Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of
God as we understood Him. (Reprinted from The Big Book, Alcoholics
Anonymous, pg. 59, with permission of A.A. World Services, Inc.)
I was raised Catholic and
completed 12 years of parochial school. I hated the nuns and thought
the priests hypocrites. It was during twelfth grade a theologian
taught my religion class and my views of Christianity changed. He
gave me insight into the bible and talked about the realities of the
interpretations of those who had written it, and that it did not
have to be taken so literally. I became, in 1961, someone who
started to think for himself. I certainly didn't have it all figured
out but I began to think that I could have a God of my
understanding.
I was lucky coming in to AA
with this elementary belief in a God of my design. Through these
years of drinking I had questioned His love and even His existence.
But like my favorite speaker, Clint H. says, "I have always been a
seeker."
At AA meetings I am constantly
reminded how lucky I am. I see suffering alcoholics coming in with
little faith in anything and struggling to be like everybody else,
to fit in for once in their life. For most, it's a ‘do or die’
situation because they've tried everything else. The first thing
that the group conscience does, I think, is to start trying to help
these lost souls see just how depraved and insane their lives really
are. They are given examples of our insanity. We tell them "how it
was" and "how it is now" and they start to get a glimmer of hope.
This, I see as God working through AA to restore sanity. Those of us
lucky enough to have had a spiritual awakening as a result of the
steps are able to do God's work by example.
When Bill wrote the drafts of
the 12 steps, he made reference to God, with a capital “G” no less,
and he suggested that we kneel when we ask that our character
defects be removed. Some suggested that he had ‘too much God in
these steps.’ What a funny idea, looking back. Webster's dictionary
says that faith “is a simple trust based on experience." My
experience came from the lives I saw miraculously changed by these
steps.
My first sponsor, who has long
since moved on to a better place, had me get down on my knees when I
took step 2 and also 3. He taught me that humility is the key to
these steps and our sobriety. Kneeling became a simple act of
submission in my program and I "came to believe;" came to believe
that I could have what my sponsor had. Oh yes, he told me his story,
and what a story it was. A very compassionate and wise Higher Power,
through twists and turns, led me to a man who had an even more
tortuous 'drunk-a-log' than did I, and the miracles that happened to
this tortured person's life shown like a beacon as I watched him
reach out to newcomers, as I watched him be a dad and husband, as I
knelt with him in the grass before a Quarterly convention and said a
sincere step three. I said in my very newcomer way, "This is kinda
embarrassing." He motioned over to the crowd gathering for the
convention and said, "They'll understand."
I've never been embarrassed
again about such public displays of humility. It's what keeps me
sober; that and a Higher Power who knew what He wanted for me when I
didn't, and a sponsor who practiced the principles and passed them
on. God speed, Tom, wherever you are.
TERRY M
ANCHORAGE, KY
"As we felt new power flow in,
as we enjoyed peace of mind, as we discovered we could face life
successfully, as we became conscious of His presence, we began to
lose our fear of today, tomorrow or the hereafter. We were reborn."
– (Reprinted from The Big Book, Alcoholics Anonymous, pg. 63, with
permission of A.A. World Services, Inc.)
The first time I read those
words, I was turned off by them. I had come to the program an
atheist. I wanted nothing to do with being "reborn." But as with
everything else in the book, I hadn't a clue of what those words
meant. Reborn? Give me a break. My eyes saw "We were reborn." My
brain heard, "Born-again Christian."
I may not be a Christian
today, I'm not quite sure what I am, but fortunately, the program
doesn't require that I be one. It only requires that I am willing to
try to believe that there is something bigger than me and that I
turn myself over to that Power. Incidentally, I'm no longer an
atheist. I believe in God. And today that belief is quite strong.
But how'd I get to that point from such a great distance? Same as
any other atheist or agnostic that truly WANTED recovery in the
program of Alcoholics Anonymous - I started with Steps 1, 2 and 3.
But I can't discuss Step 3
without mentioning the 2 prior steps. Step 1. It was a set-up! You
tricked me! Step 1 demolished my ego. Smashed me flat. And it left
me there. I KNEW I was powerless over alcohol at that point. But I
couldn't manage my own life?! Great. Now what? I don't feel so good.
Step 2. Geez ... that was a tough one for an atheist (actually, I
would find out it wasn't that tough at all." This step had God
written all over it. At least that's what my brain heard. My eyes
read "A Power greater than ourselves". Once again, it's that
screwed-up nerve between my eyes and my brain. My sponsor quickly
pointed out my error, "Where does it say God in Step 2?" "Right
THERE!" I replied pointing at the words "…Power greater than
ourselves." It was at that point that my sponsor began giving me
reading lessons, "Read ONLY the black words you see on the white
paper." Duh. OK. He returned me to Bill's Story and Ebby’s words,
"Why don't you choose your own conception of God?" And he told me
all I had to do was be WILLING to give it a shot.
