My journal entries have mostly been about my journey in Al-Anon, a 12-step program for families and friends of alcoholics. My notes have been mostly flattering, describing the positive and useful practices and growing opportunities in the rooms and steps of Al-Anon. I realize, however, that I’ve touted “rigorous honesty” as a necessity for spiritual growth within the program. And I’ve come far enough along that I am able to honestly examine some of the things within the rooms and fellowship of Al-Anon that may not be positive or helpful. In rigorous honesty it seems appropriate then to document some of these potential troubles or pitfalls within the people of the program so I will remember and possibly avoid falling into these traps as I continue to grow.

One of the first things that becomes quite clear is that when it comes to healing and restoration it is not the years in the program, but the program in the years. Some members who have been in program for 15, 20 or even 25 years have made significant progress and are real beacons of recovery. Unfortunately, however, there are some who have been in the program for a very long time who are still sadly broken. And occasionally these same people have as their mission telling newcomers and people going through their 12 steps for the first time exactly how it is done. These are people who spend more than their share of time in a meeting preaching or presenting their version of how things work – bordering on giving advice. Sometimes these are people who are stuck with a particular part of their healing. Perhaps they were hurt by a man in their life and today still expound the simple notion of “women good, men bad.” Maybe they have all the answers with their religion and use the rooms of Al-Anon to promote particular religious tenets. Or perhaps they see Al-Anon as a social network in which to promote their life calling or profession. Each of these things is inappropriate in any 12-step program but they can, nonetheless, be found. For me it is healthy to realize that everyone in recovery is there for a reason. Often I have to take what I like and leave the rest. And once in a great while I actually have to set up a boundary with another member for my own recovery and recognize that they are not a positive source of healing and restoration for me.

Another trouble spot, particularly for single members or those going through marital problems, has to do with trying to flirt, couple, or date within the rooms of recovery. Quite simply I have found that this isn’t the place for that. It is a fairly common theme in Alcoholic’s Anonymous, and it can be heard in Al-Anon conversations as well: using my 12-step program as a vehicle to hook up romantically is just not a good idea. It seems just as common, however, for me to ignore that admonition and flirt with more trouble in my life.

My sponsor says it rather crassly: “Don’t shit where you eat.” My recovery, and perhaps my very survival, requires my participation in Al-Anon meetings and fellowship with members working their program. I “eat” in the rooms of recovery. Chasing someone romantically, even in play or simple flirtation, can (and often does) end badly. Someone’s feelings or ego gets hurt, and then there is embarrassment and/or resentment and I have a real mess in the place where I eat. Now I have to face the mess in maturity or avoid the mess by not going to the place I need to survive. Of course that is all very “high school” so I believe I am above that in maturity. But, to my chagrin, my experience has taught me I am very immature in this area: I bruise really easily when things go wrong. And going back into a room with someone who I let hurt me (or someone I have hurt) romantically can be a real growth challenge. Note to self: avoid it at all costs.

Now, just in case I ignore the first part of this admonition to myself I need to write down some other details I must remember in the lonely moments of my recovery when it comes to chasing members of the opposite sex who are actively working their program. These are some other very good reasons to avoid coupling in the rooms of recovery.

Flirting with someone working the 12-steps for me is like sitting in the barber’s chair with shaving cream lathered all over my face and watching the barber had a pretty lady a straight razor for the first time, letting her practice on me. Often those of us in recovery are learning new skills we’ve never tried before. There are things like setting boundaries, taking care of myself instead of someone else, allowing myself to feel my own emotions for the first time in a really long time, giving others the dignity to crash and burn, and many other life-changing concepts new to me. These things are all new to the pretty lady with the straight razor too. At the very best I’m going to be bloody when she’s through practicing on me. At the worst she’ll lob off my head and say “oops!”

