When Higher Power Was Giving Out Ears I Thought He Said Beers and I Said Two Large Ones 🤣 – Sister M.

is a glimmer in her eye, and a line that goes like this, live each day as if it's your last, and one day you'll be right. I'm an alcoholic, my name is Sister Maurice, and I approve this message. How are ya? That how are ya tells you I come from a place called the Bronx. And the Bronx is famous for a couple of things. Number one, the people from the Bronx are the only people in the world who can say, we don't have an accent. And the other thing about the Bronx, there are only two places in the world that have the in front of them. One is the Bronx, and the other is the Bronx. And the other is the Bronx. And the other is the Vatican. And I'm associated with both of those places. It's an honor and a privilege to be in your beautiful presence. It's nice to be invited. There was a time in my life when people stopped inviting me. I used to go anyway. And then I'd make a 30-day retreat wondering why they didn't invite me back. So to be invited. And to be invited today, it's very, very special to me. I would like to thank Bob and the committee for inviting me to come to this beautiful part of the world to share my experience, strength, and hope. I did a lot of observation this weekend. And there's an expression that we use a lot, love and service. Love and service. Love and service. And I experienced great love and service this weekend. We had a hostess. Her name was Alicia. And she had a very quiet husband. And they did so much for us. And then we had Fran and Joan. And they helped them. And so many other people put their hand to the plow with love and service. In fact, the other day, I said to Alicia, you've been such a wonderful hostess. I'll bet if I asked you to stand on your head for us, you would. And she was out of the chair. Ready to stand on her head. And I said, no, not now. This has been a marvelous and wonderful experience for us. I'd like to thank each of you for coming to be with me on this, the most important day of my life. It's not my birthday. It's not the anniversary of anything in particular. It's just simply the only day I have. And when people come to be with you at such a significant time, you try to remember them. At least I do. And I'll try to remember you because you're here with me on this, the most important day of my life. We were talking a bit this morning about modern technology. It will never cease to amaze me what goes on in this world with technology. And I was reminded of the three gentlemen who were standing around chatting. And all of a sudden, there was a little buzz. And one of the gentlemen said, oh, I'm getting a message. And he had a chip in his earlobe. And a little while later, the other gentleman said, heard a buzz. And he had a chip in his wrist. And he said, oh, I have to go over here and get a message. And the third fellow, he was kind of felt a little out of place. So he said, excuse me, I have to go to the men's room. And he came back from the men's room. And he had a piece of toilet paper. Hanging out of his rear end. And the other two guys started laughing. And he said, oh, I think I'm getting a fax. Now, I heard many of you were up dancing at midnight. So I just want to be sure you're awake. I am in awe at this moment of God's love for me. I am in awe of you. And my relationship with you. And I am in awe. And I am in awe of Sister Maurice. If you don't remember anything I shared this morning, please remember this. Because this is how I want to be remembered. It's the most important thing about me. At any point on a clock. I'm an alcoholic. Which means one brandy, two brandies, three brandies, floor. I'm a woman. I'm a woman. I'm a woman. I'm a woman. I'm a woman. I'm a woman. I'm a woman. I'm a woman. I'm a woman. I'm a woman. I'm a woman. I'm a woman. I'm a woman. I'm a woman. I'm a woman. I'm a member of a religious community. I'm an RN. A real nun. I'm a member of Alcoholics Anonymous. In good standing. In particular, the Forest Hills group in Queens, New York. That's my home group. And the last thing I tell you about myself is my name. Incidentally. My name is Sister. My name is Sister Maurice. One of the things I'm partial to in our fellowship is that it's a fellowship of equals. There are no titles in Alcoholics Anonymous or Al-Anon. No one really cares what you do for a living. I love that expression. Fellowship of equals. I don't think there's another outfit in society that can claim fellowship of equals. Like we can. At least we match any other group that's out there. And yet, you have never been anything else in the fellowship other than Sister Maurice. Isn't that a title? I don't see it as a title. It's my name. It's on all my important papers. It's on my driver's license. It's the name I've been using most of my life. It's the name I've been using most of my life. It's still written up quite well. Two police stations. City of New York. But moreover, it's the name that I gave when I came into the rooms a while back. A call had been made and I was to go to the Forest Hills group of Alcoholics Anonymous. And I wasn't quite sure that someone of my class and caliber should be going to such a place as AA. So I was not a happy camper when I came. But little by slowly, thanks to folks like you, that has all changed. So much so that I say quite comfortably today, I choose to live the AA way of life. For a few years I said, I have to go to AA. Gotta go to AA. Better go to AA. I don't have to. Gotta or better. I choose to live the AA way of life. And when I talk about something being a way of life, it's not an incidental experience. It's not something I do when the spirit moves me. A way of life, to me, is as much a part of me as my right hand and my left hand. And that's the way I see Alcoholics Anonymous. Alcoholics Anonymous today. But for starters, I went to this first meeting. I went up the stairs, down the stairs, into a little room. There was one man in the room. He took a look at me. Came running across the room. Grabbed my hand. Told me who he was. And he said, what's your name? I said, me? He said, yeah, what's your name? Oh, I said, I'm Sister Maurice. Now, this man didn't say, we'll have a group conscience meeting, and I'll get back to you. The very next thing the man said was, hi, Sister Maurice. You're welcome. And in my over 39 years in the fellowship, no one has ever suggested that I call myself anything else. The name is important. It's mine. But the most important thing about me, at any point on a clock, is what I told you first and foremost. I am an alcoholic. And each and every time I say that, beginning first, when I awaken in the morning, I don't know how you sleep. Of course I don't. But I sleep primarily on my right side. And when I awaken in the morning, I don't even know I have two