Читать книгу Came to Believe - Anonymous - Страница 20

When I came to A.A., I was a self-ordained atheist, a part-time agnostic, and a full-time antagonist—antagonistic toward everyone, everything in general, and God in particular. (This was due in part, I suppose, to my trying to hold on to my childhood concept of God.) A more bewildered, confused, powerless woman there never was. It seems that I had lost faith first in myself, then in other people, and finally in God. There was only one good thing about my refusal to believe that I had a Creator: It certainly relieved God of an embarrassing responsibility.

Yet I had a spiritual experience the night I called A.A., though I didn’t realize it until later. Two angels came, carrying a real message of hope, and told me about A.A. My sponsor laughed when I denied that I had prayed for help. I told him that the only time I had mentioned God was when, in my despair at being unable to get either drunk or sober, I had cried out, “God! What am I going to do?”

He replied, “I believe that prayer was a pretty good one for a first one from an atheist. It got an answer, too.” And so it did.

In a state more like rigor mortis than an acute hangover, I was taken to my first A.A. meeting, about sixty-five miles from my hometown. We visited a member’s house on the way, and I caught my first glimpse of the Serenity Prayer, on a wall plaque. It was a shocker! I thought, “I’ve really got myself into another big mess with my drinking, as usual. I hope this prayer has nothing to do with A.A., for heaven’s sake!” And I studiously avoided looking in that direction all afternoon.

Little did I know that, starting twenty-four hours later, the Serenity Prayer would be my companion and hope and salvation for five horrifying days and nights.

After we reached the closed A.A. meeting, in the evening, my whole attitude began to change in spite of myself. These people had something I lacked. And I wanted it! (Later, I learned that what they had was Power drive and Power steering, and that the source was a loving God as they understood Him.) They acted as if I was an answer to a prayer and they really wanted me there. (Eventually, the belief these A.A.’s had in me led me to believe in them, then in myself again, and finally in God.)

One of the women handed me a small white card with the Serenity Prayer printed on it. “What if I don’t believe in God?” I asked.

She grinned and said, “Well, I believe that He believes in you. Didn’t you say that you were willing to go to any lengths?” And she added, “Just hang on to this card for dear life! If you’re tempted to take that first drink, read it. Or read it if you run into some other problem too big for you to handle.”

At home, just twenty-four hours later, I did begin hanging on to that little card “for dear life.” My husband of twenty-five years went into D.T.’s. In his madness, he prevented me from phoning or going for help. For five days and nights, there was no sleep for either of us, and there were times when I became part of his nightmares and my life was threatened.

All the while, I never allowed the card to leave my person. I read and reread the Serenity Prayer. Though the house was as well stocked with liquor as a small bar, the miracle of it all was that I did not take a drink! Me!—who had solved all my problems with strong drink. Instead, I clutched that little card and murmured the words over and over for five days and nights. I do not recall making any decision to believe. I felt only that the God of these A.A. people might take pity on me and help me. But I certainly had come to believe that I was powerless. As our Big Book states, “The alcoholic at certain times has no effective mental defense against the first drink. Except in a few rare cases, neither he nor any other human being can provide such a defense. His defense must come from a Higher Power.”

All this so soon after my first meeting! The whole experience caused me to listen intently to other members’ stories of how they came to believe; it caused me to read and reread the chapter “We Agnostics” in the Big Book and the words on the same subject in “Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions.” At last, I came to the conclusion that there was “an easier, softer way”—easier than anything I had tried for myself before A.A. I came to believe.

And lest I forget . . . I still have in my possession a small, tattered, faded Serenity Prayer card, which saved my sanity and my sobriety and restored my faith in the God of my understanding.

Brighton, Colorado