Selective Serenity

Am I giving all to God?
I have experienced four spiritual awakenings in my life. Within each and every on of them I felt the presence of God and the freedom of letting go of my willful self-centerdness. But none of these God conscious epiphanys got me clean and sober.
I am so grateful to God that I am an alcoholic. For were it not for my disease, I would not have come to believe that I cannot do this thing called life without creating wreakage. Hell, it took AA for me to realize I even did wreakage. Without the simple steps of recovery I would still be out there thinking grandiose ideas that I tried to implement with a pititful and patheticself image.
It took complete demoralization for this alcoholic to be felled at the knees by the ax of Divine Love. My selfish self-centerdness destroyed my relationships long ago. It was only a matter of time before it destroyed my body.
I can no longer afford to selectively choose what I need to give to God. And I no longer believe that God needs me. And likewise I don’t pray for others selectively either. i.e.: Please let that person find sobriety, please give that person someone to love them, please save that person’s child from drug abuse.” Who am I to decide what would be best for you? Only God knows how to love perfectly. I pray for knowledge to know his will (willingness to listen) and the Power (Holy Spirit) to do it. I pray the same for others.That’s the only way I know how to get out of God’s way and let His Will, not mine, be done.
The daily goal is complete serenity, a giving up of expectations, a letting go of the reins. The peace that passeth all understanding (because self-knowledge availed be nothing!) is in a continual daily, moment to moment, decision to decision to surrender.
The end goal may be to die sober. But the journey is meant to be one of walking on water.

Fear

At the “Straight Talk” women’s meeting tonight, the topic was “Fear.” Immediately my multiple personalities began to assemble a profound share for when my turn came. They scrambled around seeking remembered shares from other meetings, searched the data base for memorized Big Book quotes and began to assemble our experience, strength and hope in a way that would change lives by our very eloquence. After some time I began to wonder why all the ticket numbers being called began with one hundred. I glanced down at my ticket time and again. Two hundred thirteen. Hmm. Ten minutes before the meeting ended, I looked again at my ticket and realized I hadn’t seen the 1 at the end, obscured by a misallignment in printing. I had to smile at myselves, “Ha” I told them, see what happens when it’s ALL about you???” Then it happened, bam! Honesty. And I suddenly remembered the chilling fear in my friend Lorri’s face yesterday, 2 1/2 weeks dry. “This is NOT fun,” she screamed. How do I do to have fun now? I used to wake up blissed out, I never woke up with a hangover! Making love with my husband hurts now!” I could feel her desperation, it hung on me like a tight shirt on a clammy day. And I was afraid too. For her. For me, that I wouldn’t say the thing that would make a difference. That I would fail and she would fall. And suddenly I saw myself, walking into my apartment after my first meeting, standing in the entryway with no where to go that didn’t remind me of drinking. I felt like I had come home from alcohol’s funeral and there were pictures, mementos, memories everywhere. My lover, my friend, my muse, my companion, my comfortor. Who would love me now? My moment of clarity was there, standing in the entrance of my apartment, realizing the person I loved more than anyone in the world didn’t even have a pulse. He was, in fact, a cold-blooded murderer, determined to take me to the grave with him. I said,” Lorri, you’ve got to go to meetings.” She said, “I will, I will.” And then I remembered. There are such unfortunates, it is not their fault, they seem to be born that way. There but for the Grace of God go I, and you.

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