eyes. Because this one is buried in the pillow. Before I go looking for this eye, the very first thing I do, I announce before my God, I am an alcoholic. It sets the tone here. It puts me on the right wavelength. And any time thereafter that I say I'm an alcoholic, I am reminded that of all the things I do, each day that God gives me, my most important job, work, task, assignment is that I stay sober. And I do that best through the principles and traditions of Alcoholics Anonymous as they have been written. When I came a while back, I was given a book. I thought it was an interesting way the book was given to me. The lady who gave it to me was much shorter than I was. And she stood out in front of me and she said, here is a big book. No coincidence. I'm very far-sighted. And I saw some fellows over there putting some shiny signs on the wall. And my eye hit upon the one that said, I am an alcoholic. Keep it simple. And as sick and old as I was, I said to myself, boy, do these people practice what they preach. Because you can't get much simpler than that. Here is a big book. Of course, now we have the paperback version, which I call the small big book. I don't call it the small big book. I don't call it the small book. I don't call it the little book. Because there is another book in the bookstore called the small book. And it talks about being an alternative to Alcoholics Anonymous. So I call ours the small big book. Well, you introduce anything new in AA and they send for you. This fellow came to me one night. And he had a small big book. And he's pacing up and down. And he's saying, hey, sister, you call this the small big book. I said, I do. He said, that's a contradiction. I said, contradiction? He said, small, big, small, big. I thought for a moment and I said, well, we have had jumbo shrimp for years. If you didn't get that, you could talk to your sponsor. But I didn't get that. I was told I was supposed to read the big book. I was told I was supposed to study the big book. I was told I was supposed to believe what I found there. I was told I was supposed to share what I believe. And I was told I was supposed to practice what I believe. And then this lady said, we suggest you do that along with the people who know how to do it best. And she called that outfit the fellowship. So we call it the small book. fellowship. And then she put the whole thing together. And she said, that is a design for living that really works. What do I know about anything? I said, let me see what I can do. And that design for living has worked so well for this lady here, that I don't spend a fleeting moment of my precious time looking around for alternative ways to go. I need all the help I can get, believe you me, but it is always as a secondary measure to the program. Alcohol became a way of life for me in a very short period of time. It dictated my moods. It made my decisions. It said you will, and it said you won't. I found it very hard to eventually start a new life. I found it very hard to eventually start a new life. I found it very hard to eventually start a new life. I found it very hard to eventually start a new life. I found it very hard to initially start a new life. I found it very hard to eventually start a new life. Surrender to the fact that whenever the first drink, I thought maybe the 21st, but whenever the first drink of alcohol went into this body, mind, and spirit, two things happened. One, I didn't know how many more I was going to have. Two, I didn't know what my behavior would be like. However, if you met me along the way and you said, sister, how many drinks did you have or will you have? I would accept that. said two, because that's what a lady should have. And if you said to me, what was your behavior like or what will it be like? I would have said steady as you go, because that's how I saw myself. But I know today it was very different. I was a first grade teacher at the time, and I had the reputation in those days of being the best teacher in the school. When the children came to first grade after Labor Day each September, by the end of September, my kids were ready for college. So at 10 o'clock in the morning, I'd be working real hard with these kids and something would start in my body, mind and spirit screaming in there, you need a drink. And the very next thing I would do morning after morning, I'd be at the school, and I'd be at the school, and I'd be at the school, and I'd be at the school, and I'd be at the school, and I'd be at the school, and I'd be at the school, morning, I would put up against the screaming what people told me I had so much of, and that was willpower. And the willpower approach was futile. And I went on to learn, and I'm glad I did, that it wasn't that I was a weak-willed individual, but rather I was a diseased person. I was a sick, untreated alcoholic. And when you are in that condition, it goes beyond the strength of your will to do other than to satisfy what's going on in here. So I'd move to the next phase of the game plan, and I'd say, well, it's a couple of minutes after 10, these kids can go out to the bathroom, then they can have their snack, get the teacher next door to keep an eye on them, because I'm a responsible person. And I'd say, well, it's a couple of minutes after 10, these kids can go out to the bathroom, then they can have their snack, get the teacher next door to keep an eye on them, because I'm a responsible teacher. Then I'll run over to the convent, get a drink, be back when this is all over. And I'd be running across the yard to the convent, morning after morning, and this would be my thought. This is going to be my last drink, at least until I've done my day's work. I was too sick to recall in those days that at 5 a.m., when the big bell went off to get us into our day, my story goes back to old God's time, before we went mad. And we had this bell that went off at 5 a.m. And for me to get into anything in those days, I had to reach over from my bed and take that drink. And I hated doing that. And each and every time I did it, I would say, this is going to be my last drink, at least until I've done my day's work. So whenever I would take the first one, everything would center around, when am I going to get the next one? And yet, if you met me along the way in those days, and you said, sister, who or what is the center of your life? I would have been insulted by the question. You just called me sister. You see how I'm dressed, every piece from stem to stern. You just saw me come out of that building called convent. And you're asking, me, who's the center of my life? How come you don't know the center of my life is God? And I would have been insulted by the question. Today, I choose to live honestly as best I can, thanks to folks like you. And I have no problem in sharing. Somewhere along the way, the