There is a little stretch of sidewalk in downtown DC called Therapy Row.
The specific stretch of sidewalk I’m referencing is actually a square from the corner of 8th and H down to the corner of 7th and H, across H to Starbucks (pause here for a Grande Pumpkin Spice Latte) out the door and back down the other side of the street, then across H again and back to Calvary.
Actually, “Therapy Row” is not this block’s official, historic name.
Truthfully, this little plot of land has only acquired such name as the Calvary staff has worn a little path along the sidewalk from Calvary’s front door to the front door of the Starbucks on the corner of 7th and H NW.
It occurred to me today as I traipsed down Therapy Row with my fellow staff members that this little stretch of city is a geographical marker of God’s faithfulness, tangibly expressed in the hundreds (thousands?) of times I’ve made the trek, sharing concerns, laughter and comiseration with a whole host of wonderful people.
Topics of discussion today: a strange dream of being attacked by the church secretary (we don’t have one, so the secretary in question was not a real person . . . I personally believe this dream may well be evidence of post traumatic stress disorder); a $1300 car repair bill (the outrage!); the ongoing controversy of whether we should have pita bread AND tortillas for communion this week on World Communion Sunday (flatbreads: are they all created equal?); and a reprise of the critical question: what kind of message do the curtains in the pastor’s office send to the first-time visitor?
All of these critical issues (plus very likely a few more that have slipped my mind) were thoroughly explored down one side of H Street and back up the other, providing what is an almost daily ritual: the 10-minute therapy session . . . just enough therapy to keep us sane one more day!