Dry and on Fire

I took what I hope is to be my last drink on the fifth anniversary of my young wife’s death, in the early morning hours of December 10, 1988. That last drink, from a pitcher of beer that didn’t even belong to me, was immediately followed by my third drunk-driving arrest. Later that same morning, after my release from jail, I was to experience the beginning of a spiritual release of far greater importance. I knew my life was spiraling out of control and I felt absolutely helpless to stop it.