focus shifted. And shifted from God to that next drink. I justified the use of alcohol in my life. I might say, too, because maybe someone needs to hear it. It was not one of my goals in life to become an alcoholic. I do not see alcoholism as self-inflicted. I believe it is a disease, sickness, condition that comes to a person. I think it's a marvelous and wonderful idea that we have steps. We have steps that suggest to us, in God's time, we make amends because we are accountable. But I don't hold myself responsible for the condition that came to me. However, I hold myself very, very, very responsible for the precious life-giving gift of sobriety that has been given to me. I did not get sober. I tried. I couldn't pull it off. I don't believe a person can get sober. That's my opinion. I believe something bigger, greater, outside of the person takes place. They call it a miracle. And I believe the precious life-giving gift of sobriety is given. And I believe it's given by one bigger, greater than all of us put together. I choose to call that one God. So, I feel like I have to do something. I feel like I have to do something. I feel like I have to do something. I feel like I have to do something. I feel very responsible to take care of the precious life-giving gift of sobriety that God has given me. So much so that I have no problem in sharing with you. If you should ever hear that Sister Maurice is back drinking, please don't call me a victim. Call me a volunteer. And the very next thing you should say, somewhere along the way, she wasn't willing to do everything necessary to stay sober. I cannot plead ignorance today. You have taught me and taught me well how to take care of the precious life-giving gift of sobriety that God has given me. Going back to the scene in the bed with the eye in the pillow, the second thing I do each time, is that I finish my Bible study. This morning before I go looking for the eye, I pray the Lord's Prayer. And when I reach the part of the prayer that says, give us this day our daily bread, I emphasize the word daily because I want to remind myself, I will have sufficient bread, sufficient help for the day. He will not refuse anyone who asks for the bread, the help. He gives it a day at a time. My responsibility to take the help and to use it to take care of the gift of sobriety for the rest of that day. There are advantages to years of sobriety. I've had them. But as the years of sobriety increase, so do the perils of smugness, complacency. The little sheep that strays from the flock is usually the one that's found in the ditch over the embankment, hanging from the barbed wire fence. A favorite fruit of mine is a banana. And every time I eat a banana, I have a meditation. And the meditation is the banana that leaves the bunch of the sheep. And the banana that leaves the bunch of the sheep. And the banana that leaves the bunch of the sheep is the one that gets skinned. I have a drunk log that tells you quite well that all by myself, I can stay very sick and quite drunk. But I truly believe I cannot stay sober and fairly well without you. Well, how do you really know that, Sister Maurice? You've never left us. When God was giving out ears. I thought he said beers. And I said two large ones. I'm an excellent listener to the sharing of other people. I was affected physically, mentally, spiritually, socially, emotionally from this disease. Physically, I fared out pretty well. There were times I tried to arrange my own. But I couldn't. I couldn't. I couldn't. I couldn't. I couldn't. I couldn't. I couldn't. I couldn't. I couldn't. I couldn't. I couldn't. I couldn't. I couldn't. I couldn't. I couldn't. I couldn't. I couldn't. I couldn't. I couldn't. I couldn't. I couldn't. I couldn't. I couldn't. I couldn't. I couldn't. I couldn't. I couldn't. I couldn't. I couldn't. I couldn't. I couldn't. I couldn't. I couldn't. I couldn't. I couldn't. I couldn't. I couldn't. I couldn't. I couldn't. I couldn't physical debt. I used to take the car, leave the Bronx, go across the George Washington Bridge, up the Palisades Parkway, pull over where you could sightsee. And I'd say, when those cars are gone, when those folks are gone, I'm going to run this car over the embankment because I don't know what's the matter with me. And then I'd have what I call today a moment of amazing grace. And I'd say, well, I'll go get a drink. I'll do this another time. So it's not to die physically, but there are other ways of dying I'm sure you can identify. I suffered the death of my values. I suffered the death of my integrity. I suffered the death of everything I came to as a woman, everything I came to as a sister. All those areas of my life died. Outwardly, I looked pretty good, held a job, did it fairly well, tried to keep up with my responsibilities. And above all, above all, I always said my prayers. No matter what shape I was in, I was always praying away. And some of you have shared with me that you thought you missed the boat because you didn't pray enough. Listen, I prayed enough for you and all belonging to you. So this disease must be, so big, whether you are afflicted with the disease or affected by the disease, that something as powerful as prayer will not get you through. And yet we say, where would we be without prayer? Prayer is a path where there is none. But I think for folks like you and me, there's another piece that goes with the prayer. Pray and row the boat. And this beautiful way of life, this design for living, our beautiful program enables us to do that, to pray and to row the boat. I denied that alcohol was my problem. I was somewhat relieved when I learned that denial is the major presenting symptom of alcoholism. And when you're in denial, you're not in touch with reality. What I knew about my situation would fit on a postage stamp. What was happening in my life was as big as the state of Pennsylvania. But if I didn't have it up here when it was presented, then it didn't happen. Now, I had hundreds of people talk to me about my drinking and the behavior that went with it. Some of them wanted to be martyrs at an early age. There's never that one coming in here, who she thinks she is. And there were many times that I exercised the denial. My mother was in the hospital in New York City having a total hip operation. She was there for months and months and months. The operation wasn't as perfect then as it is today. Now, I think they do it going up and down in the elevator. I went every day. I went every day to be at my mother's bedside, because that's where a good daughter should be. And one day, my beautiful mother, a beautiful Irish soft-spoken lady, she said to me in a whisper, if you don't come tomorrow, it'll be just fine. You must have a lot of work to do around the convent and the school. Why don't you skip a few days? And I sat