Don't Argue with the Inner Voice
(Lesson from my Sponsor)
by Shelly MThe
principle of listening for inner guidance and acting on that guidance
has been the cornerstone of my spiritual growth. I have often heard,
"Listen to that still small voice," and yet I haven't always had the
courage to do what must be done. Long ago, when I first tried to get
off drugs and alcohol, I made a deal with that still small voice: I
would be of service to others and the voice inside would keep me on the
path of sobriety.
The voice, whether my Higher Power, higher self, or some type of angel, has never failed to prompt, protect, and propel me along a clean and sober path these last 39 years. Not to say I haven't argued with that pesky voice from time to time. The first "message" from my new-found friend, came early in sobriety. I, along with other young people in recovery, had been helping 19 year-old blond haired Johnny get off drugs. Even though his mother, Elaine, was sober in AA, her handsome son was not to follow in her footsteps. He left our half way house, got back on speed, and ended up in a terrible auto accident. Johnny lay in a coma in the hospital. At first it appeared he might recover, but a "voice" in a dream told me otherwise.
"That's the dead man's arm," a voice shouted as Johnny reached out to me from a dream. I awoke knowing he wasn't going to live. I didn't want to know. "Why tell me, tell her," I moaned. Elaine kept a constant bedside vigil and I wasn't about to tell her a voice told me he wouldn't come out of the coma. On the 12th day, he slipped away and I wondered if it would have been easier for Elaine had she known when I did.
Two months later at a 12th step club, an inner voice urged me to ask Elaine to sponsor me. I didn't really know this strait-laced prudish woman, my friend's mom. We had nothing in common. I didn't want to ask. But the words blurted out, unbidden by me, "Will you be my sponsor?" She politely declined, and I left the club thoroughly embarrassed and feeling betrayed by my inner guidance.
That evening Elaine phoned. "This has never happened to me before," she explained, "but my Higher Power brought me to my knees and told me, I am not sending you sponsees for them, Elaine, I am sending them for you. So," her voice trembled, "I would be honored to be our sponsor, if you will still have me." That was her first lesson for me—don't argue with the inner voice!
This loving spiritual newly grieving woman then devoted her time to helping me stay sober. Others came. One young woman after another sought sobriety thorough her inspiring words until she was sponsoring 10 of us. She no longer had room for grief, but took joy in our progress and emerging spirituality. We learned so many things from her—honesty, open-mindedness, how to be of service to others and how to follow the promptings of the inner voice. To us, she was an angel sent from God.
I soon discovered that my sponsor was not so strait-laced after all; she was just low-key about her beliefs. This marvelous woman was an astrologer! She read Edgar Cayce just like I did, and fit the 12th step program right into the metaphysical. Elaine did not consider me weird when I finally told her that Johnny had contacted me more than once. Instead, she took me in her arms and wept with joy. I was ashamed that my fear of rejection had prevented me from being of service at the time. I was ashamed that I had almost deprived myself of her wisdom and guidance because I argued with my voice.'
Through the loving guidance of Elaine, practicing the principles of the program and doing the next right thing, I have attempted to listen and serve on the whispers of the still small voice within. People sometimes call me crazy or weird because they can't see the larger picture—but then often I don't see that picture either. I end up doing some things that puzzle me and I'm sure others, but I do it on faith and trust none-the-less.
Twenty one years after Johnny died, I received a call from one of the women whom called Elaine, "Sponsor."
"Elaine is the hospital," she explained, "She had been diagnosed with lung cancer. She'll be home in a few days and they say she has four months. We thought you should know."
I started crying because I knew she was going soon and because I was so far away and couldn't be there to help. Then a small voice whispered inside. I recognized it immediately as Johnny's voice—he spoke firmly and plainly, "Please buy some Lilies of the Valley, and send them to Mother. Write on the card, 'I'm waiting for you.' and sign my name."
Talk about arguing with an inner voice! Boy did I argue. It made it sound like she was going to die right away—it sounded weird again. But Johnny insisted and was urgent. "Please," he begged. In the end I did it, but I didn't put he'd be waiting—I simply signed his name.
There was an immediate outcry from the other sponsees. "How could she?" they railed, "How cruel!" and they refused to let me speak to her to explain. They "protected" Elaine from me and my seemingly "sinister" nature and not one had the courage to talk to me about the Lillies of the Valley and signing "Johnny."
Elaine died within 24 hours of receiving the flowers. She didn't make it home. I like to think she had an epiphany and quickly understood her son really did send the flowers and was waiting for her. I like to think she let go sooner than expected because she wanted to go to him. I like to think Johnny and Elaine are grateful for my service and courage.
I paid a price, though. Mainly that some women dear to me have chosen never to speak to me again. They even refused to give me a few small mementos she had left for each of us. I think about that day once in a while. Would I do it differently today?
