Now, what am I talking about? I’m talking about the only security there is. When you and I think that we are secure because we have a job, or that we have some dough in the bank, or this or that or the other thing, don’t you believe it. That became one of the greatest living lessons I have ever learned because there’s never been a day since then or an hour since then that I haven’t known where my security is. It’s my own relationship with my own God. And so, yes, one day at a time, one second at a time, the is-ness of the now is the only thing. It is not that we do not make appointments for next year. If you’d see my calendar, you’d know what I’m talking about. It’s not that we don’t know what we’re going to do tomorrow when we’re in the business world. But it’s that we do today’s job today and tomorrow’s job tomorrow, and we don’t get ’em mixed up. Again and again and again, I can stand up here and tell you gentlemen, God is sufficient unto all of my needs. And he is. I’m telling the truth. But if I don’t do something about it, I starve to death. It’s a true statement, but there’s something for me to do. The gift of God was made at the foundations of the Earth, but not on my terms, on His. And His terms are that I act like His kid, that I go about His business, and when I do that, I come into my inheritance. And it’s that simple. It’s that simple. It’s my business to go about His business, and it’s His business to take care of me. Now, we got one more session. This is the only one I’ve taken you overtime, and it was your fault. So until the next meeting, God bless you. Don’t too many of you two go, go home because we’re going to talk about the prodigal son this afternoon for a little while, and it’s the greatest story on Earth as far as I’m concerned. It’s my story. All good things have to come to an end, I guess. But in thinking again, this might be just the beginning, not the end. I want to thank you gentlemen for coming down here. I don’t believe that we could have handpicked a group of men that would have been more to our purpose than the ones that are here. This is a fabulous bunch of guys. It’s been a most amazingly beautiful weekend. Been a lot of love in the grounds and in the meeting rooms and in the hospitality rooms. Lot of love. The spirit has been excellent. As far as I’m concerned, I’ve never been through anything that has been more nearly right, uh, than this has been for me. And I thank you very much for coming. I want that we, again, should give Bart a bagel- -and John Creed and Hal a good rousing- Been a lot of work going into this, and they did it. Mainly Hal. The other two were not fullbacks, they were drawbacks. I can think of nothing that I might have wanted to say when I got down here that I haven’t said sometime during these hours that we’ve been together. Of course, we could talk about this thing from now to Christmas and never get through Because there’s, there’s no way that you can get through talking about this. One of the greatest things about being, getting older in the program of Alcoholics Anonymous is the memories that build over the years. The memories, these tremendous experiences that we have one with another as we go along. I remember when we went to Toronto in ’65 for the International up there. There’s an old boy by the name of Frank McLean from Edmonton. I’d met Frank a number of years before, and he was… I had a beautiful experience with him. And I was hoping as we went up there that Frank might be there. And he came. And, uh, when I spotted him, immediately went for coffee, and we sat down there and talked. And I told him how I so wanted him to be there. And I says, “All the way up here, I was thinking about supposing five years ago, I had have said to myself, ‘I’ve done enough. I’ve done my stint. I’m gonna take it easy. I’m gonna retire. Let the other guys have it now. I’ve done my thing.’ And I was so happy coming up here that I hadn’t done that because I feel that the last five years has been the greatest period of my own growth.” And the tears came into old Frank’s eyes, and he sat there, and he says, “I drove down here from Edmonton, and all the way down, I was thanking God that I had remained active in Alcoholics Anonymous because I felt that the, the last few years have been my greatest period of growth.” And I’m sure that one of the great spiritual values of things like this is the memories that’ll go with us through the years. Sharing our experience, strength, and hope, one with another in love. It’s a beautiful thing. And as we said a while ago, this ain’t no big deal. This ain’t no big deal. People don’t get sober on profundities. They don’t get sober on intellectual knowledge. It ain’t no big deal. It’s a little deal. Little things are the things we remember. There’s a guy came up to me 20-some years ago in Claremont, and I believe he’s the ugliest man I ever saw. He was tall, six four, five, and he had kinky hair, and it was standing straight up. And he had ears like that, with a great beak on him, and no teeth. He didn’t have teeth in his head. And after the talk, he came up to me, and he smelled like two breweries. Not one, two. And he says, “Chuck, I heard what you said, and I’m not gonna have to drink anymore.” And every Christmas from that time, wherever the guy’s been, on Christmas Day, I get a call from him. And I answer the phone. He says, “Don’t take that first drink.” He said, “If you don’t take that first drink, you can’t get drunk.” It’s been 20-some odd years, and he’s called me every year. “I heard what you said, and I don’t have to drink anymore.” Little things that make these