block into a stepping-stone.”
I examined my motives. Had I chosen the human services field for recognition? Was I looking to inflate my ego? Or did I have an honest desire to help those in need? I thought about my time as a counselor in the army. Although I frequently received commendations, I realized that my real reward came the moment I saw the light of hope replace the look of despair in a soldier’s eyes.
I prayed and meditated again, asking God for direction. How could I serve his will rather than my own?
That same night, I got a phone call from a longtime acquaintance in the Fellowship. It was three o’clock in the morning, and she was in a hopeless state of despair. I got dressed and drove to her house. We sat at her kitchen table and talked for more than three hours. Now, that’s what I call a fast response from my Higher Power!
I suddenly understood that even in bed I could answer my phone. I knew our local AA hotline had trouble getting volunteers. Calls were forwarded from the intergroup office to a member’s home phone, or even a cell phone. Because I wasn’t working, I was available twenty-four hours a day.
I got a glimpse of God’s will for me: I could be a hand of AA. I made it known—especially to newcomers—that I was available twenty-four hours a day. Happily, I reached out to newcomers, sponsees, and even some of those who had been sober for “a few twenty-four hours.”
Not only do I feel useful and productive again, I also feel that I am carrying out God’s will, which is not too different from my own. Sometimes we get what we ask for, but not always in the way we imagine. The stumbling block of an inability to work became a stepping-stone to doing what I love best—helping those in a state of crisis.
If I have learned anything from this experience, it’s to have faith and look for clues to the will of my Higher Power. I also need to keep my ego out of the way and let God drive the bus. I do it one day at a time, one step at a time—even if the stepping-stone at first looks like a stumbling block.
ED S.
Scranton, Pennsylvania
No Reason to Drink February 1995
(From Dear Grapevine)
I’ve been in AA for nearly two years. In the beginning, I couldn’t understand why people were always saying that they were sober “by the grace of God.” Now, after going through some rough times, I’ve learned a lot.
In June of 1994, I got very sick and found out I had full-blown AIDS; I had not known I was HIV positive. I lost weight rapidly, going from 168 to 139 pounds in two weeks. At that point, the Third Step came to me right away. I turned my life and will over to the care of God as I understood him. And you know, things do get better.
Now I have two diseases, one being alcoholism and the other being AIDS. But there is still no reason for me to drink!
LARRY E.
Pahrump, Nevada
The Littlest Things May 1997
(Excerpt)
When I poured out my last bottle—what I pray was my last bottle—I again trembled with fear. In my heart, I knew that if my multiple sclerosis (MS) got worse, I’d surely drink myself into the ground. No one would dare to stop me. After all, if my MS got worse, I would deserve to drink.
MS is a chronic, disabling, and incurable neurological disease that steals from its victims many physical abilities most people take for granted. It’s particularly cruel in that it steals these things sporadically, and then if one is lucky, it just as sporadically gives them back, until the next exacerbation. MS has taught me to thank God for things that most people take for granted: the ability to see, to speak, to walk, even the ability to go to the bathroom.
In the summer of 1995, my worst nightmare came true. The symptoms got so bad that I was no longer able to perform my job. Within weeks, I got worse and for the first time in my life, I was actively suicidal. My rage at God soared. Sobbing uncontrollably, I screamed at God, “Why have you abandoned me?”
Initially, I had a burning resentment against anyone with strong legs. My anger served as an iron shield, and I refused to remove it for fear God would send me still more pain.
I didn’t want to ask for help. I wanted everyone to marvel at how stoically I coped with adversity; and I hated to bother people. I figured they were too busy doing more important things with far more important people than me. But without a drink, it’s tough to be stoic. Once I was able to swallow my pride and pick up that hundred-pound telephone, I discovered that there were a few people in AA who actually cared about me. For example, when MS affected my ability to drive to meetings, a friend gave me a lift.
Much to my amazement, I survived that summer from hell and have regained some of the physical abilities I lost. Every morning, I thank God for the ability to see my partner and my cats, to hear the birds outside my window and to hobble over to my meditation chair, where I start the day with a prayer.
Eventually, I realized that God hadn’t abandoned me at all but that I’d abandoned him. Yesterday, missing my old body, I burst into tears for the umpteenth time and tasted that old craving for a bottle of wine. Just go to the liquor store and get a bottle, I told myself. It will make everything feel better.
Instead, I picked up the phone and called my sponsor, even though I knew she was at work. Sometimes it’s easier for me to talk to an answering machine. Then, because I still wanted to drink, I picked up the phone again and called another friend, who was able to talk on the job.
I’ve never taken my sobriety for granted because I know I’m only one drink away from ruining my life. Having MS can be hard some days, but doing it sober usually makes it tolerable one day at a time. Each day, I ask God for serenity to accept the unacceptable. The Big Book never promised me a life without problems (although I still keep looking for it between the lines).
If anyone had told me I’d still be sober despite MS, I would have thrown a drink in their face. Learning to live life on life’s terms—not on my terms—has been the ultimate miracle. If you’re new or coming back, don’t quit before your own miracle happens.
MARSHA Z.
Jamaica Plain, Massachusetts
Loving Arms November 2004
(From Dear Grapevine)
In reference to “The Band Played On” (June 2004), I have been HIV+ for almost twenty-five years and have been living with AIDS since 1995. I got sober in AA in 1998. My fear was that being a gay man with HIV, I was doomed to be left out and alone with both my diseases. However, over the past six years, AA has provided every need that has come up for me both in sobriety and in my AIDS situation. I have been close to death over five times in the past six years and literally hundreds of AA members have come to my side bearing unconditional love and acceptance. I have had married men come to stay with me for two to three days at a time and feed me, change my bed clothes, and bathe me when I could barely sit up in bed. I have never wanted nor needed anything that an AA member wasn’t willing to supply me. AA also provided the most loving and caring man as a live-in attendant to assist me when I have seizures. One mens’ meeting has an “Everett” commitment, which means that I never have to find a ride to a meeting. So I don’t fear for the future, because I am in the loving