Was I willing? Well, yeah, I
just got smashed flat by Step 1, gotta' go somewhere from here,
right? Yes, I'll try. He said that was good enough. Step 3. By this
point, I was definitely not feeling so good. I'd vowed not to drink
my "medicine" any more; I'd just said I was willing to try to do
something (come to believe) that only weeks before would have set me
on a tirade (I loved to argue God, or more accurately in those days,
the lack thereof); and I'd just read and accepted that I was insane
(I kept trying to tell everyone that!). Little did I know I was
about to do something that would go so completely against my grain,
but would begin life-altering changes in me. The thought of getting
on my knees in a closed room, holding another man's hand and saying
a prayer just had never entered my mind in the past. But as I say, I
had to go somewhere. I was crushed.
"We thought well before taking
this step making sure we were ready…"(ibid) I don't know about WELL,
but I thought very DEEPLY about this step. I was in the habit of
prayer by this point (thanks again to my sponsor), so I prayed that
the step would work. I talked long and hard with God I still wasn't
sure he was there or if so, that he cared about me. But I didn't
want to be insane anymore and I was REAL tired of the depression. So
as promised, I was giving it a shot. So my sponsor and I went into
the back room of a club for alcoholics. We shut the doors, got on
our knees, held hands and after introducing me to God, he suggested
I read the 3rd Step Prayer or say it in my own words. I didn't have
my own words; I was new to this, so I read the black words on the
white page. But I read them from my heart. And I meant them.
When I was done, something
unexpected happened. I felt an immediate warming in my hands that
moved up my arms and into my chest and I KNEW, almost HEARD the
words in my head, "You're going to be OK." (Chokes me up just
writing about it again now.) And I began crying. Crying out loud,
tears running down my face. And I couldn't get up for a good 2
minutes or so. I just kept sobbing. But they were tears of relief
and joy.
You see, God had touched me.
He touched my heart and he comforted me. I didn't see him. He didn't
speak to me. But he rushed in and filled that horrible, black void
left by Step 1. And all I had to do was ask. And as I cried, I felt
the most sane I had ever felt in my life. I often hear that the
program of action begins with the 4th Step and granted, that's what
it says in the book. But I disagree to this day. The 3rd Step, done
the way I was told to do it by reading the black words on the white
paper, included THREE ACTION WORDS (verbs) of immense importance to
me in working this step - 3. MADE a decision to TURN our will and
our lives over to the care of God as we UNDERSTOOD Him." I MADE the
decision and I TURNED my life over to Him and I tried my best, if
not to fully UNDERSTAND Him, to at least have enough faith to
believe that He was there, listening. Had I simply read the words
and not performed the action required of Deciding, Turning and
Understanding, I'm pretty sure I'd not be writing this article today
and would likely be dead. And though I didn't think it would, the
3rd Step worked just fine. All 12 of them worked and continue to
work to this day. More good, black words on white paper - "It is by
dying that one awakens to eternal life."
Rick D.
Thirteen years ago on the
Saturday after Thanksgiving, 1994, I made a decision to re-member
with my Higher Power. I am carefully using this hyphenated form of
the word "remember." The word literally means, "to become mindful
again." I also see it as a word that paved the way for God to become
a part of my life again. It was a word that reminds me that I have
rejoined with the God of my youth or as I put it, I have re-membered
with God.
I woke up on that Saturday and
made what was in reality my true first step. Walking down the
hallway of my house at 7:00 a.m. I said out loud, "I can't quit,"
and decided to take my first before-noon drink of liquor. (Actually,
there were some expletives involved.)
Before I could get to that
drink, the phone rang. It was my temporary sponsor asking me to go
to an 8:00 a.m. meeting at a club for alcoholics in Louisville. I
decided to go. I knew that I would have plenty of time later to
drink. I had the weekend before me. Besides, my racing mind thought,
this will probably be the last meeting I ever attend. I knew I had
lost the battle with alcohol. I was powerless over this cunning,
baffling, powerful foe. It was just a matter of time before I lost
everything: car, home, job, family.
To put it succinctly, so much
intervened between me and that first drink during those 24 hours. I
received almost a dozen messages on my answering machine. I began
returning calls at about 6:00 p.m. It seems there had been a
concerted effort by AA members to do some twelfth step work on me. I
connected with my last caller at 11:00 p.m. This wonderful woman
stayed on the phone with me until 5:00 a.m. Sunday.
At 2:00 a.m. Sunday I realized
that I had been almost 24 hours without a drink. One day. The basic
suggestion of AA. I still had that awful phenomenon of craving for
alcohol. The times I had quit before had always left me with that
powerful craving. I began to pray, “God, if you will just take away
this physical craving, I’ll do the work.” This, I later realized,
was my Third Step. It is the only time in sobriety I have bargained
with God. He delivered, and, one day at a time, I have as well. I
haven’t had a drink since.
