Miraculous ...

BIRD + Coínco VI región
Originally uploaded by Hugo Provoste
Tonight I strayed from my home group, as I really wanted to hear the story of a man who is considered an "old-timer" and who is well-respected. He spoke tonight at the same group I attend on Mon night's for the Big Book.

There is something that I cannot put my finger on specifically, though I know it when I feel it, about the deep spirituality that is found in meetings which are primarily attended by African-Americans. I was 1 of 2 Caucasians and the only woman there tonight. It was a treat to take a seat there and to feel the anticipation and the buzz in the room for the story that was to be shared with us.

The speaker's very first line, directed to every person in the room, was that each one of us who walks through the doors of AA is a miracle. And the fact that he could sit before us, with 35 + years of continuous sobriety was indeed a miracle, given his low bottom entry into the program.

He shared with us that he drank to numb the pain of having been repeatedly molested as a young boy. He suffered tremendous shame about this, questioning whether or not he was a true "man" as a result. When he drank, he tried to prove his manhood through his sexual prowess and admitted that he has fathered 17 children. This was not something he boasted about; it was the reality of what happened because of his alcoholism and his deeply-rooted fears about not being a real man because of what happened to him.

His drinking began in the early teens and continued until he was 40. He lost countless jobs, the worst of which was as a fire-fighter where he arrived drunk to several calls and put his co-workers and others in grave jeaopardy because of his drunken state. It was this job, however, that sent him to a rehab within a psych hospital. He recalled how he was in a hospital gown, ass hanging out the back, and had uncontrollable diarrhea and nosebleeds as he detoxed. He asked them what would they give him (meaning medication) to help him stop drinking and he was told, we won't be giving you anything sir, you're going to attend meetings. He couldn't fathom how that could possibly help him in the slightest. He remembers his paralyzing fear and what it took to open his mouth. And how the counselors "broke him" . He thought they were mean, perhaps even racist until he later understood that they were, in fact, helping him save his life.

The speaker shared some great "gems" that were told to him in those early days that he has passed on to his sponsees over the years and shares with others at meetings. A humorous one was: "I thought I could drown my problems with drinking, but my problems got swimming lessons!" The other one I really liked was this one: "Our feelings are gonna come up whether or not we give them permission. So you might as well deal with 'em."

And here's the real miraculous part: this gentleman went on to get a Bachelor's and then a Master's degree and is the head addictions counselor at a state prison, where he openly shares his experience, strength and hope with the inmates who want to get sober. He feels this is what G-d meant for him to do all along. At the end, he proudly announced, that at the ripe age of 76, he was getting married tomorrow night on Christmas Eve. We all stood in applause.

Every time I am at a meeting, I am keenly more aware than the meeting before, that I and each one of us who makes it to the rooms and doesn't drink a day at a time, is indeed a miracle. I shudder, sometimes, thinking about where I've traveled from and, in my wildest dreams, I could not have pictured my life as it is now back then. And it begins with Bill W and Dr. Bob's meager beginnings. That because of the miracles each of them were, we too are given this second chance at living -- soberly, honestly, and humbly. I still think about college friends that I reunited with a number of years ago who had a good laugh at my expense about how they would wonder what happened to me and guessed either that I was in a mental institution or homeless. If that isn't a sobering reality, I don't know what is.

And what I think about all the time is the miracle of how some of us "got it" and had the hand of G-d grab hold and pull us out of the muck of our alcoholic lives and that some folks never make it. Many are homeless or in jail or in mental institutions or they die. What did G-d have in store for those of us who got sober versus for those who don't make it ? I don't believe I'll ever know the answer to that question, for it is not for me to know. It's between G-d and them. What I am to be most concerned with, on the other hand, is that I was given this opportunity for a re-birth, that my journey is G-d's will for me and that I have a purpose and a reason to be here.

"I am a miracle"  does not leave very much squeezing-in room for "Woe is me".   It is the resounding cry of pure awe and celebration of my life,  rather than the tears of self-pity.    "I am a miracle" is the reason and the reminder upon waking that the first thing to hit the floor is my knees instead of my feet so I can give thanks to G-d for another day,  here and alive and open to do G-d's will.  "I am a miracle"  is the mantra that will allow me to be in each moment, each interaction and each situation with gratitude and appreciation.  Lightening usually doesn't strike twice in the same spot. And if I take that first drink, I may not be given another chance.   

What will keep me sober, one day at a time, is always remembering that I am a miracle.