HEARD IN A MEETING:

"Before, when I prayed, my I used my prayers like spare tires

Today, they are steering wheels."

Thank you to my friend Peter for this analogy. The truth of the statement was so right on that it was one of those times that I did not need to write it down to remember it. It stayed with me all day.

I read another wonderful thought this morning. I subscribe to a newsletter on Jewish spirituality. Mind you, I am not Jewish, but I have a deep and abiding respect for the Jewish faith and traditions. This has grown deeper this year after participating in a 38 week in depth study of the Bible. I do not pretend to understand the Jewish faith or the Bible. These are areas of study that will take a life long journey of study to even begin to declare understanding. Even so, when I take the time to consider the elements of faith, whether mine or another's, I can be moved to the spiritual nature of every human and have assurance that it is there, even when I don't feel particularly spiritual.

Yesterday, after returning from the dentist (teeth cleaning in prep for big day on Monday) I saw a bill for a recent procedure I had done. When we were in Texas I apparently stepped on a cactus too small to do any damage or feel any pain. This little plant deposited a hairlike thorn in the bottom of my foot that showed up in the form of a painful red dot about three days after we returned home. So I walk into the clinic and the nurse practitioner takes a tweezers and pulls it out. It was about an inch and a half long with only about an eighth of an inch exposed. That was it. Clean and simple. A ten minute visit.

The bill was for $512. This is the total bill and it was classified as SURGERY! I was amazed and quite irritated. I called the administrative office. The nice lady at the other end said they had to classify this as surgery since it was a removal of a foreign body from tissue. You would have thought that they had removed a bullet from my gut. And in point of fact, the classification would have been no different. The charge would have also been the same. The best line: "We have no control over the classification." I slammed the phone down.

I called the insurance company and the nice lady at the other end said: "We have no control over how the doctor classifies the procedure." I informed her that I did not see a doctor, that I was astounded that nurse practitioners are allowed to do SURGERY and that surely they must want to control costs that are outrageous. No matter, she said. It is what it is.

I was pissed most of the day. Luckily I did not run into many people yesterday. I did take some of this rage out on my husband and I will apologize today. But what I read this morning on the Jewish spirituality study page leaped out at me.

"Every time we react poorly to others who may be treating us poorly, we are surrendering control of our emotions and particularly our goodness for God to them. We become prisoners in their chains and submit ourselves to their will and power rather than God's will and guidance."

I took my hands and heart off the steering wheel. I think that country song "Jesus Take the Wheel" has a new meaning today. It is not particularly earth shattering, this incident with the cactus. But it does remind me that if I behave this way with the little things, I risk acting even more badly with the big things, should they come. The God who saved me from myself deserves better from this gratefully sober alcoholic. My hands and heart and mind are back on the wheel, one day at a time.

HOW TO BEGIN THE 57TH YEAR

Yesterday I began my 57th year on this planet. It was a perfect day. Morning meeting filled with hope. Eyes checked and none the worse for wear. Hair done and colored by my wonderful friend, L., who is one of those spiritual beings I love talking to and sharing with. Thank you L. You are so special to me and you need to know that you are indeed one of the important people in my life. A wonderful ride on Isante. A lovely dinner out with hubby. Sober. Connected. Aware. Grateful. Oh happy day!

Yesterday I led our little meeting in the burbs. I had read a daily meditation on comparisons. How we compare ourselves to others and how that can trip us up. Yesterday was filled with comparisons of how I used to be. That is the measure of my life today. Old self, new self. Drunk self, Sober self. These are the measures of my progress in this life. This is the truth of who I am and can grow to be, with God's help.

The best part of my day came when my step-daughter called. I really for whatever reason had not expected a call since I know how very busy she is right now. She called from the campus of the college where granddaughter will attend and oldest grandson is at a baseball camp on the same campus during this orientation for granddaughter. And she took the time from her crazy day to dial me up and wish me a Happy Birthday complete with song as she stood in the bookstore at the university. I was moved to tears.

I don't have children of my own. I didn't think I was cut out for the job. My life had been littered with emotions that prevented me from ever thinking that motherhood was something I could do. I realize that when I examine my life today I probably did have the moxie to do this. I simply chose not to. And, until I got sober, well, it would have been the wrong choice. I am now too old to have kids. Having had a hysterectomy at age 43 pretty much sealed the deal and at 43 my disease went into full bloom. This was the start of the real struggle with alcoholism. Today, as I compare me with the 43 year old, I know that I made the right choice. The damage I would and could have done would have been immense. I do not regret the choice, the past and I do not have to close the door on it. It is what it is.

