I spotted what looked to be a nervous, new member and headed her way. “Hi there, you look new.”
“Hi, yes. Is this the S.C.R.A.P.Y. meeting?” she asked as she looked around.
“Yes, welcome! My name is Dana. I’m president of S.C.R.A.P.Y., we are so glad you’ve come.” I said happily, always excited when someone crawls from the shadows of darkness to the light of good health.
“My name is Stacy.” She seemed more at ease.
“Nice to meet you Stacy.”
“You too,” she smiled.
“You’ll find us to be very friendly and……..what’s that smell?” I said as I knew I was quite familiar with it.
“What smell?” she said seeming confused and perhaps nervous.
As I moved in closer and took a deep breath, she recoiled slightly. “I smell donuts.”
Her eyes widened and her expression dropped, “What?!”
Eyeing her purse, I peered inside. “Whatcha got in there? You didn’t happen to stop by the bakery on the way here, did you?”
Her jaw went slack and guilt crept across her face. “What!?” she said, trying to sound innocent.
“You’re going to have to throw those out before you come to the meeting. Would you like me to do it?” I said, knowing I wouldn’t have a problem trashing what was poison to me.
Backing out of the door she stammered, “I…….um……….NO!” she turns and bolts out the door like a gazelle clutching her prize.
I turn toward the room, “We’ve got a runner!” I shouted as my voice echoed across the room.
All 20 S.C.R.A.P.Y. members spring from their chairs, drop their plates of veggie sticks and head for the exit. “Follow me!” I exclaim.
Just as I clear the door I see her make it to the sidewalk right outside the building and head right. “There she is!” I point. She hears me and turns, panic and fear etched onto her face. The entire group pursues.
She’s headed for the intersection. That should slow her down I think to myself. The group keeps up (being healthy has its advantages). We are just a few feet behind her.
Meanwhile, onlookers gather, trying to assess what’s going on. A couple quickly exits the sidewalk, fearful of the herd stampeding toward them. “Stop Stacy, let us help you!” I yell loudly. More people stop to watch. Traffic slows down.
She turns her head back again to see what chance she has of escape. Just as she turns her head back around……….
BAM! Right into the crosswalk pole.
We all stop for a moment and gasp simultaneously. Even onlookers could feel that hurt.
She lay on the ground motionless, her purse filled with donuts still clutched under her arm. She then reaches to grasp the rising bump on her head.
Standing over her I ask with concern, “Are you alright?”
“That hurt,” she moans in pain.
“How many fingers am I holding up?” She answered correctly. “What is your name?” She got that one right too. She seemed fine.
I knelt down closer to her, “Stacy……..do you understand what sugar and carbs are doing to you?” I reached out my hand toward her purse. “Let it go Stacy……….let it go.”
She handed me the bag and we helped her up. Assessing her face, someone observed, “THAT’S gonna leave a mark!”
“We’ll get you some ice,” I reassured her. As we walked back into the building, I dropped the donuts in the trash can outside, and then walked into the building.
What I didn’t notice was a small group of people heading our way. As they filed in, I assured them that Stacy was alright. They were happy to hear but wanted to know what kind of people would chase a woman down and get her to give up her donuts. I explained to them we were recovering sugar crack addicts, who wanted their lives back. We supported one another, whatever that looks like from day to day.
They all stood there pondering what I said and the scene they had just witnessed. “Can we join?” asked one of them.
“Of course!” I said laughing.
“I want to give up donuts too,” one woman lamented.
The commotion settled and I made our new guests feel welcome, “Veggie sticks?” I said, offering them a plate. They all smiled.
Stacy was given some ice and we started the meeting. Stacy went first.
“Hi, my name is Stacy and I’m a sugar crack addict. I need help.” She said as she replaced the bag of ice to her head.
“Hi Stacy, we are here to help,” we all echoed with love and encouragement.