Journaling: First Group

I received a surprise text last night from my dear former bishop informing me that a neighboring stake had a women's group! He knew what kind of group I was seeking, and that I preferred all females, so this was a welcomed surprise. I didn't have much time to prepare, so I just made myself go rather than give myself time to talk myself out of it.

Let me just get straight to the point: it wasn't the right type of meeting for me.

Yes, it took me a bit before I realized that the lady was changing all the words in the manual from "addicted" to "circumstance" or "healing", and that's because the audience was one of women with loved ones with an addiction. Oi! It didn't help that they were reviewing step one: honesty! I felt like the most dishonest individual in there--nodding my head some, not revealing my secret identity.

I actually pulled out a paper and vigorously "took notes", when in reality I was writing down all the generalizations the leader kept saying about addicts, and everything else I disagreed with. Ugh. This meeting was not for me, and honestly I still don't appreciate much of her preaching like she knew all about how addicts think. But....it is what it is, and I didn't say anything about it so I guess I shouldn't now.

Towards the end of our time, I realized that despite it being the wrong meeting, they were still using the same manual and that I could probably still get something good out of this. Honestly, my take away message was this paragraph:

"The central feature of pride is enmity--enmity towards God and enmity toward our fellow men. Enmity means 'hatred toward, hostility to, or a state of opposition.' It is the power by which Satan wishes to reign over us. 

Pride is essentially competitive in nature. We pit our will against God's. When we direct our pride toward God, it is in the spirit of 'my will and not thine be done.' ..."

And that, my new blogger friends, is who I have been this week--the self-proclaimed commander in chief hanging onto my pride and its not getting me anywhere.

Surprisingly, although I bolted out the door quickly, I let the embarrassment consume me and the tears come for only a few seconds but that was all I needed. I determined that the Spirit could've touched me had I let it. And now as I reflect back on the night and how I feel at this moment, I think it did. Perhaps a brick off of my wall of pride did get chipped tonight. I don't feel angry or bitter right now and that is something to celebrate. That, and my bishop's birthday. Happy Birthday, Bishop.