The May 18 reading in Karen Casey’s classic meditation book Each Day a New Beginning includes this line, “We are offered, moment by moment, opportunities to experience the rapture of life.”

Rapture? Ecstasy? Delight? Joy?

But this rapture does not always equal pleasure. The “rapture of life” promised to us in recovery is the ineffable glory of being alive. The “rapture of life” is the intense experience of living life awake, alert, and head-on.

This has been a difficult couple of weeks. I’ve had some health issues to deal with. My best friend fell, broke her ankle, and had to be pinned-and-plated back together. Another friend has a grandchild who is grievously ill. Another couldn’t find affordable housing locally and has had to move out of town. Oh, and then there’s the state of the world, the state of the nation, and the bewildering climate.

“We are offered, moment by moment, opportunities to experience the rapture of life.”

The promise of sobriety, the promise of living life in the fellowship of AA, using the Twelve Steps as a guide for personal behavior, is the promise of not only enduring the difficult times, but of finding the joy in those times. We are promised the ability to live life moment-by-moment. We are taught how to bring ourselves away from the shame of the past or fear of the future by focusing on right here, right now, this breath, this blink, this chiming of the clock. This is joy. This is rapture: being present for our own lives.

Every moment of our lives is an opportunity to be grateful. That is hard to believe in the midst of pain, loss, fear, and frustration. It can seem callous, numb, and unrealistic to say that. But grace is found in the wee pockets of time, in the fleeting thoughts of  “I need to call my friend” or the silent presence of the mourner with the bereaved. It’s in helping make new pillow shams for the apartment that’s too far away.

Yesterday morning I was taking my Golden Retriever BridgetAdams for a walk. She smiles at every single neighbor and each neighbor smiles back. Some give her pats and belly rubs and some even give her biscuits. She is equally glad to see them all. The shining sun makes her fur glitter and sparkle. I am glad to be alive now, right here, walking the dog.

And then we come to a little field and there is a bluebird, hopping on the ground, grubbing for breakfast. It’s years since I’ve been this close to a bluebird. The little bird looks up at me and then at Bridgie, acknowledges our presence with a little nod, and calmly takes off and flies to a nearby tree. I am grateful to be alive now, right here, nodding back at that beautiful bird.

“The opposite of addiction is not abstinence: the opposite of addiction is community.”

I’m not sure where I first heard that statement, but I believe it’s true. I’m not relying on my own strength alone to endure or enjoy a day. I can reach out. I am sober. I am alert. I can make choices. I can pick up the phone or walk the dog.

These beliefs, this “alone-no-more” and this “moment-by-moment rapture of life” bring with them some obligations. The Fellowship and Program of AA made the principles I had wanted to live by possible for me to live by. Because I was able to admit my own weakness and neediness, I was able to reach out and find the hand of AA there for me. That sure support gave me the courage to let go of the crutch I had been using—alcohol—and stand up. I am able to open my eyes and look around and experience the tiny, beautiful details of the present moment. My strength regained and increased; I can reach out. I can be present with those who are sick and suffering. I can look people in the eye, and I can promise, “You are not alone.”

And I can witness others as they live life one day at a time, one rapturous moment at a time.

-Christine H.