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My church’s Communion offers two different chalices for dipping: one wine and one grape juice. The chalices are both ceramic; one glazed light brown, while the other is glazed light brown with a white swoosh on one side. And for the first time ever, last Sunday I dipped into the wrong one.

Step Two:  came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.

As I pulled out the half-red wafer and brought it to my mouth, the number of worries and concerns that flew through my mind in those two seconds were incredible. An instant, out-of-nowhere moral dilemma. And at the front of the church, no less. It’s not like I was at an after-hours office event, or I accidentally started to drink a rum and Coke left near my regular coke on a picnic table at a family reunion. It was a harmless, honest mistake. I mean, what are we actually talking about, a tenth of a thimble? But yet as I made the sign of the cross and walked back to my seat, head down and slowly chewing, I was running rationalizations and justifications through my head. Familiar actions, which led to the worry and doubt.

Now, how much of this do I need to tell my sponsor? Or bring up in a meeting? Or write about anonymously on the Internet? I mean, it’s not like I got back in line.

The value of telling someone is the real genius of the program. Even though the metaphorical body of Christ wasn’t going to cause me to relapse, and even though I completely understood that on an intellectual level, it was still nice to get reassurances from others who have had equally insane thoughts.

It’s the very things that I am unsure of that I need to be bringing up.

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