I didn’t lose my car. I kept
my house. I got another job shortly thereafter. My family (two
daughters) and I are closer than ever. Since that real Thanksgiving,
I have visited over 30 countries and 35 states through the two jobs
I have held in sobriety. I have since retired. The main thing is
that I have remembered with society. I have remembered with my
family. And I have remembered with the God of my understanding, who
was also the God of my youth. After all, the third step is about re-membering
with a Higher Power who never abandoned us at all. S/He was always
there, in the words of Sir Francis Thompson, as “The Hound of
Heaven” forever nipping at our heels reminding us that S/He will
never desert us. The third step rejoins us to that promise.
Lee W.
A sandstorm swirls outside the
window again, blocking the scorching Kuwaiti sun. I sit in my chair
by the window, as I do every afternoon, reading and drinking
gooseberry wine from a large tumbler. The walls are lined with
massive cases of books, floor to twelve-foot ceiling.
Hundreds and hundreds of
books, all brought to the Middle Eastern desert by ladies of the
American Women's League of Kuwait, a continual trickle since the
League’s inception in 1963. At my first AWL meeting, I assumed
responsibility for housing the League’s library. Since then, I
drink, and read.
Far away from myself, reading
the novel To Kill a Mockingbird, I’ve played with Scout and Jem and
Dill in Maycomb, Alabama. I didn’t like them looking for Boo Radley,
the town boogeyman. No! Will Atticus save me? Defend me? Protect me
from my boogeymen?
I listen for the sound of my
husband’s car. Looking out now and then, I see only the tall walls
surrounding our villa and the dusty tan sky above. A burning
sensation travels down over my swollen, pregnant belly as I swallow,
drowning and intensifying my fear. I exert myself to stand up and
waddle to the rows of books. I return To Kill a Mockingbird and
randomly take my next read from the shelf. Settling in my chair, I
open Love Story. I read, finding refuge with Oliver and Jennifer on
campus in wintry New England.
Two years ago, my world was
turned inside out. I was traumatized, full of terror, bewilderment,
frustration, and despair. Alcohol seemed to make my days livable. I
couldn’t breathe without it. Then, within weeks, I crossed some
invisible line. From that point on, no matter how hard I tried and
vowed to do things differently tomorrow, I could not quit drinking.
I had been trying to stop since I started.
Meeting up with Allan last
year seemed a Godsend. While home on holiday from his work in the
Middle East, Allan looked me up. He was the same steady adoring guy
that he was in high school, and though I was obviously shaken up I
still had that girlish energy and wildness that had always attracted
him. We shared special memories, like riding the school bus
together, dancing at Prom, competing in high school Forensics
tournaments, and parking in the secluded spot on Almond Road,
kissing and more.
He had gone away to college,
getting his undergraduate degree in Geology. I stayed behind in
Libertyville, a village between Chicago and Milwaukee, falling
through the Midwest hippie cracks in the early 70’s. Ever since
then, whenever one form of intoxication or bizarre behavior caused
me problems, I was always able to switch to another. This drinking
thing had grabbed a hold of me though and wouldn’t let go.
I was sure that my marriage to
Allan and subsequent move to Kuwait where he worked would be the
solution. I thought living in the abstinence-based society where
alcohol is banned would be my way out, but cheerful expatriate wives
were anxious to share their beer-brewing and wine-making recipes and
techniques. Allan was eager for me to begin this wifely duty, making
sure the designated ‘beer and wine room’ in our large villa was
always fully stocked.
I was given a hydrometer, and
it was easy to assemble everything else needed to begin. Fifty-six
liter garbage cans served as fermenting buckets and were in almost
constant use. Dozens and dozens of cases of one-and-one-half liter
bottles with hinged ceramic tops, all filled with wine and beer, are
stacked in tall rows.
The wine is very potent, over
twice the alcohol content of the beer, and it takes less time to be
ready to drink. Kuwaiti moonshine, “Flash,” is available here as
well. One of the American Women’s Leaguers left a gallon of it on
her Formica table last week. The Flash ate through the plastic
gallon jug and dissolved the Formica. I stay away from it. I have
enough trouble just drinking wine. Allan can have the beer. I’ll
stick to my wine. At first I mixed it half-and-half with 7-Up, and
then switched to mixing it with apple juice because it would, I
think, be more “healthy.” I guzzle. I can’t stop, but I try to slow
this cunning, baffling, powerful locomotive that is tearing through
my life.
The maid walks through the
room. She doesn’t even look over at me. Milgrina, her husband Manino
and their extended family live in the servant’s quarters adjoining
the villa. They do everything for me, except for most of the
cooking. I like to cook. It is what I do, besides read and drink. I
drink and cook. I don’t eat much. By the time the meal is ready, my
appetite is drowned. I fall into bed, unconscious to dreams, waking
every morning with a punishing hangover.
