Jesus Hugs Me

I'd had two big beers and dinner and a bottle of champagne after and my eyes seemed destined to tear up as I typed. It had been a hard day.

You see, I have suffered from depression for most of my adult life and my kids...it breaks my heart sometimes to think about the example I have given them.

I listen to a man of God on the Internet. His father was an alcoholic. Alcoholism is not the root cause of alcoholism. You don't escape from yourself because you are an alcoholic. You escape from yourself because what you are hurts you. The alcohol just makes the pain go away for a little while. You become an alcoholic because you have a predisposition to it.

I don't. But I understand depression. My wife doesn't. I hope that my kids never do, either. But if they don't, they are going to have some difficult things to work out. And today, I understood the depth of some of those things. I hope they never understand, but I fear that they will.

Jesus stood next to me at the beer and wine department at Publix, a local supermarket chain. Cook's champagne was on sale and I was trying to figure out whether I wanted Brut or Extra Dry.

"What's up with you?" Jesus said.

"I want to get drunk."

"Why is that?"

"You're Jesus," I said. "You figure it out."

"You're kind of bitchy tonight."

I reached out and touched the champagne to make sure it was cold. Warm champagne sucks.

"Did it take your divine powers to figure that one out?" I asked him.

"No, that one was apparent to the person you yelled at for touching their brakes."

I chuckled in spite of myself.

"There was no reason to brake at that point," I said. "Though your point is well taken."

I smiled at Him. Not entirely happily. Sometimes I hate it when He is right.

"You have had a couple," He said.

"Yes I have, but I walked here."

"I know. It is good that you did."

He went though the checkout with me, talking to me. He made the cashier laugh, when he almost doubled over in laughter after she proofed me. I am almost twice the legal drinking age, though I don't mind people thinking I'm not.

Eventually, he wound up in my front room, which I have made my office, as I chatted on the Internet and drank what I brought home.

"Why are you so sad?" he asked.

"You're friggin God. You tell me."

He smiled and looked at the laptop where Game Six of the 1975 Series was playing. Bernie Carbo had just hit his game-tying home run on the second PC on my desk. I had the baseball package on the Internet and a laptop from work that I could use to stream things on while I did other things.

"Red Sox fans were in love with me after Fisk hit that home run," He said. "You should have heard them after Joe Morgan homered the next night...or Bucky Dent in '78. And if My Father were as mean as people think, half of New England would have been charred in '86."

I didn't chuckle or giggle that time. I outright laughed. As someone who had to deal with the slings and arrows of Mets fandom, I understood.

"You must have been popular last year," I said, referring to the Red Sox finally winning after 86 years.

"Yeah. Didn't have anything to do with the fact that they finally had a better team," He said.

"They had a better team in '78," I said.

"No they didn't."

I sucked down the last of my champagne.

"Is there a point you are trying to make?" I asked.

"I know why your soul hurts," he said, "and you ought to thank me for it."

"You're nuts."

He picked up the mostly empty champagne bottle, shook his head slightly, and put it down.

"Before you got laid off, would you say that you had substance?"

"Yeah, but not as much as I do now."

"And would you say that experience, and all the awful things you did during that experience helped you in the long run or hurt you?"

I picked up the glass and sipped.

"It helped me. A guy I know told me that I would be thankful for the experience when it was over and that I'd look at it as a good thing," I said. "And to answer the question you are about to ask, I do look at it as a good thing."

"Why?"

"Because I understand some things now that I didn't before and I can help people who go through those things."

He leaned back on the bed in my office and looked at me.

"Why are you drinking tonight?"

"I'm afraid of what I am doing to the kids," I said. "My son doesn't like me. He won't speak to me and when he does, it is often with contempt."

He laughed.

"You've been a parent for almost 12 years, with your daughter," He said. "You have to know by now that kids will do that. It isn't a reason to fall apart."

"He sees in me what I see...a man who...a bad example."

"In some things, you are right. But does he know you love him?"

"Yeah. I think so."

"And are you going to get loaded any more over this?"

"Maybe. Not any time soon though...new years resolution. I gotta cut out the drink and the junk food."

"How come?"

"Because it will eventually kill me if I don't."

He smiled at me. Broadly.

"Do you know what your son will learn from you tomorrow?"

"How to be a screw up?"

"No, he will learn that even when stuff hurts, you can go on and try harder and do the right thing. And that one bad day is not the sum of your existence," Jesus said.

"Pretty basic."

"Yeah, it is. It's also one of the things that people miss most often," He said. "Chris, I like you. I mean I like you. I enjoy spending time with you. I like these discussions because you don't run away from them when I bring up something difficult. In fact, you seem more determined then to understand it. I enjoy your company. Seriously."

I smiled at Him. His eyes were warm and seemed to soothe my anguish, but not take it away.

"It is not silly that you hurt over this," He said, once again answering something I thought. "It may be a little melodramatic how you play it out, but it's not silly."

I nodded.

"My father understands that pain. He understands what it's like when His child ignores Him and won't acknowledge His existence," Jesus said. "Hurts, doesn't it?"

"Yeah. I guess I will try to do it less often."

"You are going to be tired in the morning. Go to bed. We'll talk more another time."