there thinking, wow, there she is with all her pain. And she's thinking... And she's thinking of me. But I know today, because I'm in touch with reality, that my beautiful mother could not bring herself to say, you're an embarrassment to me. You're no help to me. I don't need you around this hospital drunk. Now, I have just one sister. No brothers. One sister. And she's also a sister. Now, I don't call her sister. But yet, she's my sister. Now, if you didn't get that, I'll explain it to you later. And during my active alcoholism, my sister secretly wished she had joined a missionary community and lived in Mexico. It's very hard to be proud of a sick, untreated alcoholic. I know that today. I didn't know it then. My sister came to the hospital to visit my mother. And she gave me one of those come-outside-the-door kind of winks. I dutifully went outside. I figure she needs my advice, my opinion. Now, my sister is very tall. And like my mother, a very soft-spoken, beautiful lady. So we're outside, and I'm looking up. And in a whisper, she says to me, why would you come to this hospital at 4 o'clock in the afternoon drinking? I was just about to give her a lecture when it dawned on me. We've been down this road a hundred times before. To the best of my recollection, not a word did I speak. But being a typical alcoholic, and that's all that I am, typical alcoholic. You know one of our songs, first you say you will, and then you won't. Being a typical alcoholic, I took my right hand, and I begged. I belted her. Shortly thereafter, two nurses came running down the hall. And they are yelling, sisters, sisters. They were not calling us sisters because we were related by blood. But we were dressed like sisters used to dress. Some still dress today. My veil was on the floor. Hers was someplace else. Now, I learned a few years later that one of the major rules in this hospital, is that no patient leaves their room unescorted. They were coming out stretchers, wheelchairs, crutches. Because the word got around, there's two nuns out there killing one another. In the midst of this chaos, I had a couple of concerns. I did not have the concern, maybe I shouldn't have belted her. I did not have the concern, maybe I shouldn't have had the last drink before I came down here. My major concern was that I didn't have the last drink before I came down here. My major concern was that I didn't have the last drink before I came down here. My major concern, as I'm looking up at my sister, is why did she scream? That's how we have all the hoopty-doo. Well, you know, I look back today with a sober, clear head. You know it's perfectly normal. You belt someone, they let out a hoop. The other concern, I had my purse had fallen onto the floor, making a rather loud sound as it fell to the floor. I was a little distracted with the purse. I wasn't too concerned about the few dollars in the purse. I have a vow of poverty. I kept it quite well during this time. But I was very concerned about the pint of holy water in the purse. One pint of Christian Brothers brandy. And what is the thinking of a sick, untreated alcoholic? No one leaves here with that purse other than you know who. Now there's only one word to describe someone who'd be in that position. And I had to go through a lot of other descriptions before, with help from people like you, I could get to what's proper right and fitting. And if there's anyone in this gathering who still sees themselves in this first group, I would suggest that you leave that thinking here this morning because it does not apply. I had to go through bad, hopeless, hopeless, weak-willed, sinner, you should know better. But the way I would describe someone today would be sick. Unwell. Not playing with full deck. That's respectful. Or I heard a fellow one night at a meeting, he said he was a quart low. That's respectful. I heard another fellow another night, he said he had a photogenic mind. He just never got any film in the camera. I had to go ways before I could see myself as sick and unwell. If you drink and you drive, you might miss the mark. I was always behind the wheel of a car. It was an insult to show on your face that you would drive us home. I brought you there, I'd bring you home. And you know, it never ceased to amaze me, as sick and all as I was, we'd have a big to-do about the fact that I shouldn't be driving. I'd get in behind the wheel and they'd all get in the car. My first accident, July of 1970. Sister Rose was in court over the dismissal of a teacher from her school. There was a big to-do in the Archdiocese of New York over this case. She had a prominent lawyer appointed by the diocese. And I said, I'll be in court to help the lawyer help Rose. How do we affect the people on the other side of the coin? The night before the trial, Rose called me up. She said, Maurice, please, don't come to court. My thinking was, wow, there she is with all her pain, and she's thinking of me. Well, I know today she was thinking of herself, and rightly so. It was not my style to push. I said, you know what? You'll have a lot of paperwork to do. I'll go to my classes. I'll meet you downtown at lunchtime. You can brief me, and I'll advise you for the afternoon session. And to be rid of me, she said, fine. Well, I was in graduate school that summer, and I drove well fortified from the top of the Bronx to the Wall Street section of my city. It was five minutes after 12 lunchtime, a working day in Wall Street, and the weather was clear. Those are the things they tell you at the top of the police report. It's important for our situation to know the weather. A United States mail truck that was parked by the curb, minding its own business, got in my way, and I smashed into it. And when the policeman came on the driver's side, first word out of his mouth, you couldn't miss it, he said, sister. Now, I was a little taken aback by the next part. He didn't say, sister, are you hurt? Could I call someone? You think women will ever be ordained? He said, sister, could you have been drinking? And for a moment, I wondered how the guy got on the police force. As was my style. Officer, could I help you? I proceeded to tell the officer about my friend who was in court being persecuted, et cetera, et cetera. Well, I went into a blackout, eventually a pass out. I woke up in a convent a short distance away. I woke up in a strange bed. Half my clothes on, half my clothes off, looking around, didn't have a clue how I got there, whatever. It was not my custom then, certainly not my custom today, to wake up in strange beds. Well, I'm around long enough to know that you have your story. But I always woke up in my own bed. But at a time like that, we all have the same tricks of the trade. Where am I? What happened? How did you get out of here? I could hear some talking through a partially open