things so big. And a few little things I want to share with you before we go into the last business of the day. Many of you have heard me say this, but it’s more real to me today than it ever was. Twenty-some odd years ago, I talked on Sunday night in Highland Park. And after the meeting, there were four or five of us standing in the middle of the room with our arms on each other’s shoulders. And we were saying to each other, “How lucky can a man be? How lucky can a man be? How fortunate can you be that a tongue-chewing, babbling, idiot drunk could have a life like this? How fortunate could you be?” And one kid wasn’t saying anything. And pretty soon he looked to me, and he says, “Chuck,” he says, “I’m ignorant. I ain’t never read no books.” He says, “There’s no sense in me reading books because I don’t understand them.” He says, “I don’t know nothing about God.” He says, “I don’t know nothing about the Bible. But this, no man can take away from me.” He says, “When I do these simple things one day at a time to the best of my ability, I feel clean inside, and good things happen in my life.” And when I could talk, I says, “Son, don’t ever read no books, no time.” That’s the very essence of all the books that were written. That’s what we want, that we might feel clean inside and have good things happen in our lives. And about three or four years ago, I was talking to an Island Park group, and Eddie Hawthorne was there. And I got to thinking, “Well, Eddie was in that meeting that night when this monkey said, ‘I’m ignorant.'” So after the thing was over, as soon as I could sneak away, I caught Eddie on his way out. And I says, “Eddie, do you remember who it was that said, ‘I ain’t never read no books. I’m ignorant?'” Eddie said, “No.” And he started to walk away. And he came back. He said, “It was me.” You know, and it was. It was Eddie. And he’s had 25 years or so. Sober, happy in this program. It’s beautiful. A little earlier than that, I was at jacks someplace. I don’t know where. And there was a kid came up to me, and he says, “Chuck,” he says, “do you know why it’s so hard for us to find God?” And I didn’t want to answer him. I was tired. I wanted to get the hell out of there. And I thought to myself, “I’m going to have to listen for an hour to some explanation of why it’s so hard for us to find God.” And I couldn’t get away from him, so I had to say, “No. Why is it so hard for us to find God?” And he says, “Because he ain’t lost.” Because he ain’t lost. Isn’t that fabulous? Because he ain’t lost. He says, “You see, all we gotta do is come back home, and we find God’s always been there. We’ve been away.” And there was another old boy. His name was Big Smith. Big Smith was from Flint, Michigan. And he was my kind of a drunk. He was the kind of guy that drove his car off the end of a pier and through brick buildings. He’d sort of crippled himself up a bit. One leg was about that much longer than the other, and he’d walk like he was sneaking up on somebody. Smitty came into a meeting in Hawthorne. Twenty-seven years ago, I expect it was. And he had a little plaque on his arm. And he picked it up in a hospital down in, uh, Texas. And here’s what the plaque said. It said, “If you’re not as close to God as you once were or as you would like to be, make no mistake, you’re the one that moved.” And Smitty says, “You see, all we gotta do is come back home, and we find that God’s always been there. We’ve been away.” And there was another little thing that I have treasured over the years. I don’t know where it came from. I don’t know where I got it. But it’s a fish story, too. You remember we had a fish story already. Here’s another one, and this is a story about three little fish. The coast of Laguna, just playing around. They had had breakfast. They weren’t even hungry. They were just playing around there. And a big wise fish swam by, and he says, “Good morning, boys. Isn’t the water fine this morning?” And he swam on off. And as soon as he got out of hearing, these little fish got together and said, “Wait a minute, wait a minute.” Says, “The boy spoke about water.” Says, “What’s water?” Says, “You, do you ever hear of water?” And he says, “No.” Says, “How about you? Did you ever hear…” “Never heard of it.” Says, “Neither did I.” So they swam all over the Pacific Ocean hunting for water. In which they lived and moved and had their being. Fascinating. Now, I’m going to tell you a little story, and I’m going to use my own interpretation of it. Some of you might not think I have the right to change it a little, but I’m telling the story. And this is my story, and it’s your story. It does more to explain me to me and you to me and our relationship to God than pretty nearly anything I’ve ever seen. The story of the prodigal son. And it goes something like this. A certain wealthy man had two sons. And the youngest one of them came to his dad, and he says, “Dad, I’ve got me some ideas. I’m going out to Hollywood. They do a lot of things out there. There’s big deals out there. Motion picture industry is big, and, uh, you can do big things out there. So,” says he, “give me my inheritance.” And the father gave it to him. Now, the father didn’t say, “Wait a minute, son. We’re wealthy. We have everything you need right here. Stay home. You’ll get-” Out there away from home, away from your family. And you’re liable to get in trouble. You might run onto a blonde with a bottle of muscadoodle and get into a hell of a lot of trouble. Stay home. He didn’t say that. He didn’t say nothing. The kid says, “Give me my inheritance,” and he gave it to him. And the kid went away from home