Today I no longer look at my life as "half empty" or "half full" as some describe their glass. I adjusted and continue to adjust my glass so it is always overflowing. That was what happened yesterday. I had no expectations about "my day" and instead received a day full of people I cherish and love. (Who knew that Steps, whether a step program or a step daughter would be so vital to my life?) I am now willing and grateful to accept the love these wonderful creatures send me, in whatever form it comes. It is a supremely serene state of being. It is beyond the "pink cloud." It is a fully sober, rainbow filled sky. And it came yesterday, easily, effortlessly, unconsciously, wonderfully, one day at a time.

ACQUIESCENCE

(ACCEPTANCE TO YOU AND ME)

I have not posted in a few days and it baffles me where the time goes. Nothing unusual in my life until today. And unfortunately this one is not unusual. Email came from step-Daughter and it seems her mother is on the verge of being ousted by her significant other. He has had it with her drinking. Many decisions will hang in the balance this evening. To be involved or not be involved, that is the question. I will let this one cook for a bit. This is like riding, patience and thinking through the pattern. I must not panic and must look for the cue. Glide to the pattern. Let the pattern speak. The beauty and truth of the movements will then bring harmony.

Life is so good. If you have stopped drinking, just for 10 minutes, go for 10 more. I am about to witness the crash of a relationship of 25+ years. And for what? A case of beer and the need to sleep it off. One day at a time. That is it. What a small price to pay when compared with the price of losing it all and dying alone. Please God, show them the way to this wonderful way of life. Let them know what we have been taught, to feel what we have accepted, and to heal like we did when we finally acquiesced. Acceptance. It is the key. Open your prison door and join us.

R.I.P MICHAEL

It has been an astonishing day. First Farah, then Michael. The angel of death is busy. I just hope for the two of them that each has seen the face of God and found Peace. I am grateful today for the fact that as far as I know my time on this wonderful Earth is not in question. My health is good, my happiness is sufficient and my needs are met. It is wonderful to be sober enough to remember all of the wonderful things these two icons of my youth contributed to the entertainment world and thus to my sense of music and acting. I did not expect them to change the world, they were merely entertainers. I did expect them to entertain me with their creativity and their heart. This they both did with larger than life gifts. Perhaps one day I too will find a gift to give that is larger tomorrow than the gift I have ready to give today. Thus I keep working the program and helping where I can. One day and one living breathing moment at a time.

Happy Father's Day!

When I was 10 years old, we lived in a very small town in South Dakota. (Pop. 500 give or take) My Dad was the clerk at the local Post Office. It was a small wooden structure at the end of Main Street with a side door that opened to a street with a downhill grade perfect for bicycle dreams. When you flew down this hill you would lose speed at about the exact location of the grain mill. It was a Saturday and I rode my bike along the street near the grain mill and came upon the ugliest creature I had ever seen. A snapping turtle with a girth of about a foot across. I did not know what it was but thought that this was a perfect gift to present to my Dad. So I just scooped up the darned thing and put it in my bike basket. Off we went. I had a smile and the snapper had, well, less than a smile.

When I knocked on the back door of the Post Office and my dad opened the door, I declared that I had something for him he had never seen before. The horror on his face was priceless and baffling. He jumped down from the loading platform and grabbed the amphibian by two side of the shell and promptly placed it in a sorting bin. He quietly explained to me that a snapper of this size could have completely taken off my hand. I wasn't exactly stunned. I was, let us say, amused. It didn't happen so no big deal. Typical 10 year old thinking. He admonished me to never touch such a creature again. I agreed. I never did know what happened to that old turtle.

Throughout my growing up years, my dad gave me similar admonitions about alcohol. I never agreed. By the time I started the downhill race with booze, I had the opinion that my parents had little experience in such matters and therefore not much knowledge. I never saw my dad drunk and my mother on only one occasion and even that was just amusing. But they were always there with the cautionary language of temperance and abstinence.

It is Father's Day. I think about that funny sunny Saturday and the turtle in the bike basket and I smile. I was lucky to live in such a small town where my dad could take a moment from his work and prevent an accident from happening. I was like Opie and my dad really was more handsome than Andy Taylor. Then I turned into Otis. Then many years later, I found AA.

Thank you God.

I will call my Dad today and ask him whether he remembers this story. I haven't asked him about this in years. He may. He may not. Either way, I have the ability today to connect with my Dad and not have booze be the first order of business in the conversation. In fact, since making my amends, all my dad has ever asked is, How are your meetings? The admonitions and the platitudes from the Temperance Society literature never invade our space anymore. It really is amazing what can happen when you start to really live sober, one day at a time.