The baby rolls. My abdomen
surges in a wave. I read. I drink. I read, "Love means not ever
having to say you're sorry." Allan and I have our own love story.
Deny. Deny. Deny. That’s my MO. I deny everything, just to make sure
I’m covered. Only if necessary and for good measure, I apologize.
Then I do whatever it takes to make Allan happy. Our relationship is
working well.
The sounds of Allan’s car
driving up and coming to a stop snap me back from Jennifer’s
hospital bed, where she is dying in Oliver’s arms. I feel I am dying
too. I wonder if Allan knows I’m fading fast. I down my drink, lay
aside Love Story, and grab the bottles from the floor. The car door
slams. I move hurriedly to the kitchen and hide the bottles and
glass in a low cupboard. I take several quick bites from an apple. I
think this makes my breath normal. I work very hard to appear
normal.
Although they are capable of
speaking fluent English, the doctors are talking rapidly in Arabic,
interjecting every now and then a, “Mrs., not to worry.” But I am
very worried, terrified actually, have been for years, particularly
these past nine months.
I lie on my back while they
move an ultrasound scan-head around my mountainous belly. I catch
the word “cranium.” Head. Definitely something about the head. I
agonize. “Mrs., we have to get the baby now. It is breech. We must
induce the labor, get this baby out now. Not to worry.”
“My husband, please get my
husband!” “No, your husband will wait. Best he wait.” “I don’t want
any drugs! Please take care of my baby!”
I am put in a First Class room
at Al Salem Maternity Hospital. A pitocin drip is started to
stimulate contractions of my uterus. A rare desert thunderstorm
erupts outside. Crashes of thunder and bolts of lightning explode.
An occasional cat moseys into the room. The artificially induced
contractions are harsh and erratic. Excruciating hours pass.
Sunlight pours in through the
rain-washed window. I am wheeled to the surgical area. My body is
out of control; my soul lost in the abyss. The baby enters the world
feet first, little legs and arms flailing against my thighs. Time
passes. The flailing subsides, and then stops altogether. Much
later, delivery of my daughter is complete. Hydrocephalus. Cleft lip
and palate. Dead on arrival.
I am wheeled back to my room.
Allan walks in. We don’t speak. “I want to go home. Get me out of
here now.”
The next afternoon, I am at
home, in bed. Milgrina waits on me. Allan has gone back to the
hospital to handle necessary paperwork. I get out of bed only to go
to the bathroom or get a tumbler of wine. Not enough wine to make
the hurt go away. My body is racked with pain. The awful ache of
aloneness consumes me. My heart is broken. I am overcome with guilt
and fear. Torn apart and ripped to pieces, I miss my baby. I will
wait three months, get pregnant again, and have a healthy baby, I
vow. I am determined.
Allan enters the room, his
face ashen. He sits on the side of the bed. “Linda, I have something
to tell you. I have her with me, the baby.” What? I am shocked and
confused.
“We have to bury her
ourselves. I had to bring her home. She is wrapped in a sheet. I
have her on dry ice in one of your empty wine buckets.”
“What are you doing!”
“We have to bury her
ourselves. I found a little wooden box and some brass tacks, to make
a cross on the box.” He starts to cry. “The box will be lined with
satin.” Tears run down his cheeks. He struggles to speak, “but I
can’t find any satin.”
My heart breaks for him. “It’s
okay, Allan. It’s all right.” I vow to make things right.
I sit in my chair by the
window, as I do every afternoon, reading and drinking gooseberry
wine from a large tumbler. I listen for the sound of my husband’s
car. Looking out now and then, I see only the tall walls surrounding
our villa and the pale blue sky above. A burning sensation travels
down over my swollen, pregnant belly as I swallow, drowning and
intensifying my fear. I exert myself to stand up and waddle to the
rows of books, randomly pulling my next read from the shelf. One
more attempt - and one more failure. Can you understand?
After four years in Kuwait, I
return home to the United States. I am desperate for help, willing
to do anything to stop drinking.
I recall the stories my
parents told me when I was growing up, about my grandfather. He
couldn’t stop drinking. In 1949, several men from Alcoholics
Anonymous had come to his house in Alabama. From that day, he never
drank again. His life and that of my grandmother’s revolved around
A.A. until he died in 1974.
Alcoholics Anonymous is listed
the phonebook. I dial and shakily say, ”I need to go to A.A. What do
I do?”
That spring night, a Friday in
1986, I walk alone into my first meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous. I
am very afraid. "Help me, help me, help me," runs through my mind.
Spiritually bankrupt, my prayer is answered. I have not had a drink
since that evening. Life is good, incredibly so. Thank you, sweet
Alcoholics Anonymous.
Linda W.
The home that I was brought up
in was family of mixed religions. Mom was a Roman Catholic, Dad
was an American Baptist and my maternal Grandfather was a Methodist.
