Seventy Seven Times

Prompt: Write a story about someone seeking forgiveness for their past actions.

Seventy Seven Times

For most people, seeing the rising sun represents the warmth of a new day.  Today as the sun shines through my bathroom window, I am only feeling on my face the coldness from the bathroom floor tiles.  I awoke to discover I had lain in close proximity to the toilet. My head was still spinning and throbbing. The nausea had not subsided, and I felt the need to wretch the demons from within me again. When it was over, I mused to myself “I feel like a million bucks. I am ready to begin again.”  

I labored to right myself into a standing position with the aid of the sink and toilet as my crutches. I wobbled wearily as I made my way to the kitchen. I managed to turn the kitchen faucet on. Without hesitation I stuck my face into the stream of cold water flowing from the nozzle. “Soothing; I am so thirsty,” I said aloud.  I drank from the steam of water.  “I am so parched.” I gulped like there was no tomorrow. I feebly walked over to the kitchen chair plopping my huge frame down into it. As I sat down, I heard a crack from the chair. Overcome with anxiety I dropped my head onto the kitchen table.  I whimpered. “Stop being such a baby,” said my internal voice. The voice continued, “Get up; you know the antidote. Grab the bottle and take a few swigs to cut through the haze. Hurry now, you have things to do."  I pried myself off the table feeling light-headed, woozy, and nauseous all at once. 

I began an earnest search for my antidote looking through the kitchen cabinets. Finding nothing I scuffled into the living area which doubled as my bedroom. I checked my hidden stashes. I was panicky and shaking all over. I had to find my antidote! And there it was hidden behind the sofa bed. I knew I had some. The bottle shimmered in the sunlight as I held the bottle of Russian vodka to my lips.  The first gulp is always the hardest but afterwards the smoothness of the liquor calmed me down.  

I sat at the end of the pull-out bed that I did not sleep in last night. My internal voice raged within me. “Drink up! You know if you stop you will feel the pain again. Who cares what anyone thinks of you! Why would stores even sell this stuff if it was bad for you? Besides, it really does make you a better person. No one can pull the wool over your eyes after you get a little buzzed.”

I took a deep breath as I covered my ears thinking it would stop the voice within me. For a lingering moment I was able to get my socks and shoes on. Then I realized I was not wearing any pants. I began the dressing process all over again. Once dressed I stood in front of the mirror on the bathroom door.  I gasped at seeing how wretched my appearance had become. My skin and lips were dry. My eyes were shallow and puffy. There were dark circles and wrinkles around my eyes. My cheeks had an unnatural rosy color on them.  If I could view my insides they would be no better as I continued to experience the nausea, heartburn, and bloating.

To the reflection in the mirror I whispered, “You are a dead man walking. You made your life a living hell for yourself and others around you. Yeah, tell yourself you have a disease but do nothing about it. Let it consume you as you rot your insides out. How many people have you run over in the process of your consumption? Better just to step in front of train and end it.”

At that moment my phone rang. It was my boss yelling at me for being late to work again and then I heard a click at the other end of the line. I grabbed the rest of the bottle and sat in the middle of the room. I drank it until the sun went down. I could not stand up. My body seemed paralyzed. The room spun furiously around.  Images appeared before me that seemed real, but would fade in and out. Horrible things came out of the darkness. I saw demons laughing at me. Silhouettes pointing bony fingers at me in an accusing fashion. I saw before me a grave filled with empty bottles. Familiar faces in my life shouting at me and cursing me. I shuddered in fear. I tried to get up but as I did my lamp and television set came crashing down as my body also smashed to the floor.

The amount of time that had passed is unknown to me as I lay in this strange bed with a mask on my face, a needle in both arms and an IV bag hanging above my head. I have a splitting headache from the whirring of a machine next to my bed. Through my brain fog I assumed I was in a hospital. My speculation proved correct when a man wearing white scrubs stopped at my bedside. He saw that I was regaining consciousness. He asked, “you know where you are?” I feebly nodded ‘yes.’ The man replied, “I think you do not know. You are in the detox center at the university hospital. You nearly died three days ago with acute alcohol blood poisoning. You have been on dialysis to remove the toxins in your system. The staff will see you shortly to discuss your medical situation.”  

