I wonder about this entire month and feel my voice slipping a bit. I catch my pointer finger crossing perpendicular to my lips while I speak, making people say, "What? I can't hear you."
This morning I spent 2 hours with 2 year olds in the chaos of the church nursery trying to communicate through their bodies. They don't have words beyond screaming and laughing and pushing one another out of the way. The noise of their needs was deafening.
To contrast that, I now sit in communal tables at the strip mall ghetto liberary in our town, where you can be homeless or a billionaire and sit together sharing the front page of the Detriot Free Press. It is all ruffling pages and clicks and the banging of metal carts. Strangers politely asking for what they need with no strings. It is cool and there are windows to a back parking lot. Kids talk normally as they check out. I sit next to thick books of Presidents and famous bigwigs like Steve Jobs who I can nod to from afar, while being about the business of living my own story and sharing that with you.
I made a list of the people who are real in my life. It is a long list. Friends who seek me out and continue to leave messages when I don't pick up. I have two reactions to their love, the better one being that I matter to them. My son saw a friend at the playground on Wednesday and yelled out to him, "Noah, It's me, your best friend." I love his confidence. If you called to me, I would like to yell back something like, thank you for wanting to know me. I am here to listen to you too!
The trouble comes with my next thoughts which are, what do I need to do to make you want to be my friend, or what do I have to give you, to make you happy. Even as a I wrote the list of friends, I felt I should be doing things for them like making meals, watching their kids, calling to inquire about all the important things going on with them. Then, when they talk about their loved one's battle with cancer and their child being solicited by strangers in McDonald's, or the tree that was pruned in the front of their house, that I will want to solve the impossible, by making these things disapear. Assuring them that no one dies and that you can let your child out of your sight and still be a good mom and that I can replace the tree or take the kids for the week.
Exhausting, right? I can barely keep my eyes open while I try to write about one of the most exciting races of my life, when my friend lived through the first hours of her breakup with her boyfriend and we ran faster then ever, without even trying. I rest my head on my arm and close my eyes. I can't remember the temperature outside or what day it is and as I sleep, I dream that I am trying to pick up my kids toys from a parking structure of an apartment complex, that has mean people living inside. No matter how many bags I fill and how close I am to getting everything, I see another bit of legos and trucks just ahead to work into another plastic grocery bag that floats towards me. My friend Kristen offers to help me carry them and I say, "I can't manage. Don't worry about me." Maybe I should claim a week without toys. A week without watching other's kids? A week without commitments to supporting others happiness, so I can just wonder about all of my beautiful friends who are working magic in being who they are right now.
(I wish you could tell me how you live in contentment, service and FREEDOM alongside the chaos that pulls at their legs - Please comment!!!!)
