I'm out of tea. It was on the list, although there were only two things there, the rest just sitting in the back of my mind. I had to pick up medications for the people I live with, a usual chore for me. I can't remember the last time I filled a prescription for myself – I think it was toward the end of 2018, when I had bronchitis and a bad URI that needed some 'biotics and a little codeine.

I just wrote 'biotics there because I'm trying to get ahead of the slang curve. Like calling it the Rona virus. You have to get up pretty darn early to pass me on the vernacular front.

Anyway, I was terrified. Kind of low-level terror. I functioned just fine. It's hard to be around other people now, you get it. The store was pretty empty, but more folks than the last few times. I wanted to get in and out, grabbed some frozen pizza and milk and ice cream (i.e., staples) and headed for the door, wiping everything down as soon as I hit the parking lot. This is no way to go through life, son, but that's where we are.

So I forgot tea. I drink a lot of tea these days, but I can live without it. I don't want to die on a  Lipton hill. Maybe someone else here needs to go to the store for some necessity, but in this situation that really doesn't help. We're all in this together – one person's journey is shared with the household, always. Not enough wipes for that.

There's something to be said for having a job, which is not to say a real job. I'm still writing for the papers, although Lord knows how long they'll survive. I'm fortunate enough to have this faux syndication thing happening; as the newspapers that run my column cut editions and go to every other week, those weeks all include me. Again, for the time being. I'm not hopeful. I continue to try to entertain.

But this week is my job, and I'm grateful for it. Although talk about terror.

Holy Week. I write about it every year. We lurch through it, jog, sprint, and finally collapse on Easter Sunday, too exhausted to do anything but nap and try to go back to sleep when we wake up. My wife bears the responsibility but we're all involved; I'm usually baking all week, hours and hours, plus writing and planning. Trust me – there are no eggs or baskets involved, never have been. I'm completely confused by colored eggs. That part of Easter has never been our part, although an Easter egg hunt is a joy to watch. It's just never been part of our family.

We have four services this week. If you're a person who is baffled by church, wondering why responsible, intelligent people go somewhere once a week to talk to their sky friend, just know I'm not talking theology here. Theology takes care of itself. We don't need a building for that.

So, we have Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Easter Vigil on Saturday night, and then Easter Sunday.

We've opted for guided worship services, a combination of text and media, and so far it's working out well. It's a huge job, though, much more than a normal Holy Week. We're talking 12-hour days in this household, between the two of us, as my wife prepares services and I edit videos and web pages (with the other two pastors doing their stuff from their homes, same thing, many hours).

So I'm one of the lucky ones. My bank account is fine for the moment. My wife still has a job. Newspapers are printing. I know our world is going to change, but I can wallow for the moment in a sense of increased normalcy. I have something important to do (important to some, anyway).

It's a distraction, in a sense, and one that requires all my attention and quite a bit of my frazzled and nonlinear mind. I stare at the monitor, trying to slightly adjust a tracking matte on a shifting face and turn down the opacity on that silent video with key frames. This is crazy. My learning curve will never flatten.

But as I do it – and this is why I'm most grateful – I spend hours all day looking at faces. Familiar faces, too. People who take their phone and record a video of them saying a prayer, or singing a hymn. Try this. It's incredibly awkward and a vulnerable place, and still they do it, for the rest of us. My heart breaks open every day, multiple times, just watching.

So, for this week, I'm focused, stressed, and busier than ever. I have a deadline from God and plenty of hours to make it so, and next week will get here anyway. Sunday's coming, you know.

And I just realized I'm now out of flour and sugar. This will be bad.

But, again. Lots of gratitude today. Send flour.