This book is lovingly written for those who have been through the 12 Step process of recovery from some sort of addiction or life-controlling problem, with a sponsor or mentor. Clear instructions for how to work the 12 Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous are given on pages 63-71 of the book ‘Alcoholics Anonymous’ which is referred to as the ‘Big Book’ by those in recovery fellowships. There are many 12 Step programs today that have sprouted from the movement started with Alcoholics Anonymous and they have a remarkable success rate for helping people recover from addictions. This book is not meant to replace that process or to serve as an alternative to that process. It is heartily recommended by the author that the 12 Steps should be worked according to the instructions in the Big Book in order to have good success with initial recovery. The fellowship aspect is very important as well.
The book that you are reading is designed to help a person to go deeper into their spiritual experience as a result of working the 12 Steps. I have moved into a wonderful relationship with God through the experience of daily prayer over the scriptural promises and meditation on the impact of those promises in my life, and you can do the same through earnest prayer and reading of these scriptures that pertain to the Steps and to the recovery process. Recovery is a lifetime pursuit and one of the sayings in the fellowships is “You either grow or go!” We should always maintain a hunger for spiritual growth and an honest submission to spiritual discipline through daily spiritual practice. I hope that this book serves as a touchstone to propel you into a higher realm of spiritual awareness of God’s immense love for you and His desire to bless you and provide for your every need. May God bless you as you read through the following pages, and draw you closer to Himself.
Chapter 1
I could not have asked for a more idyllic start on life. My parents were both extremely beautiful to gaze upon. They were healthy and strong; my mother was a German beauty and my father was Irish and Cherokee Indian. Both of them had been in the U.S. Navy during the Korean War, and they were both Navy Corpsmen. They both looked good in white, almost like two angels. The most outstanding quality that both parents exhibited was that they were very devout Christians. Christian love for man and God infused every day and aspect of our lives. Both of them said that they wanted to serve Jesus Christ with their lives.
The neighborhood where we lived was a brand new subdivision built on land that had been farmland. The old farmhouse of the previous owner still sat behind the local store, which the family that sold the land owned and operated. They had a meat market with high quality fresh meats, and soda pop for fifteen cents. The new junior high school was right beside the store and both were just one street over from us, so they were easily within walking distance. Our house was beautiful! It was red brick with white trim and wrought iron ivy on the front porch. In side were shiny hard wood floors and Philippine mahogany doors and cabinets. The bathroom was all pink with pink fixtures and a touch of brown ivy trim on the tile in the tub. I used to love to take bubble baths in the pink tub and blow bubbles with a bubble wand.
Mom and Dad were as fertile as they were beautiful and soon there were three children in stair-step progression. I was born in May 1956, Sandra Gail, my sister, in June 1958, and Charles, Jr., my brother, in July 1959. Having three children was very convenient for playing games with childhood stories and nursery rhymes. The three bears, the three little pigs, the three little kittens, Winken, Blinking, and Nod and so forth. Later on, we even played the three stooges, to my mother’s horror.
Mother loved to sing and the house rang out with songs, mostly Christian Spiritual songs like “I am climbing Jacob’s Ladder”, “Out of the Ivory Palaces”, and “Swing Low Sweet Chariot”. She also liked to sing nursery rhymes and popular songs like “Oh, You Beautiful Doll” and “Put Another Nickel in the Nickelodeon”. She taught us to sing “I’ve Been Working on the Railroad”, and “Row, Row, Row Your Boat”. We could not have been happier.
Everything got pretty busy around our home with three lively siblings keeping Mother busy while Dad worked with the Dallas Police Department as a Patrolman. We loved his uniform and everyone wanted to blow his whistle every time that he left home to go to work. He usually would let us blow the whistle, too. Mother dieted and worked occasionally as a model. She was too short for High Fashion, at five feet, two inches, but she could model shoes and swimsuits. She went to modeling school and came home and practiced her catwalk priss and both my sister and I practiced walking that way too. Later, as teenagers, we were known as the prissiest girls in town. Mother started taking diet pills that she got from her doctor, then taking barbiturates at night. Her mood changed to high-strung by day and she would be incredibly sleepy in the mornings and hard to wake. Dad went to electrician’s school at night.
One day I came into the kitchen and found my Dad at the table writing and sobbing. Big tears fell down onto the paper as he said “Mama’s gone away”. My Mother found the stress of the children too much, with my Dad gone all the time, and she had gone to her uncle’s home in Oklahoma for a visit and to consider leaving my Dad. This was the first of many heartbreaks, separations, and discussions of divorce. Mother came back home and we were told to be good and not make her nervous.
Dad had a large family; he was the seventh son of 13 siblings, all Southern Baptist. Mother was a Presbyterian and my Dad’s family looked down on that somewhat, after all, the Presbyterians could drink and dance which the Baptists did not condone. Mother would be teaching us to do the twist and Dad would say “You’re not teaching those children to dance, are you?” He had to go to work, so we twisted and be bopped to our heart’s content. Dad’s family had been traveling share croppers during the Depression and for some time afterward. Mother had been the oldest of 3 siblings and her grandparents were wealthy enough to own a farm, so Mother had her own horse.
By the time that I was 6 years old Mother had a nervous breakdown and had to be taken to the mental hospital in Fort Worth, Texas. I thought I would never stop crying when she left. It was fall and school had just started and I was in the first grade. Children did not go to kindergarten in those days. Christmas time came and we got to go to see our Mother. The hospital had bars on the windows and doors made of bars. Inside the granite floors were cold and grey. The attendants seemed very serious and official. My aunt dropped a glass bottle of antacid on the floor and we all jumped as it shattered. We were shaken up when we went into the room to see our Mother. She was talking with a man (her doctor) and laughing. Then she stopped laughing and looked confused as she said “What beautiful children! Whose children are these?” I felt sick as I heard my Dad say “Honey, these are your children.” My aunt said that we had to leave right then, and as we left I knew that I would never see my Mother again.