prayer and the universally accepted benefits to be derived from it. I also remembered such phrases as “in God's own time” and “all things cometh to him who waits”—but I wanted my request for restoration of sanity to be stamped “To God for immediate action.” With that thought in mind, I really believe I sat back and waited for the flash of lightning and the peal of thunder heralding a spiritual awakening.
Up to this time, my prayers had consisted of half-hearted attempts for relief from my hangovers, from financial strain due to drinking and from marital difficulties brought on by my folly. However, I began to pray in earnest. At first, haltingly, ill-worded and selfishly, but ever so earnestly and sincerely, I laid bare my sins and misspent life. I gave vent to my fears and frustrations, my trials and tribulations, praying that if there ever was a stupid fool who needed help, I was that fool.
Still, I could see or feel no change in myself or my attitudes. I kept coming to AA. Each time I went to a meeting, I insisted to myself that this would be the last time. Later, as each “last one” went by, I finally found myself looking forward to the next “last meeting.” And so I have come to accept the Second Step, and to see that through staying in AA, sanity has been restored. I think I'm a better man for the struggle to understand.
J.S.
Walla Walla, Washington
Sanity
March 1981
Around the tables, Step Two cannot be emphasized too much, not only to newcomers, but to all AAs. Clearly, the chief mark of restoration to sanity is our not taking the first drink. No matter what else happens to us, as long as we refrain from the first drink, our lives will get better.
I realize the problems and solutions in my present life may well appear to be madcap, but I know a Power greater than myself is aiding me to carve out a better life. The change from the absolute madness in those tormented years of active alcoholism has been gradual, rather than sudden. When an inventory is taken, I perceive definite transformations—but in reality, they have been slowly coming all along.
I try now to explain frankly that I have problems with my thinking. (And I suspect most AAs have and will continue to have such problems.) But there is a difference: Today, I recognize the unreasonableness of much of my thinking or, more accurately, my responses to others. For me, there is a direct coupling of the Tenth Step and Step Two. The more sanity, the quicker the admission that I am wrong. It is much easier today to get rid of overreaction at the thought level before it becomes a spoken word and then a physical act.
Now, I can see that sanity is steadily being restored to me so that I can use the other Steps to greater advantage.
Sanity Clause
February 1982
The “sanity clause” in my “contract” with AA simply tells me that if I want to maintain my sobriety, I must go to any length to keep my mental attitude constantly aimed toward sound, rational thinking in all my affairs, one day at a time.
If anyone had told me thirty years ago that AA would come to mean basically that to me, I would have thrown up my hands and said, “What an order! I can't go through with it.” As it has turned out, however, from the day—November 16, 1950—when I first came into contact with AA, it has been my privilege to be an active member. For this, I am truly grateful.
The word sanity had very little meaning to me during my early years in AA. When the occasion arose to discuss Step Two, we would talk about the word insanity, but little time was spent on sanity. Someone usually set the theme by telling about his or her insane escapades, and then each of us in turn would follow by recalling our own insane acts. Sometimes, it would take on the appearance of a contest, the object being to see who could out-insane the other members.
Then, one night after a Step Two meeting, I decided to find out what those courageous early members who put our Twelve Steps together really meant by sanity. I was a little surprised to find that my dictionary defined it as the quality of being sound of mind, sound of judgment, reasonable and rational in one's thoughts. I was further surprised to find that the definition of sanity did not even mention insanity. As I sat there mulling over the definition, an idea occurred to me: “This is what I'm to be restored to—sound, reasonable, rational thinking.”
Since that time, I have used my dictionary to check on the meaning of other words in our Twelve Steps, our Traditions, and the first part of the fifth chapter of the Big Book. I find that this gives clearer meaning to my program as a whole. This habit of checking the meanings of words has caught on with other members. One of our women members even donated a fine dictionary to our group, to be used along with our Big Book and other AA material.
W.H.
Shenandoah, Iowa
An Indescribable Benevolence
August 1992
“Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.” What does this Step mean to me, a woman with just nine months of sobriety in AA behind her? What was my process of “coming to believe,” and in what way do I feel I am being “restored”?
At first I had to take this Step on faith alone. I knew I believed; but I did not begin to understand. Why would God bother with someone who had misused her energies, squandered opportunities, bruised the hearts of loved ones and ridden alcohol like a runaway horse to the gates of insanity and the brink of death?
Slowly I began to realize that “why” was the wrong question. One day when I was about three months sober, a quiet gentleman spoke up at my noon meeting and delivered a message which seemed to have my name written all over it. He said that we need only ask ourselves “how”—and that this question could be answered by three simple words: “honesty, open-mindedness, and willingness.”
I was desperate enough to try anything—even follow directions. I began to share at meetings as honestly as I was able. The pain and ugliness that poured forth from those dark recesses within appalled me, but to my amazement, no one judged. My worst confessions were received with tenderness and even a certain reassuring humor. I began to see that all of us had suffered in many different ways, and that I was hardly unique in experiencing that terrible sense of being "in disgrace.”
But wasn't “dis-grace” the opposite of God's grace, God's blessing, God's love? As I strove to keep an open mind, or at least to prevent the door from completely slamming shut, more things were revealed to me. My own active role in forsaking God became all too apparent. It seemed that I had “disgraced” myself, not so much through the recklessly hurtful actions I committed in my drunkenness, but in closing myself off from the infinite, mysterious how of divine love.
In opening my mind to new ways of loving and being (and sometimes, in my willingness, I could only manage the merest crack), I felt the gentle infusion of an indescribable benevolence. It was as if, in spite of myself, unconditional love insisted on streaming in through that crack in the door and filling the aching void, the God-shaped space in my heart. I felt his love in the embraces of fellow AA members, I witnessed his grace in the serenity shining from their eyes, and in the rollicking laughter which sometimes threatens to lift the roof at my home group meetings; I heard the music of recovery.
Willingness was simply given to me. I began to feel that my feet were keeping me sober; they unfailingly took me to a meeting even when the rest of me screamed in protest. As this willingness was planted in me and slowly, haltingly grew, I began to feel the subtle dawning of an amazing inner light: a sense that I was being restored.
How could God do this? Had I ever really been sane—and
