Monday Night Reflections: God Buzzes & God Winks
I almost didn’t go tonight. I’d missed last week’s meeting while getting ready for a trip, and there was that whisper in my head again: Do I really need to go? Not because I doubt AA’s value, but because I get restless when things feel repetitive. It’s that addiction-to-chaos mindset still hanging around, even after 18 months sober.
But I went. Because sometimes the moments I least feel like showing up are the ones I need the most.
🗣️ This Week’s Topic: God Buzzes & God Winks
The leader tonight was someone I’ve seen every week but had never heard lead. He kicked things off by admitting he might call on people if no one spoke. That instantly sent my anxiety into overdrive — my luck would surely mean I’d be next. (Spoiler: I wasn’t, but still… not a fan of that game.)
The topic he chose was God buzzes or God winks — those little nudges, coincidences, or reminders that keep us going. Around the room, people shared their moments: a spouse’s painful words, witnessing someone else stumble drunk out of a cab, or even losing a loved one. Big, jarring wake-up calls.
For me, much like my path into sobriety, there hasn’t been one giant lightning bolt moment. No single God wink that cracked me open. Instead, it’s been a steady rhythm of smaller ones. Dozens upon dozens. Each one enough to keep me from slipping back.
It’s how I used to pray at night, terrified to ask God to save me because I’d let Him down too many times already. Now my prayer is simple: “Thank you for my sobriety.” That shift itself feels like a God wink.
💡 What I’m Taking With Me
One memory that surfaced tonight came from last December. Rhonda, Lacie, and I went to EPCOT for the Candlelight Processional with Ralph Macchio. (Yes, the Karate Kid himself.) It was an incredible trip, but the moment that stuck wasn’t the performance — it was later that night.
Lacie and I had gone to grab food and were walking back to the room together. I remember trailing behind her, just watching her in that simple, ordinary moment. And something inside tapped me on the shoulder. A God wink. A reminder that I was fully there — present, sober, alive in a way I hadn’t been for years.
That’s what I’m carrying forward this week: the awareness that the winks don’t always come with fireworks. Sometimes they’re in the quietest steps behind the people you love most.