Prayers for a Friend

Today I found out a good friend has not only gone out for the fifth time that I know of since I met her three years ago, but, thankfully, she agreed to in-patient treatment, aka REHAB.

The more I learn about these centers the more grateful I am that I did not choose that route for recovery. I would have been toast. I am too much for that. I hope it is just right for my friend. Say a prayer today for her. Her name is not important, it is her life that is. If you find it within your power to pray for a nameless faceless lost soul, I know it will help you stay sober today. I can guarantee it works for me and so it can for you. Thank you for taking the time, the words and the good intentions to send her the Power.

THE GOD OF MY UNDERSTANDING

I left the meeting before the closing prayer yesterday and part of it was about scheduling and the need to hit the road on time. The other part of it was frustration about the discussion of the "spiritual experience" and the declaration that it is fine if you want to find your "higher power" in the form of a doorknob. A doorknob? Heavens....

I heard something similar to this in early sobriety in a documentary on the life of Bill W. on PBS. Only this time the HP was a framed picture of a loved one. Again, heavens....

I am not saying that every drunk who walks into the rooms must latch on to any form of spirituality or religion that is not within their comprehensible grasp. I am saying that I have yet to meet anyone who has stayed continuously sober for any extended length of time ( and that does not mean one year or less) who attributes their sobriety to the spirit of a power that is inanimate. The recognition that this Power is a life force that moves and breathes and transforms is consistently spoken of by long term recoverers. The relationship with this Power, while intensely personal and unique to each individual, has within it the admission that reciprocity and connection comes through feeling, emotion, and belief. I do not obtain any comfort from a doorknob. I cannot express joy or sorrow to a picture frame and find peace. If this were my course, my HP could simply be any object that comes along. A rock, a piece of jewelry, a coin. Can I feel a Spirit within this collection of atoms and molecules? I think not.

I think sometimes the problem for many of us with the HP concept is that we are trying to maintain our self-will while surrendering to the absolute necessity of abstinence. We do not want a HP who will or that will be our surrogate parent. We have struggled enough with the commandments and instructions of do's and don't's that we could not live up to and somehow were baffled that we could not. It was not that we were in outright rebellion. We were slow and often incapable of realizing that we were and are addicts. We had no choice in the matter. But in order to find this HP that other sober alcoholics so freely described, we were beset by all of the prejudice of our past. Where was this HP when I was puking and aching and trying with all of my might not to pay for that bottle? Where was this HP when I was calling out in the dark from a jail cell? Where was this HP when my family kept praying for my recovery? Where were the results of this fervent petition?

Then I learned that my HP had not abandoned or forsaken. I learned that my HP was not a doorknob, or a picture frame, or anything of the inanimate variety. I experienced the tremors of awakening with a tingle down the spine, a clarity of vision and a newness in my heart that indeed there is a force, an energy, a breath of a moment when living was more important than dying, when deep inside my very core I felt the presence of a God I did not understand but Who was by me when the gun was in my hand and did not allow the shot to be fired. This a doorknob cannot do. It was for me this moment, one brief complete shot through the mind and the soul simultaneously that spoke to me in a thunderous language that cannot be translated but only felt. My God said to me and showed me in an instant my entire life, the wrongs of my being, the possibilities for my soul, and most importantly, that I was worthy of living and must. It was my jumping off place. He was everything! I needed to give in. He respected me enough to be His child and make a choice: "Live," He said, "and I will show you how. Trust that all will be revealed and that no harm can come to you that I cannot help you through." And mysteriously, these were not words. This was a feeling, a truth, a knowing of the previously unknown, a recognition that I could and would seek. This was the Great Fact for me. Even as I write this it is difficult to describe with adequacy so that you too might understand. It was a great upheaval. It was my Great AHA! It carried with it no pride in comprehension or fear in application. It was the place for a nano-second of perfect peace. But as brief as it was, as fleeting as it seemed, it has stayed with me each and every day. I cannot shed it. I will not. I can choose to ignore it and sometimes as an errant child I do. But that is when this wonderful pattern of living I have found in AA enters in and puts me back in the memory of what I must do and how to do it. It is His design for living. It is my commitment, one day at a time. Tell that to a doorknob and wait for the response. You will likely find yourself as I did before my conversion, talking to yourself about where the next bottle is coming from and asking why you cannot stop.