cheer, but I
have to process my thoughts, intents, and actions. For me it’s as though
someone has bottled up rat poison and made it look beautiful for the holidays. Though the bottles are lovely to look at, and
I sometimes feel left out of “the cheer,” I realize that it’s a life or death decision
for me to look the other way. I stare at my cart and move on, feeling an odd
mixture of fear, disdain, peace, and gratitude.
HE took my place. It’s as though HE became a hopeless drunk
in my stead. He became my shame. He took
every bit of the sick, crazy addiction on HIMself. HE never once faltered in
His decision to take the rap for me.
Now that’s the cheer of the season. That’s where true holiday
joy and peace originate; A King came to
earth and bought me. It was HE who paid for me and fully redeemed my life.