into a far country and wasted his substance on riotous living. Now, that might not fit you, but it fits me pretty good. Sounds suspiciously like me. And he wasted his substance on riotous living. And when he had spent it all, there arose a mighty famine in the land. And as serious as this is, it’s ticking the hell out of me. If there was ever a bunch of people that should understand a famine, it’s us. How many times have you come home drunk? Found everybody that you knew looking for you. Ninety percent of them just tell you they never want to see you again. And the other ten percent have been trying to bank one of your checks with a tennis racket. These are difficulties. I don’t think they make famines like that no more. That’s a famine. So the kid, after he’d spent it all, there arose a mighty famine in the land. And what did he do? Did he come back home? No, he didn’t. He did just like you did, and like I did. He went to a man in that country. We did, too. We went to a man in that country, doctors, psychiatrists, priests, preachers. He went to a man in that country, and the man put him to work. And of all the things he might have put him to do, and he didn’t, he gave him the job tending the pigs. Now, this is very significant because this is a Jew boy telling this story. And Jews don’t like pigs. There would be nothing so obnoxious to a Jew than having to tend pigs. And there he was, tending the pigs. Meaningful it is because that means the guy was down, low. He was low down. We have a name for it. We call it a low bottom, and he done hit himself a low bottom tending pigs. And while he was in the pigpen with the pigs, he got hungry, and he freely would eat the husks that the pigs did eat, and no man gave unto him. He was beyond human help, and no man gave unto him. Probably no human power could have relieved our alcoholism. Same thing. And while he was there with everything gone, it occurred to him, to him that in his father’s house was plenty, plenty in spare. They were wealthy. And here he was, totally done in. But he said to himself, “I can’t go back there and say to my father, ‘Look, Dad, I’m your boy. Do you recognize me? I’m your son.'” Couldn’t do that. Couldn’t do that. The self-condemnation that goes with the, the disease of alcoholism. How we condemned ourselves. How we hated ourselves for the failure that we were making in the business of living. And so it was with him. But he also remembered that the servants back there, the hired servants, were pretty well taken care of. They were living a lot better than he was. And so he said to himself, “I’m going back home, and I’m going not to say I’m your son. How about taking me back on?” But he said, “I’m going to apply for a servant’s job.” Hired servant. And he says, “I will arise and go to my father.” We made a decision. We made a decision to turn over our lives over to the care of God. Very parallel to my life, all the way through. It’s my story, and your story, I think. So he got up and started home. Now, here’s the miracle of Alcoholics Anonymous. Here’s the thing itself. This is the essence of our program. The kid is making– made his decision, and he started home. And the father saw him a long ways off and came to meet him. Ah, this is fantastic. And the father saw me a long ways off. And the man says to me, “Mister, were you looking for somebody?” And I said, “No, sir.” And he says, “What were you looking for?” I’m thinking it was better, and I said, “Well, if it would interest you, sir, I was looking for sobriety.” And everything about that man changed in the twinkling of an eye. I was hooked before he ever opened his mouth again. Because it was obvious that he was glad I was there, when everybody that knew me wouldn’t even spit on me. My own flesh and blood wouldn’t have anything to do with me. And here was a stranger, so glad that I was there that he lit up. And when he spoke again, this is what he said. He says, “Why, take off your hat and coat. You’re in the right place.” And he took me in and offered me sleep. God came to meet me through you, who had already found your way. Now, I didn’t know you, but you knew me, because I was an alcoholic. And it didn’t make any difference. You didn’t ask me if I was hot, if I was in bad with the law, if I owed money, if I had turned over a new leaf, if I was sorry for my sins. You didn’t say those things to me. Have you quit drinking? You didn’t say that. You said, “Take off your hat and coat. You’re in the right place.” And so the father saw the kid a long ways off, and he came to meet him. And the kid started trying to tell him what a bum he’s, he was, what a failure he had been in the business of living. And again, the father didn’t hear him, didn’t argue with him at all. He didn’t say, “Look, I’ve got the, I’ve got the record on you right here.” “And you sure are a bum. You’re no good. I’ve got it. I’ve found you. I know every time you turned right when you should have turned left. Now, get the grubbing hoe and get back here on the back forty, and grub out those persimmon sprouts and sassafras bushes. And maybe if you do a good job, twenty-five years from now, I’ll invite you in, and, and I’ll invite you in for lunch.” He didn’t say that. He didn’t say nothing. He fell on his neck and kissed him. And he put a ring on his finger, the symbol of eternal life, no beginning and no end. And he called to the servants, and he says, “Kill the fatted calf. We’re gonna have a party. The boy was dead, and he’s now alive. He was lost, and he’s come back home, so let’s have a party.” No condemnation, no reprimand, no argument. The love of the father for