Some encouragement for those recovering

SUE CLARK

Thinking back over the holidays, sometimes the sweetest gifts aren’t

the kind you wrap up and tie with a ribbon.

My daughter and I usually form a tiny dyad on Christmas Eve, and

exchange presents. We put up a small tree and hang ornaments given by

her late grandmother and one that looks like our beloved black lab

Sara. Both passed away within the past few years.

After stockings in the morning, she races off to her dad’s much

larger side of the family, and then to another gathering of his

friends. I jog down to the beach, to prove I can still do it.

Upon arriving home from college this week, she asked, “Same

routine for us on Christmas Eve?”

I told her we’d have our gift exchange, but that I was going to go

out somewhere and be of service, if I could find a place that needed

help on short notice.

“You don’t have to go with me, but you can if you want,” I added.

“I’ll go,” she answered, which made me happy.

The problem was where to go. The soup kitchens did not need help;

the toys and family gifts had all been packed and distributed by

churches and outreach places. I had helped serve a wonderful

Christmas dinner at the Costa Mesa Alano Club the Saturday before.

(The club is a place, which holds 12-step meetings and is a safe

place for recovering folks to hang out, especially during the

holidays).

Then I thought of recovery houses. Maybe a women’s house might

have some ladies who were not ready to be home with their families on

Christmas Eve. I called a couple of places, and was told that, yes,

there would be some women staying over on the 24th and 25th. I picked

one that was in the area close to us in Costa Mesa.

When I told Laura about it, she asked: “What exactly is a recovery

house or a sober-living place? What happens there?”

I described the many reasons men or women end up in these homes.

Some are sent there unwillingly by desperate families or “a nudge

from the judge.” Maybe a recovery home is the only alternative to a

jail sentence. Others just realize they are sick and tired of being

sick and tired and come in willingly. Many women are in danger of

losing their kids and enter these homes for that reason. Some are

resentful and don’t think they have a problem, and some are, as one

woman said, “just done.”

The houses have rules, and generally expect the women to attend

recovery meetings, do household chores and receive counseling as

needed. They were to learn about managing finances, start job hunting

when the time was right and be home and in bed at a certain time. I

summed it up as training for a sober life out in the world.

I wasn’t sure Laura would be interested. She had heard about

recovery and my involvement in it for several years and had never

expressed any burning interest in attending any events.

“I’d love to go, and let’s make them little goodie bags,” she

suggested.

So, we called the house and asked the house manager what they

would like. The big items were socks, especially white socks; powder

puffs to clean off nail polish or makeup; and “girlie” items like

hair clips and ponytail bands. The manager added, “But they will be

so happy with anything you bring.”

We had fun picking out small items. We added some foot-bath

powder, candy and stamped envelopes for letters to their families. We

made up the goodies bags and set off to the house.

When we got there, Laura asked if this was the right place. “It’s

a pretty house, and it looks like a family lives there,” she said.

“Are we on the right street?”

I told her a family did live there, and we went in. We were

greeted by the manager, whom I’ll call Violet. She was a young woman

with one of the kindest faces I’ve seen. She introduced us to the

women, many of whom were close to my daughter’s age. They all greeted

us, and then Violet firmly told the girls to hurry up and get the

house cleaned.

While they hopped to it, she showed us around the house, which was

very homelike with several bedrooms, a cozy living room and a group

meeting place out back.

I recognized a picture of Santa drawn by my friend, Dave, who runs

a men’s sober-living home and gives art lessons to the women at

Violet’s house. Being currently obsessed by a flooring/ laminate

dilemma, I noticed the house had wide-plank wood flooring. Not that

I’m shallow or anything, but it was beautiful.

Violet gathered the women around in the living room, and told them

we had brought them some gifts. They looked surprised and happy. I

asked Laura to pass them out, and as they opened the bags, they

thanked us over and over.

“Look at my dirty feet,” laughed one, who had been working

barefoot. “With these socks, I’ll have no excuse.”

Another girl put the hair bands around her ponytail. She beamed

her thanks.

There was joy and gratitude over the smallest things -- the nail

polish, the hair clips and just the fact that we had dropped by. One

by one, each woman came over and hugged us.

As we left, I told them I admired their courage in getting sober.

With the trickle-down theory at work here, under Violet’s loving

tutelage, I knew they would have a good experience in reentering life

as sober women.

“I’ll come back and visit if you want me to,” I told them. They

did.

As we got into the car, the best holiday gift I could ever get was

given to me by my daughter.

“I enjoyed that, Mom. I’m glad we did it,” she said. “If they ever

need someone to hang out with them, I’ll go back.”

To the men and women trying to clean up their lives, to their

families and to those who work in the service of recovery, I wish you

courage, sobriety and the joy of living sober.

* SUE CLARK is a Costa Mesa resident and a high school guidance

counselor at Creekside High School in Irvine. She can be reached at

tallteacher@comcast.net.