Within arm's reach
When Eden was born, I felt like the only person on the planet. Though I wasn't the only one I knew with a newborn, I was the only one with MY newborn. The only one on MY hours. We were already low on friends in our demographic, and with the birth of a baby - and a sick one, at that -my abilities to connect with other humans were significantly decreased for awhile.
We stumbled out of infancy and into Mommy & Me age, where opportunities to connect with other adults abound. The babies are easy to transport, they stay in one place when you put them down, and they don't make noise unless they need something - allowing plenty of chances to finish a sentence, and sometimes even a story.
Along came Chloe and it started over - I crawled back into my hole and used the new-baby card to explain away my lack of intimacy with anyone nearby. Again, we worked through it, made some steps forward, and during this stage we finally built some relationships. Really good ones. With people we now consider to be family.
I thought it would get easier as the kids got older - I've heard myself say so many times "when they're a little bigger we'll be able to..." - but that's not proving to be the case. Not only is it not getting easier... it's getting harder. It's hard to be consistent in small group. It's hard to be reliable Sunday School leaders, or even to be church regulars. Sometimes, it's just hard to answer the phone - much less make a call.
And truthfully, I've been really discouraged. I don't like to fail. I don't like to disappoint. But on Sunday, while having a conversation with someone at church - someone who I've done a terrible job of keeping up with - I had this feeling of peace sweep over me. My peripheral vision caught one of those friends-slash-family standing nearby. Not waiting to talk to me, just standing there, maybe talking to someone else. Somewhere, way down deep, I had this "if everyone else in the world gives up on waiting for me to connect, THAT person will still be there" feeling.
So thank you, God, for those people. The ones who you gave me 30 years ago...15 years ago...10 years ago...3 years ago. The ones who you fit in during my lucid phases. The ones you gave me when I had time to play and brainpower to talk and energy to invest. Those are the ones I know are from you, and those are the ones who awaken Easter in my soul.
We stumbled out of infancy and into Mommy & Me age, where opportunities to connect with other adults abound. The babies are easy to transport, they stay in one place when you put them down, and they don't make noise unless they need something - allowing plenty of chances to finish a sentence, and sometimes even a story.
Along came Chloe and it started over - I crawled back into my hole and used the new-baby card to explain away my lack of intimacy with anyone nearby. Again, we worked through it, made some steps forward, and during this stage we finally built some relationships. Really good ones. With people we now consider to be family.
I thought it would get easier as the kids got older - I've heard myself say so many times "when they're a little bigger we'll be able to..." - but that's not proving to be the case. Not only is it not getting easier... it's getting harder. It's hard to be consistent in small group. It's hard to be reliable Sunday School leaders, or even to be church regulars. Sometimes, it's just hard to answer the phone - much less make a call.
And truthfully, I've been really discouraged. I don't like to fail. I don't like to disappoint. But on Sunday, while having a conversation with someone at church - someone who I've done a terrible job of keeping up with - I had this feeling of peace sweep over me. My peripheral vision caught one of those friends-slash-family standing nearby. Not waiting to talk to me, just standing there, maybe talking to someone else. Somewhere, way down deep, I had this "if everyone else in the world gives up on waiting for me to connect, THAT person will still be there" feeling.
So thank you, God, for those people. The ones who you gave me 30 years ago...15 years ago...10 years ago...3 years ago. The ones who you fit in during my lucid phases. The ones you gave me when I had time to play and brainpower to talk and energy to invest. Those are the ones I know are from you, and those are the ones who awaken Easter in my soul.
Comments
But for what it is worth, I (we) really love you and your husband (and kids) without strings attached. Can we bring some ice cream and come over?
Brad, I know our friendship isn't dependent on how much we can do for you. At least, I think it isn't... :)and yes, you can absolutely bring some ice cream and come on over, anytime. That goes for the rest of you as well!
Photo, You've written before about having some of these friends too - Hooray for a God who knows not only what we need, but what we're GOING to need!
Since my son is 19, and I'm past all that craziness you're feeling right now, let me say that you'll meet other good friends through the years and have plenty of time to be more involved in serving, etc. This time raising your girls will fly by. They are the ones that need you so much right now. I'm glad to hear that you and Matt are very close. It's okay to not be involved in other things right now. You will have so much time for that other stuff in the years to come. Don't be so hard on yourself. Your true friends will always be there. Please trust me on this.