"The Eskimo's Moral Compass"

Stop me if you've heard this one. A man is sitting in his local bar, having beers with the regulars. The conversation turns to spiritual matters and the man let's out a snort of disgust. "I don't believe in God. In fact, I know for a fact that God does not exist."

The bartender looks over in surprise. "Oh really? How do you know that?"

"Well," the man begins with total certitude, "it all happened last year. Remember when I went to Alaska? I got caught out in the wilderness, in the worst blizzard they'd had in a hundred years. I had no food, no idea where I was. No clue. I knew I was doomed. I prayed to God, begged him to save my life, told him I'd devote my life to him, if he only would save me from freezing to death. He didn't. He left me there in that blizzard to die."

The bartender and the other patrons stared back at him. Finally the bartender said, "Um, if you're sitting here talking to us, you obviously didn't die. What happened?"

"About ten seconds after I stopped praying, an Eskimo came by. He gave me some food and took me to his igloo so I'd have shelter for the night."

The bartender gave this a long pause. "And... this proves to you God doesn't exist?"

"Exactly! God didn't save me, the Eskimo did!"

* * *

The Eskimo story is one that's floated around the rooms of Recovery in one form or another for a long time. Most of us know who our Eskimos are. Sometimes they're the people who twelve-step us into the program. Sometimes they're just people who talk about their own experience so that we'll know where to go when we're ready. Sometimes they are random strangers, people present in our lives for only a short time, whose presence seem to be for no other reason than as momentary vessels of God's grace.

The Eskimo in my life is of the second kind. She could see how much I needed the program and she could see there was no way in hell anyone could make me go before I was ready to. She's still in my life today. We get together for coffee, talk about the craziness of our lives. We discuss program issues, meeting issues, and sponsorship. She's got more than a decade of time on me, but when we talk, it's as equals.

These days we're both unemployed, but we still find a way to scrounge change together and hang out. Sometimes I buy, sometimes she does. Sometimes it just depends on who's doing worse, financially. I bought for her the last time we got together. As we were waiting for them to make our drinks, she realized I didn't get charged for the snacks she had. Before I could say anything, she was back at the cash register, paying for them. When we got outside, I put my arm around her and told her that's why I love her. She's broke, unemployed, and maybe facing eviction, but she still does the right thing. Even if it's a little tiny thing that she doesn't have to do, she still does it.

Sometimes, the little things are all we have control of. It’s in those moments, the times when we choose in tiny, tiny, ways to show our true selves. Some people look at others doing those little things and think them fools for it. I look at them and say, "I want to know you. I want you in my life. I want you to stay in my life." I can see, in those smallest of actions, someone’s true moral compass.