his child. You and I, having run out of our own resources, have been privileged to wander into an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting and to stay and to find this same experience, the Father, Son. We come home. It’s not normal to walk alone. It is not normal to walk alone. It’s normal for us to walk down the high road of life with our arms around each other, sharing our experience, strength, and hope one with another in love. This is normal. Normal as breathing. It’s not normal to be away from the Father’s house. We’re like little kids that are lost in the woods, and darkness has come on. We’re scared to death. And we wander into an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting and find ourselves, and each other, and God. What a deal it is. What a fabulous thing it is. Now, I recognized my problem thirty, uh, ten years before coming here, and that’s thirty-nine years ago. Thirty-nine years ago. And in this thirty-nine years, millions of men and women have died of the same disease that I had, the disease of alcoholism, because they didn’t find this place. There are many dying now, almost in rifle shot right here, dying of the disease of alcoholism. And they don’t know. They don’t know. We might say to ourselves, how come we were so fortunate? And there’s no answer to that. We were. And myself, having over ten thousand six hundred days, one day at a time, with the finest life that anybody ever dreamed of. And from a drunk, ruined, babbling idiot to a personally satisfactory, conscious partnership with the living God that made us in the entire business of living. What a transition. What a miracle of life. What a thing to keep us practicing these principles in all of our affairs and carrying this message to the alcoholic who still suffers. How fortunate are we that we have a lifetime job outlined for us in step twelve. And as I have said on many occasions, I don’t know who to be most grateful for or to. I don’t know. Because I didn’t come to you to find God. I didn’t come to you to get my wife back, or my kids, or my health, or my sanity. I’d looked for God for thirty years, and I couldn’t find Him because I had Him located someplace else. And I came here to find out how to live one day at a time without drinking. And guys just like you took me in and shared their experience, strength, and hope. But more than that, much more than that, their love Guys that I didn’t know. But they know me. They knew me, you see. And so, insofar as I am capable, capable of doing it, I will be attempting to share this thing with folks as long as there’s breath in me. And again, and again, and again. You guys get dearer to me all the time, all the time, because you’re the guys that nursed me back to health and helped me do that which I could not do alone, and showered enough love on me that I became, I hope, aware of the fact that God is love. God is love, and he that abideth in love abideth in God, and God abideth in him. And so I’m so grateful to you, you can’t see. I love you. It’s my joy to have had this weekend with you, and I shall never forget it because some part of every one of you is gonna be with me for the rest of my life. So I thank you again. And all I have to do is to look in the eyes of a bunch like this to see my God. God bless you. Thank you very much. disease that I had, the disease of alcoholism, because they didn’t find this place. There are many dying now, almost in rifle shot right here, dying of the disease of alcoholism. And they don’t know. They don’t know. We might say to ourselves, how come we were so fortunate? And there’s no answer to that. We were. And myself, having over ten thousand six hundred days, one day at a time, with the finest life that anybody ever dreamed of. And from a drunk, ruined, babbling idiot to a personally satisfactory, conscious partnership with the living God that made us in the entire business of living. What a transition. What a miracle of life. What a thing to keep us practicing these principles in all of our affairs and carrying this message to the alcoholic who still suffers. How fortunate are we that we have a lifetime job outlined for us in step twelve. And as I have said on many occasions, I don’t know who to be most grateful for or to. I don’t know. Because I didn’t come to you to find God. I didn’t come to you to get my wife back, or my kids, or my health, or my sanity. I’d looked for God for thirty years, and I couldn’t find Him because I had Him located someplace else. And I came here to find out how to live one day at a time without drinking. And guys just like you took me in and shared their experience, strength, and hope. But more than that, much more than that, their love Guys that I didn’t know. But they know me. They knew me, you see. And so, insofar as I am capable, capable of doing it, I will be attempting to share this thing with folks as long as there’s breath in me. And again, and again, and again. You guys get dearer to me all the time, all the time, because you’re the guys that nursed me back to health and helped me do that which I could not do alone, and showered enough love on me that I became, I hope, aware of the fact that God is love. God is love, and he that abideth in love abideth in God, and God abideth in him. And so I’m so grateful to you, you can’t see. I love you. It’s my joy to have had this weekend with you, and I shall never forget it because some part of every one of you is gonna be with me for the rest of my life. So I thank you again. And all I have to do is to look in the eyes of a bunch like this to see my God. God bless you. Thank you very much.