michelle reminded me of last reading break when we went to starbucks and knitted (knot?)... finally, when hunger got the best of us, we headed out. there was snow on her car and we cleaned it off together. at chianti's, we kept knitting. i think we spent eight hours together that day. she asked me if i reflected on days like that with sadness, given the surrounding circumstances.
remember when everything was hard and you were there? the context doesn't taint the memories, it makes them more precious. when i think about all the craziness, all the hurt, all the struggle... and i remember that you were there, it makes everything go hazy and beautiful.
kristin, amanda, michelle... showing integrity and clinging to one another when giving up might have been easier.
ross and kevin... struggling to hope together, learning to be honest with each other.
jen and biscuit... coming home to something safe and nurturing, knowing i have an advocate and a cuddlebuddy (respectively).
i'm struck by the goodness in my life. the strength and compassion you showed. you babysat me, you trusted me, you shared your life with me. i value that so very much.
wendy's, blizzards, and hot beverages make me miss you in a way i can best describe in romanian: ustura. or, to put it the way lars did, "like a burn. like when you go outside and your feet freeze and you come back in and then they thaw out? it's like that. it's almost exactly like that."
it's the kind of pain i embrace, though, because it reminds me how very, very rich i was last year. it's not even bittersweet anymore... just sweet.
thank you.
Friday, November 23, 2007
Thursday, November 01, 2007
wonder eight
me: did ya miss me?
mike: well, i have some good news: i did. you're the best friend i ever had.
mike can't remember my name. he likes action movies and comedies (especially slapstick) more than watching "house" or anything else with a lot of dialogue. he pretends he doesn't like having his cheeks pinched. he's so very territorial about his (hundreds of) movies. i owe him and kevin dinner because of an unbelievable basket he made when we tore up the court on monday night. and sometimes he says amazingly wise things.
me: you gotta be sensitive, right?
mike: yeah, you gotta see what's there.
best foundation for true, insightful, committed friendship ever. that's not to say that mike always lives this - he can be quite oblivious to how people feel, though he is always well-intentioned. still, something rang true. somehow he unpacked the connotation sensitivity evokes - being politically correct, walking on eggshells, approaching things gingerly, and so on - and got at the root: sensing, seeing what's there.
during our prayer time, we share a reading and core members offer their thoughts. almost every night, mike says, "i think it's good to help people... and to be happy with Jesus."
how can every devotional reading yield the same response? because it's the right response. maybe mike looks past all the other stuff that fills our so-called spiritual lives, and sees only the heart of what it means to really live well: to help others, and to be happy with Jesus.
maybe wisdom doesn't have to come as a reward for years of solitude and contemplation and soul-searching. maybe it's a lot more simple than that: just love God and love your neighbour as yourself. we could spend the rest of our lives seeking the definitions for all those terms - God, love, neighbour, self. we could pretend that it's possible to objectively analyze this ridiculous, mysterious, beautiful, terrifying thing we call life... or we can begin to live it, even as we squint to see what's there.
mike: well, i have some good news: i did. you're the best friend i ever had.
mike can't remember my name. he likes action movies and comedies (especially slapstick) more than watching "house" or anything else with a lot of dialogue. he pretends he doesn't like having his cheeks pinched. he's so very territorial about his (hundreds of) movies. i owe him and kevin dinner because of an unbelievable basket he made when we tore up the court on monday night. and sometimes he says amazingly wise things.
me: you gotta be sensitive, right?
mike: yeah, you gotta see what's there.
best foundation for true, insightful, committed friendship ever. that's not to say that mike always lives this - he can be quite oblivious to how people feel, though he is always well-intentioned. still, something rang true. somehow he unpacked the connotation sensitivity evokes - being politically correct, walking on eggshells, approaching things gingerly, and so on - and got at the root: sensing, seeing what's there.
during our prayer time, we share a reading and core members offer their thoughts. almost every night, mike says, "i think it's good to help people... and to be happy with Jesus."
how can every devotional reading yield the same response? because it's the right response. maybe mike looks past all the other stuff that fills our so-called spiritual lives, and sees only the heart of what it means to really live well: to help others, and to be happy with Jesus.
maybe wisdom doesn't have to come as a reward for years of solitude and contemplation and soul-searching. maybe it's a lot more simple than that: just love God and love your neighbour as yourself. we could spend the rest of our lives seeking the definitions for all those terms - God, love, neighbour, self. we could pretend that it's possible to objectively analyze this ridiculous, mysterious, beautiful, terrifying thing we call life... or we can begin to live it, even as we squint to see what's there.
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