From the Grass Roots

AFTER my first meeting in AA a war was declared between AA and me. There was to be no quarter asked or given. It was to be a struggle to the death. So it was. I died--a slow, lingering, spiritual death. The mystery of my rebirth in the AA fellowship overflows my cup with gratitude. With expanding confidence through the months and years that have grown between now and the time of my last drunk, the techniques of AA have cut away the weeds and thorns, so that the outline of what I was created for assumes a visible and understandable shape.