And since I’m really slow at listening to my own good advice I must record one more thought on the subject. Someone seriously working a 12-step program has a good sponsor in the wings. My best flirting practices and games might impress the one I’m chasing, but it is likely that a sage sponsor is going to see through them. I’m not just courting the girl I’m chasing – I’m courting her sponsor too. And in the early days of someone’s program they can lean on their sponsor a lot. It is best for me just not to go there.

Of course you have probably concluded by my repetition in kicking this sleeping dog that I’m not listening to myself. So I must confess to you that part of the reason I am writing these things down is so I won’t be able to play the martyr or wallow in self-pity when I get hurt ignoring my own best advice. But, better still, these notes might be just enough to help me through those lonely moments with my brain is on pause.

A year before my wife died I wrote her a love letter to say everything that needed saying while we still had time. I knew that if she didn’t find recovery soon her life would come to an end. Now I want to record the letter publicly so it will live forever, as does our love. Here is what I wrote:

“When my dad died recently I realized how very important it is not to have left things unsaid. When my mom died so long ago it was so sudden and unexpected I grieved for years not knowing how to tell her everything I wanted to say. The events of these past years have made me finally realize that we may not have much time left to say things to each other. So with this letter I want to write down what I want you to know.

I love you today more than ever before. And I have loved you most of the years I have had on this earth. I think it started when we were 12 years old and I got to be near you as “brother and sister”. When we began dating as boyfriend and girlfriend you were all I could think about. I never understood how a girl so beautiful would want to be with me. I knew when I was 16 more than anything else in this world I wanted to spend my life with you. To this day that desire has not changed.

Our marriage was a natural extension of our relationship and love. We started out with no material wealth and very little income. Fortunately hamburger was only 25 cents a pound back then or I think we would have gone hungry.

You gave me two beautiful children. I know today that I wasn’t helpful in those early years raising our children. You carried the load and nurtured them into their teen years. In recent weeks they have told me again how much they love you and look to you for the help only their mother can give.

During those years we still didn’t have a big income or fancy things. But your love for me, the kids, and our marriage held strong.

You were the only one in my life who understood my pain when I lost my mother. The events that followed broke apart my father’s family. To this day I cry thinking about that terrible time. But you carried me through – you were always there for me.
I’ve seen over the years many mistakes I have made in our marriage, friendship, and time together. I would love dearly to turn back the clock carrying with me what I know today to start our journey over again, but life doesn’t work that way.

When we went through empty-nesting and my career change I relied on you to get me through. You are my strength, my courage, and my hope. I am completely and entirely lost without you.

When we started life together there were so many things I wanted – but I always had you. Today I can’t think of anything I still want, but I’m losing you. So I want to write for a while about the present.

The disease you are fighting has stirred up just about every emotion in me. I’ve been terribly afraid, angry, depressed, and downtrodden – but I have also been made keenly aware of how much I miss you when you’re not here. I have mobilized all of my energy to fight the disease, and I’ve been called to a renewed sense of duty as we struggle together to bring you back to health. Sadly most of our communications today are colored by the emotions of the moment. And I’m learning that when I strike out at the disease too often I miss and hit you instead. No, not physically, but emotionally and sometimes verbally. I fall down exhausted, crying that I can’t do anything to stop the disease. I am totally undone.

Finally I am beginning to realize that I have started the grieving process over losing you.

I would gladly give up everything to save you. I would exchange my life for yours if I could. I have had months to think this through now. If it will help you fight the disease I will give up my job, my wealth, my way of life, and everything I hold dear to get you back. I love you with every fiber in my body and I want you to live.

Nevertheless I am now trying, oh so hard, to put your choices, desires, and decisions back in their proper place. I’m beginning to see it is disrespectful – and I take away your dignity – when I try to control what you choose as your future.

Right now I have a pretty strong sense that our time together may be growing short. Although I won’t ever let go, this disease seems to be gaining the upper hand. So today I renew my vows to you and God that I’ll be right here until death do us part. I really love you – today, now, and in the present with the same love you have had for me all these years.