Her family was from the Portland area of Louisville and Dad's family
was from an exclusively Baptist community of Fairbanks, a very rural
farming hamlet in west central Indiana, about 30 miles more or less
south of Terre Haute. I endured all the Roman Catholic traditions of
the Saints, Incense and religious holidays and attended Dad's church
in Franklin, Indiana on more than one occasion, but never set foot
inside of a Methodist church until I was involved in Young Life
activities in college. I never really knew how to worship God, let
alone understood him. Therefore, I grew up knowing God as nothing
further than a ritual. It never sank in concretely that He was a
loving Supreme Being who cared very much about us as His children,
whether we did right or screwed up horribly. Especially since the
other god we beheld in our household and Mom’s family was Falls City
beer and the other bottles of booze as well.
I didn't come to really
understand Him until I became involved in a church in Indianapolis
and even that was a very long understanding process.
I knew that from birth on,
miracle after miracle occurred in my life, still I never really felt
any major connection with God, except for what was shown on TV, like
The Ten Commandments and so forth. These miracles included being
arrested for Public Indecency in 1977 and having all the charges
dropped, having accomplished many feats considered unthinkable for a
disabled person and so on. Yet, despite all, my drinking continued,
even on the weekends, on and off campus at Franklin College where I
was a student. It got especially bad in my junior year when I
consumed reefers, beer and 1/5 of Mad Dog 20/20. Things calmed down
for awhile and I thought things were turning themselves around and I
felt I was making that happen. If God was “pitching in,” I was
oblivious to it.
All of this changed in 1996.
On April 10, 1996, I was en route to my job as an Associate
Healthcare Provider at a group home for, ironically, Substance
Abusers and Chronically Mentally Ill. Although I had previously
worked on the Addictions unit in a hospital in Indianapolis, nothing
was fazing me still. In any case, I was already recuperating from a
horrific cold and had been having problems with both my minister and
my partner.
As I got just on the edge of
Danville, I blacked out. I was behind the wheel and found somehow I
had stopped at an intersection 2 blocks from work with my left foot
on the brake and right foot on the gas. The radio was still on and
so was the turn signal. After the car behind me honked, I ventured
forward. There was no damage anywhere. When I got to work, I found
out I had to drive to another community to help a guest get her
stuff from her family home for an overnight stay.
When I got back to the group
home and dinner was over and clean-up chores were done, I called my
partner at the time and told him to remind me to call the doctor
when I got up in the morning. He asked why. I told him I think I had
a seizure en route to work. He picked me up and drove me home at the
end of my shift.
We applied for SSD shortly
thereafter. The following July, he and I split up. The following
August, after we were both cruising the personals in the paper, I
found myself being directed to an ad for someone in Columbus,
Indiana. We spent the weekend with the man who posted that ad, and
his friends who were stoned on pot and Jack Daniels. Our host was
taking Neurontin (an anti-inflammatory/anti-convulsant, on top of it
all. Though I didn't consume any of the other two, it was as though
God had a reason for me to be there and it was for me to be the
outsider looking in. My host showed me what could happen if I did
foolishly decide to mix it all together. My ex and I fought tooth
and nail the entire 50 miles en route home.
I got sober, and over the next
12 years I learned about the third step. I learned that God was my
Protector. But I also learned that He puts people together for a
reason although we may never know that reason except through our own
personal experiences. The person I am seeing now is also an addict,
alcoholic and schizo-affective, but for someone who is mentally ill,
I still feel in many ways he makes more sense than a lot of people
I’ve met.
They say that you can't teach
an old dog new tricks. Well, for this old dog, so to speak, I feel
that what we learn from each other in this Third Step, we teach each
other too. And I am forever grateful for knowing that God is there
as not only my Guide and my Protector but also my friend.
Larry D.
Louisville, KY
I just knew I was ready to
start my 4th step before I ever acquired a sponsor, actually. I was
physically sober about 2 or 3 weeks when I blurted out in a meeting
one day, “So, what do I need to do to get this mystical 4th step
started?” Two guys turned and looked at me simultaneously and
replied, “Get a sponsor and do the first 3 steps with her.”
Obviously, they didn’t know who they were dealing with. I’d always
been self-motivated and had mental fortitude that most of these AA’s
didn’t possess, if they needed a sponsor to do this thing. But after
the meeting I talked to the two guys who’d answered my question, and
there happened to be a lady sitting there who agreed to sponsor me,
so I thought I’d humor them all and ‘go along with the program.’
My sponsor and I started
getting together every Tuesday night before her home group meeting
and reading from the Big Book, line by line, word for word. I faked
a lot of enthusiasm during this time since (I thought) I’d already
done the first three steps (in my head at night after the meetings).
I didn’t go to treatment and worked every day on a few hours sleep,
pretty much just shaking, smoking cigarettes and reading the same
page over and over in the Big Book, night after night. Like I said,
I thought I’d already done the first three steps. I mean, how hard
could that be? Even the old guys said in the meetings that the first
three steps are just conclusions we have to come to accept in our
hearts. The action part of the program really doesn’t start until
the 4th step.