door, so I tiptoed over. I was glad the door was open a little bit. You know, we may be sick, but we're not stupid. We don't go over, throw the door open, and say, what happened? You go over. You're glad it's open a bit. You put an eye in and ear out, because you hear voices, to see if you could pick up a little something. Because you know from previous experiences, they will be questioning you, and you don't know anything. So I'm over peeking out and listening, and I see Sister Rose. And I knew as long as she was there, everything was going to be fine. She was always praying away, and she had such nice things to say about me. And if I knocked everything off the shelf, she quietly put it back. The other sister, neither of us knew the lady. She was at least 17. And I got to the door as the big, tall sister is screaming at Rose. Your friend is on pills, or she's drinking. And in order to help her, you are going to have to hurt her. I thought that was poor advice. So I took my eye and my ear in. I went back to bed to get a little rest to handle Rose, who came in and asked the going question in our lives at that time. What happened? What happened? I told her as I saw it. I lost control of the car because I was so upset about your court case. Now, in those days, the car was in my mother's name. My mother didn't know anything about the accident. I had the car fixed. Back out on the road. Three weeks had passed. Every time you talk to Rose, when are we going to tell your mother about the accident? Never. Then the fears that set in for the sick, untreated alcoholic. What if Rose tells your mother? So I called Rose up, invited her out for supper, my treat, took her to a little restaurant, leaned across the table in the restaurant and said, If you dare to tell my mother about the accident, someday you will come out of your convent. I'll be sitting in a car. And when you cross the street, that will be it. That is called threatening someone's life. Now, I always share that in my story. And one night, 100 years ago now, that means a long time, I was speaking someplace and we had a friend at the meeting. She's not in program, but she came to hear me speak. And at the end, she came up and she said, Do you really think you would have run over Rose? Up to that moment, no one had ever asked me that question. Not even Rose. I said, Let me tell it to you this way. Of myself, no. I wouldn't hurt a fly. As a little tot, teenager, young adult in the convent 100 years, you never knew I was around. I was always hiding out. What do I have to offer? I'm a nothing. You couldn't see me. I wouldn't harm you. But you know, you put one drink in here. Or something like that. Just one. And you can pay me. And you can paint the most tragic scene you can think of. And I could be the one heading it up. And I always like to point out, it wasn't that I was at mass the next morning or reading one of my 10,000 religious books that I had. And the thought came to me, Oh, you shouldn't kill Rose. You know what it was? It was another moment of that amazing grace. It just wasn't to be part of my story or part of Rose's that I would run her over. And I also like to point out that after over 39 years of continuous sobriety, you put one drink in here, the first one. And you can paint the most tragic scene you can think of. And I could be the one heading it up. How blessed are we? To have been called into a way of life. Where through a beautiful design for living, 12 suggested steps, people walking with you a day at a time. How blessed are we? That through that beautiful process, you can keep this kind of a terrible, terrible situation in place. How blessed are we? However, if I fail to be grateful, I may lose the gift of sobriety. But if I'm truly grateful, I will take care of the gift. I had another automobile accident. I took five parked cars with me. I damaged three plus, damaged three plus my own out of the five cars. And that policeman was a, what a nice guy he was. He came and he said, sister, I have a report to fill out. Could you help me? I said, sure, officer. The dog. Where is the dog? You know, she swerved to avoid hitting the dog. They are still looking for the dog. He was moving along and one day I got a call from my boss. Now in this, at this time. The big deal. The big boss was in the same category as the Pope. You never heard from the big boss. If she did call you, it was for either of two reasons. One, you were in trouble or there was a special assignment that only you could do. So I'm driving up to see the boss and this is my thinking. I have enough to do. Why is she asking me? So we get there. We have a little chit chat. She says, Maurice, I'll get to the point. You know, some of the sisters are saying that you drink too much. Now in those days, you wouldn't ask a question. I asked a question. I started when I asked it. I said, well, where are they? And she got a little nervous because I guess no one ever asked her a question. And she said, oh, they don't want to be mentioned. And I said to myself, I was into one of our steps at that moment. Can you imagine? I was in a very negative way. Made a list of all people who had harmed me and asked God to be rid of them. I asked her another question. I said, do you really know anything about me? And she said, well, I have a file. She went over. She peeked in. She said, oh, you're going to get your master's degree. And oh, you just got this award and trophies all over. She closed the file. And she said, Maurice, you have helped me. I will never, ever again believe this about any of our sisters. I said, that's a good policy to follow. She gave me an apology and off I went. And I walked back to the car and I had one thought and one thought only. She will never, ever, ever send for me again. And she never did. Next time she arrived unannounced and put me away. So when I learned about denial, I like to keep things simple. Alcohol makes the alcoholic feel fine. Therefore, he or she thinks everything is fine. Meanwhile, the people looking on are going, oh, here we go again. When I learned that, it helped me immensely. Denial is different from lying. Sometimes there's confusion. When you lie, you have all of the info. And you say yay or nay. Denial, you may have this much information. When I learned that, it fascinated me. Because sometimes there's confusion. You know, we are called liars. And certainly I told my share of lies. But there were times when it wasn't a lie. It was denial. You see. Not being in touch with the reality. You didn't even know it happened. So that helped me when I learned that. I was angry and resentful. Angry with God. I had given my life to God. What do you want from me? I love the word relationship. You've been my teachers about relationships. Prior to recovery, as a little tot, I put a game plan in place trying to relate to