I went to an AA meeting last night where I spoke a couple of Sat's ago. It is a meeting whose membership is often very blue collar, rough-around-the-edges, yet very REAL. As some say in the rooms, it's a place where "they keep it green". People are not hesitant to share what is really going on, like the details of how seduced they became by a thought of a drink or how they have made themselves crazy with their alcoholic thinking.
One woman, who I've never seen before, shared how she's been in AA now for a little over a year and how the pink cloud is long gone. She feels as dissatisfied in the meetings as she did in the bar, so a drink is looking pretty good right now. She questioned the suffering of the world, if God actually exists and what the hell is there to be grateful for and please don't anyone tell her to be thankful for her breath or she's gonna punch you out. I believe she was quite serious about that threat too !
Normally after a meeting like this, I would exit quickly and head to my car. I stayed and I waited to talk to that woman who shared. I thanked her for being so honest and for naming exactly where she is. Her response to me was: "So what do I do now? Is this all there is? How can there be a God when so many people are in pain, including me?" I had no answer, just a nod, a slight smile, and an enormous light emanating from my being to hers. I finally did say to her this: "These questions you have are so alive! Stay here and then see what happens!" She gave a little smile back and then asked me to walk outside with her so she could light up a cigarette. I knew deep inside that if she's asking questions of God and God's actions, then she is absolutely in relationship with God. She just doesn't see that right now. Should I say this to her? I wait awhile as she smokes. A couple more people stand with us and they smoke too. I usually have no tolerance for this, yet this time I just adjust myself and back up a few feet so I don't get consumed by the fumes. Others tell her that they relate to her and how the 1st year or so is hard and that it gets easier. She's having trouble taking it in and then gives herself an exit. Many of us tell her to keep coming back and try new meetings, meet new people. She yells back: "I think I will!"
As we all begin to head to our cars, a woman I see at a couple other meetings walks with me. She normally has a scowl on her face and appears very unapproachable. We stop near our cars and she says to me: "I like listening to you. You seem really connected to God." I am taken aback. She goes on: "It was hard for me to hear tonight how the speaker was suicidal and then 2 others spoke about that too. You know my husband was the one in our fellowship who shot himself last year." My heart sinks. I feel sick inside ... not because she's sharing this, but because I never knew that she was his wife. It happened close to this time last year and many of us were shocked at the news. We were told that he left behind a wife and a son who were both in AA. I never knew it was her. Everything came together in a flash and I understood now what must have been going on inside and how I judged her from the outside. She continued to talk and it started to rain lightly and she asked if it was too much and I said "No, not at all" and she poured out her guts. She told me of how they met and how he began to dabble in prescription meds after a back injury. And then came the psych hospitalizations. And then thoughts of suicide. She never thought he would carry it out. She was the one to find him and she recalls calling her sponsor and how she was brought to a meeting that very night. As she spoke, I saw her strength and all that she'd been carrying. It was she who initiated an intervention for her son and now he's a thriving member of AA. And she continues to have faith. Amid all of this tragedy, she said that while she could relate to the other woman who shared, she's never questioned God's presence and plan for her. She said she'd pray for that woman. I was awestruck by the end of our conversation. We hugged and then parted as the rain got harder.
This is what we do in AA and as compassionate human beings: we hold the light around another until they can shimmer on their own like the stars that they are.
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