Anyway, after about 3 months
of reading and talking and ‘establishing a firm spiritual
foundation,’ I got kind of tired of not getting this searching and
fearless moral inventory show on the road! I think my sponsor was
just messing with me, stalling and just messing with me. On that
particular Wednesday night, she said to me once again, “You’re not
there yet,” referring to my lack of readiness to turn my will and
life over to the care of God. So I went home, madder than hell at
her for not realizing my spiritual growth.
When I returned home the phone
rang and it was my daughter’s father who had primary custody at the
time. I really hated him, to the point of plotting his murder on a
regular basis. Since coming to AA, I had made a concerted effort to
treat him like a child of God and was doing a fair job of not
treating him badly, which was my usual.
The call was supposed to be a
time to set up the time and place to meet and drop our daughter off
to spend the weekend with me. I only got to see her every three
weeks at that time. Then he dropped the bomb that he couldn’t get
away that weekend and I’d just have to wait until my next scheduled
visit. (6 weeks from our last visit!) When the full impact of what
he said hit me, I went off, like in the old drinking days, and
cussed him and brought up everything he’d ever done to me or my
child from day one of our relationship. I’m not sure who did the
hanging-up, but it was a loud disconnection, to say the least. I
really needed a drink at that moment, more so than thus far in my
short time in sobriety.
Luckily, I had been saying the
3rd Step prayer every morning and night for several weeks and it was
all I could think of to come between me and the car keys at the
time. The drive-up window of the liquor store was still open for
another 15 minutes. So, I got on my knees and said that prayer one
more time, ending with, “Please God, take this hate out of my heart!
I cannot live with it anymore and stay sober.”
I said a prayer for my ex and
for me and for our child that somehow God would get us through this.
When I got up from the side of my bed, that hate I had harbored and
nurtured for at least 3 years was gone--just gone and it hasn’t
returned to this day. I still get upset with him and disagree, but
that hate has not come into my thoughts, much less my heart ever
since I asked God to take it away.
That was when the 3rd step
came alive and engulfed my soul, so that I can believe that He can
restore me to sanity on a daily basis. I figure if He can do that,
He can do anything and I mean ANYTHING! Guess what? He has done the
same kind of spectacular things on a regular basis ever since and it
never surprises me, but it never ceases to amaze me either. That
same man who I hated with every fiber of my being, the one I plotted
to murder, he and his soon-to-be wife attended my wedding about 18
months after that night when I took the 3rd step on the floor by my
bed. That same man accepted my amends and hugged me at our
daughter’s high school graduation. See, if He can do that for me, He
can do it for each and every one of us drunks!!
-Anonymous
My name is Gwen and I am
an alcoholic in every sense of the word. The third step terrified
me. Who me, turn my will and my life over to whom? How could I
possibly do that? I was angry with God. How could I ask Him to take
my will and life and do whatever. My life was over. I was sick and
tired of hurting. And I said I’d go to any lengths to stay sober
didn’t I?
This is what I said to God,
“God I know that you know I am mad at you for taking my mother
away.” I struggled with this step for a while. I was told by my
sponsor, it was a decision on my part and faith was all that was
required. So I decided to test God, if He would help me tell my
biggest, darkest secret to someone, I would give Him a shot.
I asked. He did. I was afraid
but did it anyway because more than anything in the world I wanted
this thing called sobriety. Later it dawned on me God hadn’t
demanded that I do something that He would not help me with. I’ve
not looked back since. Being who I am I have to put my hands in the
situation before I ask God for help. I trust my Higher Power today.
The one thing I do know about my Higher Power is that He thinks He
is a comedian. Thanks for letting me share.
It’s very interesting that
this subject came to me by way of the internet. It all happened by
way of being on a Twelve Step Call.
I had been chatting online
with a potential A.A. that was 120 miles away for months and even
felt comfortable to share my personal story due to the openness in
our conversations. We would share openly what life was like and how
fun it was plus how unmanageable it was even with the special twists
that only an A.A. can identify with.
Well, there came a period of
time when I got disconnected on the web from this person. Then the
person contacted me again indicating a lower bottom than before;
that this person was detoxing with no air conditioner while the
partner was out of state, and did I think A.A. could help?
I called a dear friend more
appropriate than I to go pay a visit to this potential AA, and ya
know what my twelve step partner did in the parking lot before we
knocked on the door? The Third Step Prayer. I was asked to voice the
prayer in unison yet opted to stay shy, reserved and silent; most of
all in observation of the worth of the Third Step Prayer instead of
a Twelfth Step Prayer. The Twelve Step call went as God wanted, my
partner getting real honest on the level of the suffering one, with
me being back up to keep my friend honest, open and willing through
the tuff moments of discussion. We ended the visit with phone
numbers exchanged and expressed a willingness to go to a meeting
that evening.
