It is a curiosity to find myself sitting down to write on a Saturday night on the existence of a being I truly believe exists and has always existed. There are many tasks to be seen to that are, in truth, of greater import; there are great dragons to be fought, damsels needing liberation from various and sundry distresses, journeys to embark on, noble causes to champion, and popcorn to pop before I load the DVD player and watch a romantic comedy whose main character is a drunken, foulmouthed, school teacher of loose moral fiber, and blond hair that absolutely must have come out of a bottle manufactured by Clairol while promising agreeable and simple results.
I have spent much time during my lifetime wondering as to the authenticity of some being that is apparently invisible, and has no discernible vocal chords. My journey to belief, despite the time wasted in useless dialogue and extensive and diverse reading, has been not as arduous a task as one might imagine. I am, after all, a thinking man and by virtue of the amount of time I find myself questioning nature, somewhat of a skeptic. Yet the ideal of a Supreme Being and the questions that might occur to the average run-of-the-mill thinking man never enter my head. You see, I have met God, and do so every day.
I meet God in everything that happens in my life. I find Him in the grocery store in the eyes of a little old lady who offers me her electric cart when she sees that I have trouble moving and walking…and does so without regard for her own infirmities.
I find Him in the face of another little old lady who asks me if I am finished with that same electric cart given me by the other little old lady. She has the beginning of tears in her eyes that I recognize as resulting from the pain in her legs and hips. I feel Him in me when He allows me the opportunity to show my latest friend how to operate the cart safely.
I could write about my encounters with the God of my understanding for many hours and days. It is easy this evening because I have no drama occurring that needs dealt with. I am without very much pain this evening which is remarkable given the tear bringing level at which I experienced it today from the minute I awoke. I am not particularly interested in watching the drunken teacher movie, but will probably watch it when I am finished at the keyboard. I have a comfortable chair to watch films and another at which I can sit and regale you with the mundane adventures of a starving artist with not enough money to go out on Saturday night. This is not the worst thing that can happen. I am more at ease writing then talking, and I have outgrown the desire to engage in activities that most single men would occupy themselves with on this weekend night.
I find it most alluring to report on how I met God this day. As many who read this blog know, I am gifted with the miracle that is Twelve Step recovery. For the last two months I have not been encumbered by the responsibility to maintain and operate a motor vehicle. It has been somewhat of an inconvenience…no…it has been a downright bitch! I am suffering from a loss of freedom and an even greater loss of self-esteem due to my financial situation.
One of the methods I am utilizing to get through this most temporary of (Well I hope it is temporary. Here that God?) situations, is to share about it when I get the chance to attend a meeting. There was a length of time where I was not able to get out of the house for weeks at a time. When I did have a ride to the meeting I, as directed by the tenets of the Twelve Steps, shared about my difficulties and went about my business. Some folks walked up to offer me rides, and still others told me to call well ahead of time to see if they have time. This has and has not worked that well, but that is for another conversation. I have definite feelings about having been reduced to making Blanche Du Bois statements, and accepting what is there.
I did receive, however, an offer of a ride from an unexpected source.
A rather attractive young lady I know came up and offered me rides to the meeting. She is many years younger than me, and we have a nice friendship derived exclusively from attendance at the same meetings. She has quite a few years less time in recovery than I do, and I truly respect her for the struggle she has gone through to find the miracle we share. She is a single mother of her own child and a niece who needed a safe place to live. This sweet young lady earns a living as a server at a buffet restaurant and works long hours when you factor in the time it takes to parent two children. She has a boyfriend as well, who desires portions of her time to do boyfriend stuff. That does not leave much time for her to see to the transportation needs of a grumpy old man.
I told her not to worry about me, that I would find rides and that she should focus on more important things that demand her time. I thanked her and gave her a hug and told her how much I appreciated her offer.
She quite directly told me to stop acting like a brat.
I laughed at this and reminded her that due to our age difference she might not want to speak to someone old enough to possibly be her grandfather in that tone. She told me that a brat was a brat no matter what the age. She smiled at me, told me to call her to get a ride and walked away.
I went about my business and have not had much trouble finding rides. I found good fortune in a friend’s mercy today and got out to two meetings and the grocery store, with several stops to seek fame and fortune at the hands of scratch-off lottery tickets. Back in my sanctum, I was enjoying a sumptuous repast of meat loaf and mashed potatoes (I LOVE meat loaf and mashed potatoes) when the phone growled at me. Answering it I hoped I would not miss too much of the Star Trek rerun I was joyfully watching (yes, I am a staunch Trekkie).
“T? This is _____, how are you?” I replied that all was well in my world and she liked that. “I’m just seeing if you need a ride to a meeting.” I told her of my good fortune that day in making two meetings and thanked her for her concern. “Well, I WILL pick you up if you need to go to a meeting!”
After once more thanking her, I asked her if she would be at the early meeting the next day, and that my friend is picking me up. I told her I hoped to see her and hung up. I had to get off the phone because I found myself fighting back the moisture that seemed to be percolating in my eyes. This sweet young lady, with two kids, and a boyfriend, took time out of her Saturday night to see if I needed a ride to a meeting that might just save my life.
If that is not looking into the face of God, what is?