I was reminded this week of something said to me a few years back in a very dark time. I was in what treatment centers call the chronic stage of my alcoholism. My husband was working with John Hagee Ministries at the time, and their family had become like family to us. I received a phone call from Diana Hagee. She asked me if I would like to come stay with them a while. I wasn’t doing anything but getting drunk, so I said sure…haha. I actually was very nervous and scared. These were very important people in our lives and also my husbands boss. How could I let them see the truth? Looking back, I’m sure they knew the truth anyway, it wasn’t too hard to see back then. So I arrive in San Antonio, TX and Diana picks me up at the airport. She doesn’t send an employee or anyone else, she picked me up herself. I cried and talked with her on the way to their home. God had sent me a mentor and friend. She said something to the effect that “Now I know more, I can care more”. I settled into their spare bedroom. I still couldn’t believe they had brought this mess into their home. They must not know how bad I really am. That evening at dinner Pastor Hagee took my face in his hands and said 5 simple words “We don’t shoot our wounded”. In the month that I would stay in their home, I came to know a very different family than I expected. After all, this is a TV Pastor. He has books to write, people to see. Important people. He can’t be so willing to help me. There’s many other souls to save out there. Why me? He must not know how sick I am. I have many stories to share with you in the coming days about my stay with the Hagee family and how God used them to bless me. I will also share about how my self will, got in the way…..

Ok when we left off I was running like h..e…double hockey sticks from a Super Rama clerk. I swing my backpack around front and start throwing the beers over my shoulder, meanwhile still trying to keep pace. I can’t believe I’m still in front of her, then it happens. I hear sirens coming from somewhere but I don’t see anything, at this point I have crossed a field and headed across a street. Halfway across the street, the police car appears seemingly out of nowhere I run right in front of it, luckily they hit the brakes. I stop and the officer gets out of the car, just then Super Rama Super Clerk appears. She tells the officer that I have stolen beer from the store. I show him my backpack and tell him she is crazy…..there’s definitely a crazy person in his presence but unfortunately for me it is not the clerk.
After a short look through the field the officer returns with the evidence, and I’m handcuffed a half block away from the treatment center. I was charged with theft and assault. Apparently when I threw the beer over my shoulder it was assault on the clerk. Whatever the charges I’m sure I deserved it and more. Oh yeah just in case you are wondering why I didn’t just buy the beer, beer is cheap right? I wasn’t allowed to have money at the treatment center, so an alcoholic like me will always find a way. I wish I could say things ended here, and got better. Unfortunately I continued in this life of hell for quite some time. My friends and family continued to pray for me, and God never left me, even on all those dark days that I left him.

So one day go bolting across the street with my fake Louis Vuitton backpack on to the Super Rama and the Beer isle. Once inside I really don’t remember seeing anyone. No store clerk, no other shoppers, all I saw was my next fix. Yes I know it was only beer, but when you are an alcoholic in the middle of the madness, beer is just fine. I found my beer and loaded the backpack. I was just about to exit the front door of Super Rama when I hear “Excuse me Miss”? No response from me, so she says it again. In the excitement I somehow trip on one of those big red Rug Doctor machines. I struggle with the dumb thing for what seems forever, then finally break through and scramble out the door. I take off in a run, the opposite direction of the treatment center. Then I glance behind me, and holy moly here comes the store clerk
making tracks right behind me. What is she going for Super Rama clerk of the month or something, it’s only beer.
I knew I was sunk because she was built like a runner, and at that time I was built like Bud Light. I had to think fast….

Buffalo Valley Treatment Center in Lewisburg TN was I believe my 4th treatment. So you might be thinking, she was in four treatment centers? No it was actually in 6. I will say it for you, Oh good Lord! There are a lot of OGL in this story, so I will spare you and just tell the story. Buffalo Valley had 2 houses where the patients were housed. The main house where the staff also had offices, and another house 2 doors down which housed only patients. I was assigned to the patient only house. Across from that house was a Super Rama Grocery Store, and a Dollar Store. I made it about 2 weeks into treatment, and the Super Rama started calling my name. We were warned from day one if we left the property, we would be asked to leave treatment, but I wasn’t going to get caught. I started slipping across the street, between classes, to the Super Rama and stealing beer. Yes I said stealing. Yes I know OML!!! Please come back for my conclusion, it gets better….or worse……..

During my alcoholic tornado my family and friends had decided they were through enabling me.  I ended up at the Nashville Rescue Mission.  I was suppose to stay 30 days in the shelter and then I could transfer over to The Hope Center which was a program for women with Drug and Alcohol Problems and entailed Bible based studies for 6 months.  I had been at the shelter about 2 weeks, when standing out in the back courtyard, I had an idea.   At this sick part of my life, I was obsessed with alcohol and how to get it about 90% of the time.  I was not allowed to leave the shelter, or I would be kicked out of the program.  So here I am standing in the courtyard and suddenly the thought comes to my mind that I could probably slip away real easily, run and find a liquor store, and be back before anyone missed me.  So I begin to work my way to the back of the property all nonchalant like and slip away.  Once off the property I look for the nearest busy street, and bolt down it looking for alcohol.  Since they are plentiful in many areas of major cities, I was in luck.  I picked up 2 bottles of vodka, and headed back to the shelter, pausing here and there to take a sip.  Once at the shelter, I put both bottles inside the waist band of my shorts, and held onto them with my both wrists, all the time looking very normal……I was stopped immediately and asked where I had been.  “Who me, uuuugh just around the corner, I was petting a puppy.”  The lady in charge was not buying it.  OK, well I couldn’t find you anywhere so I need you to take a urine test. “OK sure.”   Inside she follows me to the bathroom, and then she does what I never dreamed she would do, she follows me inside. “What no privacy”?  I guess not.  So I try my hardest to slip those shorts down and still hold the bottles with my wrists….Glass bottles crashed to the floor.  I immediately pick one up and start gulping it.  I said I was sick.  I really was.   The thought of not having that alcohol was just too much.  The women had to wrestle it from my begging, pleading, crying miserable self.  They let me stay that night in the chapel, I slept on a church pew…..