My Twelve Step partner called
me for the next few nights in amazement of what had really happened.
I thought it was a regular Twelve Step visit. My T.S. partner also
told me that I put myself out there (with suffering people), and I
responded “HP is in charge taking care of me.” Yet later found I had
been given something I was unknowingly missing. By becoming willing
to give away what had been so freely been passed on to me, AA’s
Program solution to the obsession to drink, a bigger consciousness
had been passed on this time. An opening had happened inside me. It
is said that this program is one of attraction, and we clean up
pretty darn well. That had a lot to do with the attraction and most
of all the actions of my Twelve Step Partner. The decision was not a
decision at all; it was the next step to becoming a responsible
Alcoholics Anonymous Member. On this basis I find life so much
easier to live. Given a choice my brain spends lots of time on
dancing around the wrong choice instead of keeping it simple and
going with what is for us all to do, God’s Will.
After being semi-retired for 7
years, I found myself responding during a job interview to the
question: “What gets you up at the start of the day?” To say “being
sober” was too much for me, so I pointed UP. The interviewer said
“Faith.” And I agreed. THIS is a profound change for this Alkie that
had expelled any thought of God.
We can do easier, what I try
to do alone.
Bruce W.D. ‘The Goose’
Using the
available tools, in the order they have been formed is amazing.
I had been in a recovery
facility before and did not utilize the tools. This time I came in
tired, wanting a life and realizing that I had missed something.
Before starting on the steps I came to the conclusion that I would
consider myself a blank page. I didn’t know anybody or anything. I
was sincerely starting over. At that point, the edge of my letting
go, miraculous things began to happen. I prayed for an
acknowledgement of my higher power’s presence and got it.
I was in a homeless shelter
that depended on donations and didn’t always have the best food. I
wanted eggs for breakfast and the monitor there laughed at me, but
we had a donation of eggs the previous night and there was the first
nudge of my prayer being answered. At lunch I made a comment about
salad, with a similar response from the staff, yet we had salad that
day. At supper time I told a sister in sobriety that turkey was my
favorite meat and there it was on the steam table. Then, my daughter
came in with a message from my Mom and a gift--the person who had
given me life made the first mark on my blank page. It was an
overwhelming feeling of finally doing the right thing. I was in the
right place to start living. I never asked for my life back, due to
the fact that I had never had a life. I started using substances
when I was 13 years old, had dibbled and dabbed before that.
I WAS 49 WHEN I FINALLY CAME
TO MY SENSES. I have been born again. The spiritual part of the
program is taken for granted a lot of the time, but the third step
has illuminated me. It brought me out of the darkness into the
marvelous light. Not only can I see the light at the end of the
tunnel, but I have a light around me to lead me through (the ones
who came before me). I still have to pay attention to where I walk
for there are always going to be obstacles on the path. Step three
is a freedom step. It’s the step that releases us. Step three is the
breaking point, where finally I know that it’s not what I can do or
how can I fix this, it’s the step that builds faith and confidence
in living-REBIRTH. It’s also the step that makes me realize I’m not
alone, I’m not the creator and it’s okay to rely on God and my
ancestors in sobriety.
Ellen S., Kentucky
It didn’t take a lot of coaxing this time for me to become willing
to change. I’d been in recovery before and I’d tried my way time
and time again, with the end result being self-destruction. I had
been raised in a church, but didn’t believe that was the answer for
me. Yet, when I got to the homeless shelter it seemed like there was
something or someone haunting me.
As I began to come to my
senses I realized that the spirit was trying to reopen a closed door
of my life. It took me back to when I was a child and played back
some old tapes of my past. As I started reading in the big book and
going to recovery classes, things got clearer and clearer as to what
I needed to do. I needed to let go and let God. It left me to
acknowledge that there is no other way. I’d tried everything else. I
used drugs, alcohol and people, but none of those filled the
emptiness within. I am an educated person and I had often looked to
that for relief from my agonies, but I could never figure out or
calculate a formula to remedy my ailments. Once I made the decision
to turn my will over to God, whom I’ll never understand, things
started to fall into place and I began to see for the first time how
I am supposed to treat myself and fellow mankind. Through this
process of taking instructions from A. A. I have a whole new concept
for everything.
When I finally did let go and
started to listen to those who have walked before me, my life
changed like I would have never believed was possible. My attitude
of love and sharing is miraculous. I was always self-centered, now I
love to help others. I look forward to going to meetings, which I
originally thought was some kind of cult for mind washing. Evidently
something has changed on the outside of me too, because now people
actually invite me to come around, whereas before nobody wanted me
in their presence, unless it was for the wrong thing (which I was
good at doing).