If our life together ends please remember I will carry you in my heart to the grave. I am forever grateful for all you’ve done for me – all the love you’ve shown – all your patience – and encouragement – our kids – our grandkids – and all that you’ve brought into my world. If I were to live 100 lifetimes I could never repay you. I will forever kindle the flame that held us together all these years.

I really do love you with all of my heart.

I just needed to say these things to you clearly before you go."

The Al-Anon Program is based on the 12 steps of Alcoholics Anonymous. The steps progress through simply acknowledging our powerlessness over alcohol to connecting to the One who has all power. Along the way the steps call upon us to examine ourselves and make some changes to the path we’ve been following.

One of the Al-Anon readings reiterates a principle of equality among members. It is the simple understanding that there are no ladders in Al-Anon. Everyone is on the same plane – everyone is equal in their standing within the program. It is good news to learn that there are no governing leaders or directors at the meetings. In fact, time in program (how many years a person has been working the steps) and progress with working the steps provides no elevation in rank or status to an individual member. Every member is on equal footing within the fellowship, and every voice matters.

I have often forgotten this principle when I have placed another member on some higher plane in my mind. I think surely if I am on Step 3 and they are on Step 12 they are more important or have more insight than I do. I think if someone has been in the program 10 years they must be more successful at working the program than someone with only a year or two. It is this thinking however that sets me up for a fall.

Perhaps the biggest trouble I can create with this thinking occurs when I am seeking a Higher Power and I look for someone who is up on their ladder closer to God. Of course that is not how a relationship with a Higher Power works at all. It has been my experience that God seeks each of us out right where we are – no ladder required.

You see, Step 11 doesn’t tell us to improve our conscious contact with someone who appears to have a close relationship with a Higher Power. Nor does it tell us what this Higher Power's will is for us. In fact, unlike many religious settings, there is complete freedom for each member to grow their relationship with their Higher Power in their own way and at their own pace.

The other steps of the program also take on many creative forms as various members do the work of recovery. Yes, active recovery demands movement on my part, but for me it is more important to know the direction I am moving in than how fast I am going. I've said it before in my writings: in navigation direction trumps speed every time.

The direction of the 12 steps for me is not upward, it is forward. Upward movement only gets me into trouble. When I head up pretty soon I need a ladder. Then, as some of the old time religious clichés relate, I become so heavenly minded I'm no earthly good. If I'm not paying attention the spiritual awakening brought about by working the steps may be spoiled by my movement away from fellow members of the program. This happens when I mistakenly see my Higher Power up and away from this group of everyday people.

The 12 Steps create a program of action that keep my feet firmly planted on the ground. What's more, they keep my feet and my head in the same time zone. And my forward movement through the steps shows me the face of my Higher Power in the flesh and blood of the folks surrounding me. Truly this is God come down to man, not man wandering upward to God in isolation.

Upon close examination this looks and feels like really good news for a broken person like me.

When I first came to Al-Anon I was very uncomfortable every time I heard the words “Higher Power.” Why couldn’t the program just say “God”? I had to actually work the steps to learn the answer to that question.

The 12-steps require rigorous honesty. And it turns out that honesty provided the litmus test I used to find my new, Higher Power. I’ve always been religious. And I’ve always had God in my life. But it wasn’t until I began working the 12-steps that I found a truly Higher Power.

Here is how that worked: Whenever I would pray or sit with God before the program I wasn’t honest. I spoke to Him with “Thee’s, Thou’s, and Thy’s” – and I didn’t talk about things that I didn’t think He would approve of. Then, of course, there were times in my life when I wanted to be really close to God. I didn’t want to do anything that would mess up that relationship with Him. So I cleaned up my act and did things that a good person would do; dishonestly

It wasn’t honest because that isn’t who I was the rest of the week – and it wasn’t what was really going on in my head most of the time

So why was I being dishonest with God? Well, the way I figure it I was either trying to cover my ass, or I was trying to protect Him. Either I didn’t want Him to pull away from me, dislike me, or punish me, as the result of my honesty; or, I felt like I didn’t want to hurt Him by using the language I use with the guys Friday night, or showing up in my dirty clothes for worship.