Immediately, the man left and a second man wearing a white lab coat came into the room. He pulled up a chair next to the bed. He began, “I am your doctor. I have been given the details on how you ended up here at the center. A neighbor below you in your apartment building called 911 when they a heard a loud thud from their ceiling. The police and paramedics found you comatose on the floor of your apartment. Twice in the ambulance you flat-lined. By some act of a higher power, they restarted your heart twice.  Clinically, with all the alcohol and subsequent heart failure you should be dead. You have suffered irreparable kidney and liver damage. I would urge you to cease your self-destructive behavior by entering into a sobriety program immediately. If you refuse, I will have you committed to a psychiatric hospital for attempted suicide over an indefinite period of time.  Think carefully about your decision because there are no other options except for certain death. You will not be a casualty on my watch.”

His words penetrated through my anguished soul.  The next few hours seemed like an eternity as I ruminated on the doctor’s words. Had my soul died? Had I been abandoned by society or had I just abandoned myself? I was so angry at the world around me. I was mad at my dysfunctional family for causing me to seek solace in booze. I was mad at friends who encouraged me in my excessive behavior. I was mad at people in authority who stifled me and gave the short end of the stick. I was mad at God because He made me this way. I was made at people and God because no one would help me! I was mad because how could anyone forgive me for what I had done to them?  I was mad because I could not forgive myself for what I had done to me! How could I possible even ask for forgiveness from others because of my behavior?  Is there a God who could forgive someone as incorrigible as myself? How many people have I hurt?  

Then it hit me. There is no one else to be mad at or to blame. My rock bottom was realizing that I was my worst enemy and I knew it when I took my very first drink. My alcoholic euphoria was fleeting resulting in a vomit of agony, pain, distrust, and sickness I inflicted upon others in my world.

My process of sobriety is a moment-to-moment journey through time now. The late C.S. Lewis penned “You can’t go back and change the beginning but you can start where you are and change the ending.”

So, I began the painful walk through my life adding up the number of transgressions I inflicted on others and myself.  I would try to get through each moment of every day one tiny step at a time. Keeping my eyes focused on the next moment, and the next moment. But here is the caveat. I know I can not do it alone. Now that I was able to get out of bed, one night in the detox unit I got down on my knees and invoked the Higher Power to save me and get me through this excruciating detoxification of body and spirit. This higher power I realized was the God of my childhood. As a child I came to know Him then as “Abba, Father.” Today His name is still “Abba, Father.” Then I remembered about Jesus. He did something in His life that was the ultimate display of forgiveness ever done in human history. I had to look at His example to understand any kind of forgiveness. 

The days in the unit passed without me fully grasping how much time had gone by. I sought healing in my twelve step counseling sessions.  I sought out guidance from the chaplain who explained his perspective on forgiveness. He said “that understanding true forgiveness must come from my Higher Power, God, before I can expect it of myself or ask it from others.   Simply look at what God had done over 2000 years ago when He sent His Son, Jesus to die on a cross for all of humanity’s sins, corruption, failures, and moral decrepitude. And yes, I was included too.”

Later he told me the story of how Peter, a disciple of Jesus asked Him one day, “Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother or sister who sins against me? Up to seven times?”  Jesus answered, “I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times.¹” 

And the chaplain added, “For if you forgive other people when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you.  But if you do not forgive others their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins.²”

I may never get the forgiveness I seek from the others I have hurt. But I do know that my heavenly Father has forgiven me of all my horrible actions. I know that if someone transgresses against me, I still need to forgive them 76 more times for that same transgression. But the cross of Christ holds an infinite number of sinful actions, thoughts, and deeds so I need to work on increasing that number of mine beyond 76.

1 (Matthew 18:21-22, NIV)

2(Matthew 6:14-15, NIV)

Author: Peter Gautchier

Acknowledgement: Reedsy Prompts