this God. Whoever or whatever he was. I don't just come from an Irish Catholic family. I have another dimension. I have another dimension. We call it BIC. Bronx Irish Catholic. And they were always talking about going to heaven and going to hell. And God's going to get you. And you better be good. And yadda, yadda, yadda. So as a little tot, I put a game plan in place trying to relate to God. And I continued that game plan all the way into the convent some years later. It went like this. I sat up straight. I knelt up straight. I disciplined myself. And we didn't have the expression in those days, but the expression that would have applied. Been there, done that. And then when I was drinking, it was taking God on. Well, if you don't need me, I don't need you. And if I don't need someone bigger, greater outside of this lady here, I wonder who I think I am. So I was angry and resentful with God. I was depressed during this time. I was in the convent many years before I picked up alcohol. Didn't like the taste of alcohol. Didn't use alcohol. On the 5th of January, 1967, my beautiful father, Maurice, he went to God. And upon his death, when he looked eyeball to eyeball into the eyes of God, at that moment is perfection for anyone. And whatever you lack, you will receive at that moment. And that's how my father received sobriety. Because he died of alcoholism at the age of 58. And I buried my father and I went way inside. And shortly thereafter, I came out with a drink. And I can say quite comfortably today, my father and myself were carbon copies of one another with one big difference. The way we were to receive the precious life-giving gift of sobriety. So I was using alcohol to lift me out of depression. I was getting more depressed. The bargaining stage. One bargain I like to share on. I got into bed one night. Had my prayer beads, rosary beads, praying away. Hanging on to the sheets. I'm no sooner in the bed. I have to get up and get a drink. And I said to God, you know what? I don't want to drink anymore tonight. Please help me. I'll do more work for you and for your people. Please don't want me to drink anymore tonight. Well, see, the first drink of the day always has the final say. And of course, we had had that. So the covers get pushed back. The prayer beads go on the floor. You get out of the bed. You crawl around. You find your hiding spot. You get your bottle. And you do something you don't want to do. You take another drink. And after I took that drink, I beat that floor. And I doubted the existence of God. How could a God who loved me. A God that I'm to relate to. How could you allow me to be in that condition? I'll bet there's no God. I live in the city of New York. And I drive on the FDR highway. The East River Drive. And I see our brothers and sisters. Yours and mine. Both sides of the highway. They build their homes there sometimes. They need a jacket, a pair of shoes. They have little brown bags. I had only one kind of brown bag. They have my kind and other kinds. And if those folks, our brothers and sisters, went over to the guard rail and beat the guard rail. And doubted the existence of God. We'd say, poor socks. What do they got going for them? I was in a beautiful convent at the time. I won for nothing. And alcohol brought me to the point where I doubted the existence of God. As we say in here. Whether you come from Yale or jail. Park Avenue, Park Bench. What does it matter where you came from? I think it's important to get to know your history, your story. But I put more energy into. Where do we go from here? Whatever happened this morning. Yesterday. A week ago. A year ago. A hundred years ago. You have taught me to learn from the experience. And not to let it stand in the way of putting one foot in front of the other. And being that person that God created you to be. And the other thing I did that night. I cried out at the top of my lungs. Isn't there anybody anywhere who knows what I'm going through? Because each one in the throes of the sickness. Whether you are afflicted with the disease or affected by the disease. Each one thinks nobody knows what I'm going through. It's a very lonely sickness. Well I didn't know you were up the street and down the road and over the hill and across the country going through the same thing. But I'm mighty glad that somewhere along the way. God saw fit that we would find one another in this beautiful fellowship. And it is God who was arranged. Our meeting. I truly believe that. C.S. Lewis. He says in one of his writings about relationships. He talks about relationships in general. And he says it's as if God says to the people in the relationship. You have not chosen one another. But I God have chosen you for one another. You think of the relationships that you have in the fellowship. Would you of yourself have chosen those people? Maybe yes. Maybe no. I like to think it was arranged. Like happened at the gatehouse in Akron, Ohio. Sometime back with Bill Wilson and Dr. Bob. And you want to know about the amazing grace of God as a result of that arranged relationship. That's how we get to be here this morning. It's fascinating when you put it out there and reflect on it. Well today I make bargains, deals, promises, commitments. And I follow through. I attribute that to one fact and one fact only. I don't drink alcohol while I'm sober. Very significant to Maurice's life. And the final stage is acceptance. The disease was moving along and finally it all came to a head because I had two exceptional do-gooders in my life. My sister, who's a sister, and my dear friend, Sister Rose. And keeping it very simple, they snitched. They blew the whistle and turned the clock. I'm sorry. They blew the whistle and turned me into the boss that I had charmed a few months before. They brought the boss to my mother's where I was hiding out. I noticed a difference in the boss. She wasn't interested in anything I had to say. And she was saying things like, arrangements have been made. And they're expecting you. In Lutron General Hospital in Park Ridge, Illinois. I listened. She said you could go Friday or Saturday. I listened. Then she said, there you will find out what is wrong with you. And all of a sudden, way in here, I said to myself, there isn't anything wrong with me. And then she said you'll be there for 28 days. And way in here, I said to myself, I won't be there for 28 minutes. But as sick and old as we are, we are not stupid. And I knew the only way I was going to get out of the room and away from the three people was to say I'd go. I said, I'll go. I'll go Saturday. So I went out on an AA plane, American Airlines, the way I like to go. And I met 64 charming men and women like you. And the word got around quickly that we had this nun, this Catholic sister in treatment. And one by one, all 64 came to me. They