Yes, I would. I would sign just what Johnny told me; I would not edit the message. I would do so even though it looked weird. I'm sure Elaine felt weird too about taking so much joy in her sponsees so soon after the death of her son. Many years ago, she gave me the courage to go forth into life and live it clean and sober. I can only hope I gave her the same courage to go forth into the next life into the loving arms of Johnny. Her final lesson to me? Don't argue with the inner voice!
The voice, whether my Higher Power, higher self, or some type of angel, has never failed to prompt, protect, and propel me along a clean and sober path these last 39 years. Not to say I haven't argued with that pesky voice from time to time. The first "message" from my new-found friend, came early in sobriety. I, along with other young people in recovery, had been helping 19 year-old blond haired Johnny get off drugs. Even though his mother, Elaine, was sober in AA, her handsome son was not to follow in her footsteps. He left our half way house, got back on speed, and ended up in a terrible auto accident. Johnny lay in a coma in the hospital. At first it appeared he might recover, but a "voice" in a dream told me otherwise.
"That's the dead man's arm," a voice shouted as Johnny reached out to me from a dream. I awoke knowing he wasn't going to live. I didn't want to know. "Why tell me, tell her," I moaned. Elaine kept a constant bedside vigil and I wasn't about to tell her a voice told me he wouldn't come out of the coma. On the 12th day, he slipped away and I wondered if it would have been easier for Elaine had she known when I did.
Two months later at a 12th step club, an inner voice urged me to ask Elaine to sponsor me. I didn't really know this strait-laced prudish woman, my friend's mom. We had nothing in common. I didn't want to ask. But the words blurted out, unbidden by me, "Will you be my sponsor?" She politely declined, and I left the club thoroughly embarrassed and feeling betrayed by my inner guidance.
That evening Elaine phoned. "This has never happened to me before," she explained, "but my Higher Power brought me to my knees and told me, I am not sending you sponsees for them, Elaine, I am sending them for you. So," her voice trembled, "I would be honored to be our sponsor, if you will still have me." That was her first lesson for me—don't argue with the inner voice!
This loving spiritual newly grieving woman then devoted her time to helping me stay sober. Others came. One young woman after another sought sobriety thorough her inspiring words until she was sponsoring 10 of us. She no longer had room for grief, but took joy in our progress and emerging spirituality. We learned so many things from her—honesty, open-mindedness, how to be of service to others and how to follow the promptings of the inner voice. To us, she was an angel sent from God.
I soon discovered that my sponsor was not so strait-laced after all; she was just low-key about her beliefs. This marvelous woman was an astrologer! She read Edgar Cayce just like I did, and fit the 12th step program right into the metaphysical. Elaine did not consider me weird when I finally told her that Johnny had contacted me more than once. Instead, she took me in her arms and wept with joy. I was ashamed that my fear of rejection had prevented me from being of service at the time. I was ashamed that I had almost deprived myself of her wisdom and guidance because I argued with my voice.'
Through the loving guidance of Elaine, practicing the principles of the program and doing the next right thing, I have attempted to listen and serve on the whispers of the still small voice within. People sometimes call me crazy or weird because they can't see the larger picture—but then often I don't see that picture either. I end up doing some things that puzzle me and I'm sure others, but I do it on faith and trust none-the-less.
Twenty one years after Johnny died, I received a call from one of the women whom called Elaine, "Sponsor."
"Elaine is the hospital," she explained, "She had been diagnosed with lung cancer. She'll be home in a few days and they say she has four months. We thought you should know."
I started crying because I knew she was going soon and because I was so far away and couldn't be there to help. Then a small voice whispered inside. I recognized it immediately as Johnny's voice—he spoke firmly and plainly, "Please buy some Lilies of the Valley, and send them to Mother. Write on the card, 'I'm waiting for you.' and sign my name."
Talk about arguing with an inner voice! Boy did I argue. It made it sound like she was going to die right away—it sounded weird again. But Johnny insisted and was urgent. "Please," he begged. In the end I did it, but I didn't put he'd be waiting—I simply signed his name.
There was an immediate outcry from the other sponsees. "How could she?" they railed, "How cruel!" and they refused to let me speak to her to explain. They "protected" Elaine from me and my seemingly "sinister" nature and not one had the courage to talk to me about the Lillies of the Valley and signing "Johnny."
Elaine died within 24 hours of receiving the flowers. She didn't make it home. I like to think she had an epiphany and quickly understood her son really did send the flowers and was waiting for her. I like to think she let go sooner than expected because she wanted to go to him. I like to think Johnny and Elaine are grateful for my service and courage.
I paid a price, though. Mainly that some women dear to me have chosen never to speak to me again. They even refused to give me a few small mementos she had left for each of us. I think about that day once in a while. Would I do it differently today?
Yes, I would. I would sign just what Johnny told me; I would not edit the message. I would do so even though it looked weird. I'm sure Elaine felt weird too about taking so much joy in her sponsees so soon after the death of her son. Many years ago, she gave me the courage to go forth into life and live it clean and sober. I can only hope I gave her the same courage to go forth into the next life into the loving arms of Johnny. Her final lesson to me? Don't argue with the inner voice!
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