Читать книгу Came to Believe - Anonymous - Страница 11

I was in and around the Fellowship for three years, sometimes staying sober, sometimes cheating (myself, of course) a little or a lot. I loved A.A.—shook hands with everyone at every door at all meetings I attended, and they were many. I was a sort of A.A. hostess. Unfortunately, I still had a lot of trouble with me.

One member of my group used to say, “If you would just take the Third Step . . .” He might as well have been talking Dutch! I couldn’t understand. Although I had been an honor student at Sunday school, I had gotten far away from anything spiritual.

At one point, I did manage to stay physically sober for six months. Then I lost my job and, at fifty-four, was sure I would never get another. Very frightened and depressed, I just couldn’t face the future, and my stupid pride wouldn’t allow me to ask anyone for help. So I went to the liquor store for my crutch.

In the next three and a half months, I died a hundred times. I still attended a lot of meetings when I could, but didn’t tell anyone of my troubles. The other members had learned to leave me alone, because they felt helpless, and I understand now how they felt.

One morning, I awoke with a decision to stay in bed all day—that way I couldn’t get a drink. I kept that decision, and when I got up at six, I felt secure, as the liquor stores closed at that hour. That night, I was desperately ill; I should have been in the hospital. About seven o’clock, I started to phone everyone I could think of, in and out of A.A. But no one could, or would, come to my aid. As a last effort, I phoned a blind man. I had worked and cooked for him for several years, and I asked him whether I could take a taxi and come to his apartment. I knew I was going to die, I told him, and I was afraid.

He said, “Die and be damned! I don’t want you here.” (He told me later he could have cut his tongue out, and thought of calling back. Thank God he didn’t!)

I went to bed sure I would never get up again. My thinking had never been clearer. I couldn’t really see any way out. By three o’clock in the morning, I still hadn’t slept. I was propped up with pillows, and my heart was pounding almost out of my chest. My limbs started turning numb—first my legs above my knees, then my arms above my elbows.

I thought, “This is it!” I turned to the one source I had been too smart (as I saw it) or too stupid to appeal to earlier. I cried out, “Please, God, don’t let me die like this!” My tormented heart and soul were in those few words. Almost instantly, the numbness started going away. I felt a Presence in the room. I wasn’t alone any more.

God be praised, I have never felt alone since. I have never had another drink and, better still, have never needed one. It was a long way back to health, and it was quite a while before people had confidence in me. But that didn’t really matter. I knew I was sober, and somehow I knew that, as long as I lived the way I believed God wanted me to live, I never need feel fear again.

Recently, I was told that I had a malignant tumor. Instead of being afraid or depressed, I thanked God for the past sixteen years of borrowed time He had given me. The tumor was removed; I feel fine and am enjoying every minute of every day. There will be many more days, I believe. As long as God has work for me to do, I will remain here.

Lac Carré, Quebec