Like everyone else in Quaran-Town, I’ve been glued to the news. So you can say we’re both doing our part. He saves lives every day in an overworked New York Hospital and I #stayhome. He’s trained his whole life for the skills and character to dutifully save lives without any fanfare and recognition. My best-good-friend is a verifiable hero in a time where heroes are going to make the difference between a death toll in the thousands and one in the tens or hundreds of thousands. Thomas is neck-deep in the muck of fighting this disease in the New York epicenter. You know, almost every day, I think about Thomas. I think about AA meetings amidst this crisis and I find myself praying. There’s a mighty power in this, a power that is sometimes just enough to keep us from tumbling back down into the pit. Sunday nights are testimony night where sleep deprivation takes hold of everyone and the walls come down. It felt like Sunday Nights at Winter Retreat. What would it mean if you voiced those out loud and had people not judge you. Think about the hardest truths you’ve never had the courage come to grips with about yourself. They accepted each other because they knew they were the same. And after they finished, other people would smile at them and nod and clap. I saw people sharing about their lowest points. The meeting itself seemed to have a liturgy, a routine that lends special power through repetition and consistency. When I think back on it, I can’t remember the specifics of any of those stories, only how it felt to be in the room. Then, when we did start, people casually opened up and shared about what they’ve done and how they were doing. It felt like people waiting for a pick-up basketball game to start. When I was waiting, I could see that a lot of people were there as part of their routine, or as part of a court-ordered mandate, so there wasn’t intensity in the room, just a kind of familial energy. People were warm and friendly, but not pushy. I think I pictured a cold room with a circle of chairs and a lectern, people wearing khakis and work polos would share stories about hitting rock bottom. It was an assignment for my Pastoral Ministry class, but if I’m being honest, I’ve always wanted to go to an AA meeting. A steady routine of accountability and catharsis, or at the very least, stale coffee and familiar faces was an essential tool to stem the tide of a personal darkness.Ībout a year ago, I went to a meeting in Orange. How are people going to meetings? For a lot of people, monthly, weekly, even daily meetings were and are the life-blood for a life of sobriety. In the midst of all of the confusion with COVID-19, I hadn’t thought about AA meetings. This post isn’t really about the show because about two minutes into season 6, I sort of freaked out. But this post isn’t really about the show. On top of that, Bojack from time to time tumbles into interminable tongue twisting tirades of titillating tête-à-tête. It’s a show that shines a light on addiction, self-loathing and despite the prevalence of animals, it really highlights humanity. It reaches deep down and resonates with some of the best darkest places. So it was finally time for me to watch Season 6 of Bojack Horseman. This week, it felt like I needed something to cleanse the palate. Triple Frontier felt like it had the potential to be good, but fell flat at the end. Spenser Confidential didn’t know what movie it wanted to be. I may or may not have spent my weekend watching some of the trashy mid-budget action flicks Netflix seems to be pushing out for the masses. And then, invariably, I revved up the engine on that old demon…Netflix. I ate my way a little bit too quickly through a Post-Mates Pad Thai and settled down with a watered-down Thai Tea. Today, we had no such serendipitous scheduling. Most days, the timing works out where she’ll swing on her baby seat while we eat hasty panicked mouthfuls before she grows impatient with the lack of attention. This evening, I sat down to eat my dinner quickly as Stephy fed a grumpy wee-baby-Shelby.
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