all did the same thing. They beat up on themselves. They said terrible things. But they always finished by saying, you know, sister, this is a mistake for you. You're not like me. You shouldn't be in a place like this. Well, believe you me, anyone who thinks like I do, they're going to be my friend. I had a nifty getaway plan. I scrapped it. I'm not one who sits around idle. By the end of the first week, I was a therapist. And the word got around. You don't like your counselor. You don't like your group. You don't like the meetings. Talk to the sister. She knows everything about everything. . Now, every day at 1 o'clock, we had what they call free time. Well, remember, they tell you free, and then they say this is what you'll do with it. We were supposed to stay in our room, read, write, listen to tapes. I always did as I was told. We had a nice table, tape recorder, pens, books. I'd block out what happened yesterday. I'd be there promptly at 1 o'clock. And I'd be there about two minutes. And I'd take the table, throw it clear across the room, go to the wall behind, banging my head against the wall, yelling and screaming at God, why me? I've been so good, and this is what you've done. There'd be blood pouring out of my head. My roommate had run out. She'd say she's at it again. They'd come in, clean me up, calm me down. I'd be fine until the next day at 1 o'clock. I was too sick then and long before that time to hear God say, you don't have to be good. You are good. That's a given. No one has been deprived of that goodness. Well, where's the bad come in? Oh, it's there. Attitude, behavior. I try, keyword try, separate attitude, behavior from the person. I try, keyword try, to separate attitude, behavior from this lady here. And I continue to chip away at my attitude and my behavior through that marvelous and wonderful process. I do it along with folks like you a day at a time. And while the process continues, sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly, I walk tall. I cannot help but be impressed at the goodness, holiness, magnificence, wonderfulness, greatness that sits and stands in this room. And if you're not there yet, borrow from me till you get your own strength. I don't know another group in the world that mentions the word spiritual or spirituality more than people in program. You want to know the key to the spiritual, to a life-giving, healthy spirituality? It's getting in touch with your own goodness. And the world has missed the boat with that. How blessed are we to have been called into a way of life where you can chip away at your stuff in a very beautiful, organized way. And you don't have to go it alone. You have folks walking with you. And you only have to do it each day till bedtime. How blessed are we? However, if I fail to be grateful, I may lose the gift. But if I'm truly grateful, I will take care of the gift. Well, some 39 years later, and for quite a while now, I have a why me question of God. Not why me, why am I an alcoholic? I don't give any time to that. But frequently. Why me, God? Why am I sober since so many people don't receive this gift? And he answers very loud and very clear. And he says the same thing all the time. He says, Maurice, you have not chosen me, but I have chosen you. The big book says God did for him what he could not do for himself. And he says many are called to the disease of alcoholism. Many are called to the situation on the other side of the coin. Very few, a drop in the bucket, are chosen for the precious life-giving gift of sobriety, for the precious life-giving gift of recovery in Al-Anon. And I say, well, why me? And he says, make your little chart. I make a little chart. I headed alcoholism. I put a simple line down the center. I put on that side of the chart all of us in recovery around the world. Fairly big number. AA, Al-Anon combined. And you put on this side of the chart. All those who are still out there. You wouldn't even see us. I find it awesome to be on that side of the chart. And I don't want to take that for granted. So I do this little game plan. Well, why me, God? Tell me again. Why am I sober? And he says, Maurice, how do you see death? A hundred years ago now, that means a long time, I sat with death. What is death all about? I was just meditating on death. And I read a line that I had read many times before. But this time I had a moment of amazing grace. And the line is, there's a time to be born and there's a time to die. And that's on God's calendar. And I believe any person goes to God in death, regardless of age or circumstances, when their work here on earth is finished. I do not see the God of my understanding as a yo-yo. I'm taking out and I'm getting out. I see God this way. I may have more work for that person to do. But on God's calendar, their work is finished. And the other thing that helps me, I'll see those people again when my work is finished. Well, the point, untreated alcoholism is still listed as an ultimate terminal condition, 100% fatal. And here we are. Well, I believe our death has been interrupted. Because our work's not finished. There'll be tragedy in our world tonight. Some people will get out of the burning building, so to speak. Others will go to God. Their work is finished. Those who get out of the burning building, I don't know what their work is. More will be revealed to them. I believe ours is defined. It's a specialized work. And nobody does it as well as the people in the rooms. With all due respect. To the church, the medical profession, other forms of help. They do a lot for people like you and me. But there's just something about one alcoholic sharing with another alcoholic. One member of Al-Anon sharing with another member of Al-Anon. So my major number one assignment on any given day. And I take the liberty of saying I believe yours is the exact same as mine. Take care of the gift of sobriety, the gift of recovery. If you're in Al-Anon or another 12-step program. Carry a message. Walk with. Pass it on. Be the fellowship. I believe that's our number one assignment on any given day. What else does he want us to do? You get notified as you go along. Well, on the 27th and a half day, I woke up and there was something different about me. I was crying and laughing and shouting. I'm really an alcoholic. Really an alcoholic. Because up to that moment, I have been going through the motions. And I went to see my one-on-one counselor at the facility. A beautiful Lutheran minister. We had many sessions together. And I said to him, reverend, reverend, I'm really an alcoholic. And this man did something he never did in any of our sessions. He started dancing around the room. He got so excited. And he said, I have a prescription for you to go to Al-Anon. And if you're faithful to that prescription, you'll only have to return here as our guest. I