Chapter 8
Nell stood in her dark, rustic kitchen and carefully read the itinerary on the back of the elegant, heavyweight black invitation
before she tossed it on top of the army recruitment brochure in the garbage can. She turned to her husband, Chip, sitting
in the leather recliner in the adjoining hearth room, and said, “Wine, wine, and more wine.”
“Nothing wrong with a glass of wine, Nelly,” he replied without removing his eyes from the thick murder mystery novel in his
hand. “Jesus turned the water into it at Cana, you know?”
“And I would have guzzled three jars before Saint Peter had to escort me out of the reception,” she replied with sarcasm.
“You haven’t had a drop in five years, Nell. You have self-control to make it through the other social affairs we attend.
I know you can survive a weekend on Allyson Island.” Chip turned the page of his book.
“It’s not that I think I’m going to fall off the wagon. I’m past that. I know how to confidently stand by my convictions and
ask the Lord for strength in times of temptation.” Nell sighed as she stepped into the cozy hearth room, her eyes settling
on the matching chair beside Chip’s.
Alcohol addiction is often associated with images of quickly downing shots of tequila, chugging cases of beer, and getting into drunken fights in bars.
However, Nell’s relationship with alcohol was quite different.
Growing up with an alcoholic father, she was acutely aware of the dangers of excessive drinking.
Yet, as a good Catholic girl, she also viewed wine as an integral part of celebrations and something that could be beneficial for the soul.
Chip, Nell’s college sweetheart, was a Southern Baptist, not a Catholic. Along with him came his Southern Baptist family,
known for their casseroles, potlucks, and teetotaling lifestyle. Chip had a Methodist uncle who liked to share a joke: “You
know why I don’t go fishing with just one Baptist? He’ll drink all my beer. If I take two, then he won’t touch a drop.” This
joke contained some truth. Whenever Chip did have a drink, it was always in private—either in the hearth room or on the back
patio during a summer evening—never in public, as he was concerned about causing a brother or sister to stumble into their
own temptations.
After Chip and Nell got married, Nell managed to hide her enjoyment of wine while outside the home. However, she still had
a few glasses during meals and before bed. It wasn’t until years later that she realized the more she tried to conceal her
drinking from her in-laws and church family, the more she craved it. Eventually she found herself consuming a bottle or two
a day. Her drinking behavior led her to say and do things that were uncharacteristic for her, including posting silly ramblings
on her social media accounts late at night. Many mornings, with a terrible headache and a steaming cup of coffee, she would
discover the posts she had typed in the early hours and feel a sense of shame.
After deleting a confusing and deeply embarrassing rant about Tate’s girlfriend at the time—a post that had received no likes despite being seen by hundreds and led to a scolding from her freshman son—Nell felt more exposed and humiliated than ever.
As she buried her throbbing head in her hands, she composed an apology to the young girl she had called a Jezebel and thought, I can’t keep doing this.
Nell believed she could quit drinking cold turkey, but as the days went by, she quickly realized that breaking free from her
habit was much harder than she had imagined. The harsh realization of her dependence on alcohol hit her like a ton of bricks,
leaving her feeling vulnerable and scared that her family might fall apart because of it. Ironically, her fears about drinking
only led her to drink more. Each hangover and reprimand from her husband and children about her behavior caused Nell to drown
further in guilt.
“That is not merely guilt,” her pastor told her as she and Chip sat in his office at church. “That is conviction, Nell. It
isn’t meant to condemn you or make you feel worthless. Conviction is meant to lead to repentance. Some people can enjoy wine
at a wedding or another joyous occasion, but others must avoid it altogether. It sounds to me, Nell, that the Lord is telling
you that you belong to the latter group.”
“I know it’s hurting me. I know it makes me act out of character and embarrasses my family. But in all honesty, I don’t want
to stop drinking,” Nell confessed, unable to look at Chip sitting in the chair beside her. “I like it too much.”
“Denying yourself and following Jesus is never easy,” Pastor Floyd replied with love. “But you can rely on his strength in
your times of weakness.”
She wanted to follow Jesus because she believed his plan was better than hers.
She loved him for restoring her parents’ marriage after her father’s drinking led to an affair.
She watched God at work when her daddy got sober and rededicated his life to the church, serving until his last breath.
When he suddenly died, her mother endured with the comfort that only the good Lord could provide.
All the prayers God had answered for Nell and her family put into perspective that the least she could do was deny herself.
So she finally did. And that was five years ago.
She regularly attended Celebrate Recovery meetings and counseling sessions with her pastor, and most importantly, she leaned
on Jesus. In the beginning of her journey, she faced many challenges that were often difficult, but staying sober was worth
it. The clarity of mind, absence of guilt, peace in her soul, and sense of God’s presence were far more valuable than any
fleeting moment of indulgence.
Despite all the gains she had made in her sobriety, she still didn’t want to go to Moira’s party, and she told Chip so.
Chip dog-eared the page, closed the book, and gave her a warm smile as she fell into the chair beside him. “And why not?”
“I’m not particularly fond of being around drunk people. Especially Moira.”
“Don’t worry about what Moira and her other guests are doing, and don’t judge them either, Nelly. That is a matter between
them and God.”
“I really don’t know why I was invited to her party. Mo and I haven’t spoken in months. She’s still angry with me for calling
her out about all that drama at the Sunday school Christmas party that she hosted. I mean, we are Baptists. We don’t have
an open bar at church functions! And not only that, but she got hammered. Her rendition of ‘Santa Baby’ while standing on
top of her coffee table was not an innocent performance, Chip! Marty slapped her husband for staring too hard. The whole evening
was like a scene out of Animal House.” Nell picked at her long nails coated in clear polish.
“Animal House is a stretch.” Chip shook his balding head and set the book on the polished mahogany table beside his oversized chair. He
turned to look at her with love and concern in his eyes. “Go and have a good time, Nelly. It’s an opportunity for you to make
amends with Moira. This invitation is her olive branch. Besides, you need a weekend away. It has been tough on you with Taylor
moving out, and Tate will soon be joining the—”
Nell interrupted her husband, and anxiety was obvious in her voice. “I texted Jess and asked if she was going, but she’s going
to be out of town. I won’t know anyone else there. It will just be Mo’s friends from her hometown, her sisters-in-law, and
a bunch of other lushes I’ve never met. I keep picturing a Sodom and Gomorrah situation.”
Chip laughed. “Animal House and Sodom and Gomorrah?”
Nell scoffed.
“Go, Nelly.” He grabbed the book from the table and opened it to the dog-eared page. “And represent Jesus well by showing
Moira some patience and love.”
With a frown, Nell murmured, “I’m afraid I won’t.”
She left Chip in the hearth room to continue reading his grisly story. She retrieved the invitation from the stainless-steel
trash can, sighed, then secured it to the refrigerator with a magnet that read, “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens
me.”