Today I wake up lifting praise
to my higher power, God, without whom I could do nothing. The third
step is the doorway to a life that I thought was for others, but has
been graciously granted to me. Step three is the key to a new being
within the shell of a once lost spirit. The third step can give
peace and release agony in all dimensions of sobriety. Try it, don’t
just read it and work it on paper, actually try it in your
encounters of issues through this journey called life. Step three
opens up a treasure box of rewards, use it, share it and be grateful
for it.
E.S.
My first tries at the third
step were not too successful. I could make a decision for the moment
to turn my will and life over to the care of God as I understood
him. It didn’t have any lasting effect. (Much like my New Year’s
resolutions.) It may be like the riddle: If three frogs are sitting
on a log over a creek, and one makes a decision to jump, how many
are left on the log? The answer is three. The frog only made a
decision. He didn’t jump.
The fourth through the
eleventh steps gave me the willingness to actually ‘jump.’
In the beginning, perhaps we
should not be so hard on ourselves when we turn our will over and
then take it back. It’s hard for me to give up that keenly developed
will that got me into the program to begin with.
Yes, my will runs my life
until I act on the willingness to turn it over. All my defects of
character remain firmly in place. Though I have stopped drinking, my
defects of character remain firmly in charge, excused through a
thousand excuses.
It took me eight years to get
through the rest of the steps. Not a very serene eight years.
My hat is off to those of you
who have “arrived” through the third step alone. It will be
interesting to see. How did you do that???
Joe S.
Made a decision to turn our
will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood him.
(Reprinted from The Big Book, Alcoholics Anonymous, pg. 59, with
permission of A.A. World Services, Inc.)
Being convinced that we were
at step 3, just what do we mean by that and what do we do?
The first requirement is that
we be convinced that any life ran on self-will can hardly be a
success. On that basis we are almost always in collision with
something or somebody, even though our motives are good. Most people
try to live by self-propulsion. Each person is like an actor who
wants to run the whole show; is forever trying to arrange the
lights, the ballet, the scenery and the rest of the players in his
own way. If his arrangements would only stay put, if only people
would do as he wished, the show would be great. Everybody, including
himself, would be pleased. Life would be wonderful. In trying to
make these arrangements our actor may sometimes be quite virtuous.
He may be kind, considerate, patient, generous; even modest and
self-sacrificing. On the other hand, he may be mean, egotistical,
selfish and dishonest. But, as with most humans, he is more likely
to have varied traits. (Reprinted from The Big Book, Alcoholics
Anonymous, pg. 60-61, with permission of A.A. World Services, Inc.)
Step 3 prayer: God, I offer
myself to thee to build with me and do with me as thou wilt. Relieve
me of the bondage of self, that I may better do thy will. Take away
my difficulties, that victory over them may bare witness to those I
would help of Thy Power, Thy Love, Thy way of life. May I do Thy
will always. Amen. (Reprinted from The Big Book, Alcoholics
Anonymous, pg. 63, with permission of A.A. World Services, Inc.)
R.T.
“God, I offer myself to Thee-
to build with me and to do with me as Thou wilt. Relieve me of the
bondage of self, that I may better do Thy will. Take away my
difficulties, that victory over them may bear witness to those I
would help of Thy power, Thy love, and Thy way of life. May I do
Thy will always!” (Reprinted from The Big Book, Alcoholics
Anonymous, pg. 63, with permission of A.A. World Services, Inc.)
At about
6 months (May of 1989) I was going to meet some high school friends
for lunch. It had been 16 years since I had seen or had a
conversation with these women. At this short time in AA, self-will
run riot controlled my life. Being full of fear about this lunch
date, I called my sponsor. She suggested for me to pray for God’s
will to be done at the luncheon. When I knelt down beside my bed
that morning, I felt God’s presence in my bedroom while praying. As
I brought my head up from a bowing position, the sunlight coming
through the window was a bright golden glow around my bed. The
Spiritual awakening impacted my decision to turn my life over to the
care of God. I had never felt such a calming effect before. From
that morning forward I had a God of my understanding from I never
felt before in my heart and Soul.
After a
year sobriety my sponsor suggested I get into a women’s step group.
When the group began writing about the third step, I realized a
psychic change began to occur for me. We as a group knelt down
together to pray the third step prayer. I once again felt God’s
presence in my heart and soul. Nine months later our group finished
the 12 steps. From doing intensive writing on the twelve steps, I
felt like I had risen out of the pit of Hell and was reborn into a
new person. I continued to say the third step prayer in the morning
along with my meditation books.
However,
throughout my later years of sobriety, I did not continue to
practice saying the third step prayer. Somewhere along my years of
sobriety, the third step prayer got put aside. Saying “Thy will be
done” was the easier quicker was to pray. Guess what? Two years
ago God saw fit through my husband’s sponsor, who gave him the third
step prayer card. My husband and I say the third step prayer every
morning together before reading our meditation books. For me, this
prayer surrenders my life to God every morning.
My name
is Jill D.
I am a
alcoholic
From Rough
River, Ky.
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