anonymous no more.

Yesterday my voice sounded like mine for the first time in 10 years.   All the people’s voices sounded like mine for the first time in 10 years.  The basket was being passed, dark beans were being sipped, and rituals were being both preserved and broken.  All of us, talking about the liquid that stayed with us and the hours and people and missed opportunities that left us.  A liquid all of our souls had been lubricated and left dry by.

I am an alcoholic.  I’ve never said it with intention until today.  I’ve never said it to this room of liquid courage until today.  The fetters, off, just for today.  I want to cry because it's a miracle, I'm not anonymous anymore.  I want to cry out the alcohol of all those years because I used it, in part, to mourn the loss of church.  But here church has returned to me, when I did not ask.  Church--that left me when I became me.  The saints here are just the kind I like: dirty, but open...so open to the life-changing notions

we, not me.

when i say "hello, my name is rachel and i am an alcoholic," the collective response is "hi rachel"--not "hi rachel, the alcoholic"

sunday is not the only holy day.

one hour is victory.

we are all pastors.  we are all audience.

we all have a different image when we hear the word 'god'.

sobriety is not our highest calling .