But by the grace of God
I’ve been blessed all my life in spite of being a functioning alcoholic while my children were growing up. Because of a faithful and forgiving wife, I’ve been sober 47 years.
As I drive around and see all the cars at different barrooms, I think, “But by the grace of God, I would be one of those people, wasting time, spending money and drinking — trying to find happiness.” My heart goes out to the wives and children of those people who never know what time Daddy’s coming home.
I once read that the drug, alcohol, has wrecked more families than anything else.
The following poem was written a few years ago by a convict in a Joliet, Illinois prison:
The name of each saloon’s a Bar, The fittest of its names by far.
A Bar to Heaven, a door to Hell, Whoever named it named it well.
A Bar to manliness and wealth, A door to want and broken health; A Bar to honor, pride and fame, A door to grief and sin and shame;
A Bar to hope, a Bar to Prayer,
A door to darkness and despair;
A Bar to honored useful life,
A door to brawling, senseless strife;
A Bar to all that’s true and brave,
A door to every drunkard’s grave;
A Bar to joys that home imparts,
A door to tears and aching hearts; A Bar to Heaven, a door to Hell,
Whoever named it named it well.
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