The Soul Workout. Helen H. Moore

to read aloud that would give me the opportunity to be witty, wise, and moving, and possibly even launch a laugh or two. In other words, I was searching for a reading that would make me sound good and that would make the other group members like me more. “Sure,” I said, unenthusiastically. All right, I was more than unenthusiastic; I was a touch peevish. Actually, it wouldn't be wrong to say I was condescending.

      He pointed to a sentence. “This says, ‘We have recovered,’” he complained. “But people in the program say we never really recover. That's inconsistent! Which is it?” Now, my Higher Power speaks to me in many ways—through you, through other people, and sometimes through inanimate objects. When I turn on the ignition in my car and the display reads “Perform Service,” I think that's my HP talking to me, too. This time, HP spoke to me the way He sometimes does, in my head, right in back of my left ear. “Read the passage the kid is asking about” was the message I heard. So I did.

      I read it, and I shared something, and then I called on another member to share, which is the way my home group runs. That member shared, and called on another, who called on another, and forty-five minutes later, as the meeting ended, the kid turned to me and smiled. “I get it,” he said, and hugged me. “Thanks.” Wow. I had watched the spirit of my Higher Power move around the room that morning like the beach ball at a Grateful Dead concert. It bounced from the secretary to me, to the kid, to each group member who shared, and then bounced right back to that young man who had nine days.

      I try to remain aware of my Higher Power today, making certain assumptions, of course:

      

I assume He exists;

      

I assume He is crazy about me; and

      

I assume He will speak to me in many ways if I remain attentive, conscious, and aware of His presence.