said, I won't make any promises. I'll see what I can do. And by that amazing grace of God, as it operates in rooms like this, and my cooperation with the grace, another way of saying that, we know the program works. But if you don't work the program, it doesn't work for you. So by my doing my part. I haven't found it necessary to pick up a drink or any substitute since April 17, 1971. I'm not one who says I'll never, ever, ever drink again. If I thought I would never, ever, ever, perhaps I wouldn't be as faithful. I live a day at a time. Early this morning, I asked for daily bread. We'll see how tomorrow goes. So I came into these rooms. And I did the old one, too. I didn't drink it. I drank it. I went to meetings. Went to meetings. Didn't drink. Didn't drink. Went to meetings. Could always be found sitting in the third row, waiting for this to be finished. But they weren't going to say I wasn't there. And one night, I heard a fellow chair, and this is what he said. He said he learned, unless he put the 12 suggested steps into his life and made some changes, he could very well lose his sobriety. And I sat up real tall because I was sure he was going to say, we don't want this. We don't mean that for the little sister there in the third row. And he never said it. And with the help of people like you, I learned why I was so miserable. Oh, I heard you say, change or die. And I used to poke the one next to me. Isn't there something in between? No. To be stuck would be a luxury. We're always in motion. We're changing or we're dying. We're getting better or we're going back. But no big deal. Beautiful process. Folks walking with us each day till bedtime. Wow. My responsibility is to follow that design for living. And little by slowly, change started to happen and continues to happen right up to this moment. And I have the changes in three categories. The first had to do with the intellect, this little box up here. When I came into the rooms, I had thinking that went, ready, fire, aim. I had postage stamp thinking. It was my way or no way. And you talked to me about that. And you said, sister, work your steps to the best of your ability. Don't go it alone. Do it a day at a time. It'll do wonders for your head. And I've had what I call an intellectual conversion up here. And then the moral conversion. I lost my value system. And that bothered me terribly. And we talked about that. And you said, sister Maurice, work your steps to the best of your ability. Don't go it alone. Do it a day at a time. And you'll get your value system back. And I've gotten my value system back. You told me I'd be able to see first things first. And second things second. And when I was wrong, I'd be able to promptly admit it. And I'd be able to practice the principles in all my affairs. And I'd even be able to admit it. And I'd even be able to practice the principles. And I wouldn't have affairs. And I took the suggestion. And I've had what I call a moral conversion. And then the third one had to do with spirituality. You were always talking about spiritual spirituality. And I used to say to myself, because I was very shy then, I still am somewhat today. I used to say, well, that spirituality sounds nice. But see, I have religion. For much of my first year in program, I could not walk straight in the door to a meeting. I had to go in sideways. Because I had flags in my ears. Catholic, Catholic, very, very Catholic. And we talked about that. And you said, you know, your religion is fine. But maybe you need to get a balance. And you helped me to get centered with my religion. I have the same religion I was brought up with. You also gave me a wonderful technique. I use it with religion. And I use it with many areas of my life. I take what helps me. And I leave the rest. So I said, okay, tell me about spirituality. And you said, well, it has to do with relationships. Oh, I said, I didn't know that. You said, yeah. Relating to the higher power, I said, oh, mine is a mess. You said it also has to do with relating to others. I said, oh, that's a disaster. And then you went on to say, spirituality also has to do with relating to yourself. And I got very sad. I said, there's nothing here to relate to. And you said, we'll help you get in touch. And you have taught me the full meaning of love your neighbor as yourself, not instead of yourself. You have taught me this above all, to thine own self be true. And little by slowly, as I chipped away at my stuff, I got in touch with the light, the light, the magnificence, the wonderfulness, the greatness that I thought I was deprived of. So when God gives the gift of sobriety, the gift of recovery in Al-Anon or another 12-step program, I believe he says three things. I'm interrupting your death. Your work's not finished. Carry a message. Walk with. Pass it on. Be the fellowship. Two. Have a relationship with these people. They'll come into your life, and you'll come into theirs. And third, with this gift of sobriety, this gift of recovery, I give you your dignity. Walk tall. So my prayer for you as you go about your appointed rounds is that you'll have your sobriety or your recovery if you're in another 12-step program. And as a result of that, I just know, I just know you'll have your dignity. And I close. The miracle does take place. She does finish. I close with just a couple of things. The only help I've had for over 39 years is this beautiful program of ours. And, you know, a lot of people are into steps today, even though they're not in a program. I have a friend who repairs shoes. He's not in the fellowship, but he loves the steps. And he has a sign in his shop. It's called Otto's Steps for Healing. Number one, admit your shoes are ruined. Number two, believe that you cannot fix them. And step three, give them to me to fix. So it's amazing how many people can work those steps. Again, I would like to thank you for inviting me to come share my experience, strength, and hope. And I close with a favorite piece from the big book. If you haven't heard anything yet that you can identify with, perhaps you can identify with this. Here I found an ingredient that had been lacking in any other effort I had made to save myself. Here was power. Here was power to live to the end of any given day. Power to have courage to face the next day. Power to have friends. Power to help people. Power to be sane. Power to stay sober. And the very short version of Sister Maurice's story, sometime they'll invite me for the short version. Well, I'll go anyway. I'm sure you can identify with it. Amazing grace. How sweet the sound that saved someone like me. I once was lost, but now I'm found. Was blind, but now I see. And may God, however you understand that God, may God bless you and God bless me. And God keep you and God keep me. Because nobody does it quite as well. Thank you.