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September 26, 2019

This morning, I hope my friend wakes up in a hospital. He was admitted last night in a full psychotic rage, with a blood alcohol percentage of 2.1. In these last few months he had run through every good thing in his life and was down to remote friends like me.

And intimate strangers like Jesus.

If he is there, he will not kill himself as my sister did two years ago, almost to the day.

Why should I fear this? Because all three of us, my sibling, my friend and I all were raised in bad circumstances. My sibling had two marriages that could never work, a sex change in search of healing what was, permanently, broken in a alcoholic scream fest that was our home. My friend was horrifically abused and coped his entire life, including surviving a marital end with the love of his children.

Both drank a great deal. But dealt with trying to find peace, and so far, both failed. Both loved, deeply, the Episcopal Church. But they broke.

I, incoherently, survived. Never had a breakdown, also love the church, and had two delicious cocktails last night. I have a wife who loves me, and two wonderful sons. Only God knows why my brokenness is limited to zero perspective and night terrors.

But history never, ever, can be changed, or ignored, or, for the very, very young, understood, even rationalized.

“A study published in 2015 showed that the more adverse childhood experiences a person has, the higher their risk of health and wellness problems later in life.”

So I read this morning, from the internet. The obvious offers no comfort, because we already know it. Of course I called his priest, his soon to be ex, and told my friends and wife about it and asked them to pray for him.

And I, for once, prayed, in the awkward, halting, incoherent way those who are damaged try to connect to the unfathomable reality of “why”, but more, “please”. I wish I knew what will happen, but that reality is as unknown as the past is irrevocably settled law.

Please let him recover, start taking his meds, stop drinking, be with his children. Please.

This all may happen. I want it to happen. I want God to want it to happen. But the history we are wrought by is unrelenting. Death makes forgiveness and understanding beyond problematic. So bothering the God of all gifts and hopes is, this time, worth it.

Please, God, Jesus, give my friend Peace. Please.

2 Comments leave one →
  1. Janet permalink
    September 29, 2019 3:08 pm

    You may not know this, but as the sun wanes in the sky this month and next, many people with depression find themselves more despondent. Small comfort as we wade these waters. It only serves me me as a warning to take particular care in watching those I love as they navigate through the year. Get in the sun while you can, breath in the fresh warm air. Hugs. I pray your friend gets through this.

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