The poem I wrote this morning, The Question In My Head, was on my mind today, as was its question “Do you love me?”

I shared the question at AA at noon. And as I left the meeting, people I did not know told me they loved me. Quite an experience.

I guess I let people know I was vulnerable. And in need.

The question repeats itself, over and over,

arises, apparently, at random.

Who asks it? Am I the inquirer?

If so to whom do I ask it?

Or does someone, who has no face, ask it of me?

Do you love me?

The Sunday Obligation weighed heavily  upon me today. Deciding that Saturday’s 5:30 Vigil Mass was too much for us after our day of motoring, we limited our choices to Sunday’s offering. I slept through the 8:30 Mass. I wanted to go to the 1100 AA meeting at the clubhouse. I was glad I went. I learned a new meaning for the word Salvation. The translators of the King James Bible used salvation to convey the meaning of the Hebrew word “to come home”.

The Advent Season is about awakening. Bach’s prelude “Sleepers Awake“, heard during this season, makes the point. Suddenly the Messiah appears to show us the way home. The Advent Season, is the run up to the Season of The Nativity, The Incarnation.

The last thing human beings want to admit is that they are lost. The husband who won’t ask for directions is one of the classic jokes of the rivalry between the sexes. Within the context of recovery “coming home” involves a second chance at life. For many of us in recovery, this is the literal truth. We were physically dying. The obituaries are daily filled with the names of our friends who don’t make it back to health.

We finally made it to the 5:00 PM Mass. The music at this Mass is mostly sappy and annoying. But I go to Mass for time with Our Lord, present in the consecrated Bread and Wine.

Our modern time is an escape from truth and beauty, that truth and beauty are unknowable and relativistic value judgements. The simple truths are that alcohol and drugs kill. There’s not much relativism to a corpse.

During this Thanksgiving Season, there are questions that after all these years still puzzle me.

1) What did the Pilgrims make their balloons from for their Thanksgiving Day Parade?

2) Where did the Pilgrims go shopping on Black Friday?

3) Did the Pilgrims or the Indigenous Tribal Population make the Green Bean Casserole?

Today is J’s birthday, her 65th. We are supposed to meet her brother and his wife in Fredericksburg for brunch. Only problem is I don’t want to go.

More later on this developing story.

We drove up. Traffic on I-95 Northbound during a major holiday weekend was not bad. We departed early enough and drove only about 55 miles.

Brunch was pleasant at the hip restaurant in the converted bank. I had a black bean “burger”, declining the usual egg variants characteristic of an American “brunch”.

I wore my “red ball” cricket tie, as a conversation starter. Most people think the red ball is a Christmas tree ornament. D, J’s sister-in-law, has lived in Perth, near the WACA cricket stadium. So cricket ball was her second guess. When living in Australia, she never could get used to following the game. I said it takes a while, then one discovers how simple the game is.

The point is to keep the bowling side from taking a wicket. The batting side scores runs in the course of preventing wickets from being taken. That is pretty much it. Actually it is all I want to say about it now.

Driving home on Route 1 was uneventful, relatively fast and no where near as stressful as I-95. Those living overseas or in parts of the US of A not served by I-95, pick your nearest nightmarish Hell of a road to comprehend the East Coast experience.

I am now home, tired and glad it’s over

In AA, we like to say we can start our day over at any time. Nothing bad has happened. But I feel a nap and a re-boot are in order.

It is all I can do to refrain from multi-tasking. I am alone, at home, J is at work, prepping for the Black Friday onslaught. (Don’t get me started. This should be a No Rant day.)

Truth be told, I love the silent house, silent except for the refrigerator compressor.

Thanksgiving is at 2:00 PM at my sister’s. I plan to go to a meeting at noon. The Y is closed today.

To all my blogosphere companions, Happy Thanksgiving.

For some reason, I accidentally disabled comments on the earlier post Free(Frozen) Bird…

I have no idea what I did, but WP says comments are allowed for future posts. I hope this works

Frustrating,