The thing I realized in working the steps, however, is that if my dishonesty kept God from being mad at me – or if my dishonesty kept me from hurting Him - that in my mind I was controlling God, and He certainly was not a Higher Power. So I had God, but in my dishonesty I was more powerful than this God I had.

While I was living with active alcoholism there were a lot of times when I didn’t clean up so well. At these times I approached God with a rigorous honesty I’ve never known before.

When my wife died I went into the depths of my own little hell and I approached God absolutely pissed off and full of questions. With my recovery in Al-Anon I again approached Him with rigorous honesty. It was just me and Him. And I was a sorry sight with language you don’t use in mixed company, let alone before the Creator.

As He picked me up and helped me stand again, for the first time in my life I had a God who was more powerful than me – a God I didn’t have to control or fix. He is a God I can stand before buck-naked in my honesty who isn’t there to punish me, and who isn’t hurt by my humanness. You see, Al-Anon gave me the honesty to find a truly Higher Power.

Working Step 12 while at the same time grieving the loss of my wife has placed me in bitter-sweet settings. I am often asked to participate on Al-Anon panels in recovery institutions. Frequently I visit rehabilitation homes for alcoholics and addicts. Of course Al-Anon is for the families and friends of alcoholics, so most of the time we speak to family members who are visiting someone in recovery.

Lately I have begun to be more hesitant when I am asked to be on one of these panels. The past couple of times I have shared my story there has been a person or two visiting that are shocked to hear an unhappy ending in a house of hope. Almost without exception those visiting alcoholics and addicts in rehab are expecting a full recovery for their alcoholic/addict once they are released from several weeks of sober living. And thankfully it can and does go that way for many. But for others the path is more difficult.

In Alcoholics Anonymous they often talk about the alcoholic who must die so others can live. The thought seems to be that the tragic endings for some really illuminate the way for others, pushing them along in their program. But to a mother of an alcoholic child, or the wife of an addicted husband, the moment of realization that there is even a remote possibility for failure is a terribly painful moment. They even ask out loud how my story fits into their lessons for serenity. And it is in these moments of clarity that I am uncomfortable with my story. I am no poster child for happy endings.

As I worked my 11th step a couple of months ago I decided to begin attending church again, something I set aside years ago in my isolation. I visited a couple of churches and found one where I seem to be connecting with my Higher Power in a good way. I suspect I will stay in this church for a while.

At this point however it is not about people and socializing, or about some need to be a part of a family. I have satisfied those needs in my 12-step program. It is about a more intimate relationship with God Himself.

Recovery for me often is not comfortable. Wrestling with unfamiliar actions and new understandings of insight is difficult. My time in grief has been the most difficult passage I have ever entered.

God used a song in church this week to show me an area I have not given to Him yet. The lyrics of the exuberant tune say "you give, you take away, my heart will always say, blessed be your name."

In working the steps I know that I am certainly powerless over alcohol and addiction. And I believe completely that there is One who has all power. But I was completely without praise for God while thinking about what the disease of alcohol has taken from me. And there I stood, tears streaming down my face, choking on the words "blessed be your name".

And then it hit me. I was sitting in a 30 day rehab house angry at God for sharing with me that sometimes life is really crappy even in His care and protection. But every loss I see, every grief I encounter, and every ending I come to came about solely through His gifts and love. I wouldn't have felt such terrible pain in my wife's death unless He first made my wife, put her in my path, gave her the capacity to love me, and gave us years and years to embrace each other.

There is no loss that exceeds the gift itself.

Thank you God for such a wonderful gift! "You give, you take away, Blessed be Your name!"