At the risk of my three readers thinking that I have fallen into a depression (I haven’t), I am going to add to this week's somber tone by doing a gratuitous, sappy and emotional post about friendship and moving away. Please cue the violin player now. Something by Rachmaninoff.
I know a family that, quite literally, lives down the street. I am desperately in love with these people and they are moving away next week. Not just away, far away. They are moving to a place where cacti actually grow outside!
Hear me out. It’s not as if I see them everyday. I don’t even talk to them everyday. They are busy and we are busy. But, up until next week, I always knew they were there.
Yesterday morning, I got up very early and headed for the bathroom – the same place everyone goes when they first get up, unless they have older pets. I sat down to pee in my sleepy, out of sorts state, and remembered that my friends were moving away. I cried and cried and used far more than the one square of toilet paper my mother always told me to.
I won’t bore you by dictating the countless conversations (even screaming matches) we’ve had. I will not list all the things we’ve borrowed from one another and forgot to give back. I cannot even begin to translate all the things we’ve learned from each other. Suffice it to say, they are in my system and under my skin.
When God cements people together it is no joke. Real, live, breathing community – the place where you are loved and challenged and healed – is like a deep and endless gift. Sometimes it feels great and at other times it hurts like hell, but I have been blessed to have it with these great people.
Ed, Vickie, Kristopher and Kelsey: You will be missed. And even though you are far away, every time I pee, I will think of you.
I know a family that, quite literally, lives down the street. I am desperately in love with these people and they are moving away next week. Not just away, far away. They are moving to a place where cacti actually grow outside!
Hear me out. It’s not as if I see them everyday. I don’t even talk to them everyday. They are busy and we are busy. But, up until next week, I always knew they were there.
Yesterday morning, I got up very early and headed for the bathroom – the same place everyone goes when they first get up, unless they have older pets. I sat down to pee in my sleepy, out of sorts state, and remembered that my friends were moving away. I cried and cried and used far more than the one square of toilet paper my mother always told me to.
I won’t bore you by dictating the countless conversations (even screaming matches) we’ve had. I will not list all the things we’ve borrowed from one another and forgot to give back. I cannot even begin to translate all the things we’ve learned from each other. Suffice it to say, they are in my system and under my skin.
When God cements people together it is no joke. Real, live, breathing community – the place where you are loved and challenged and healed – is like a deep and endless gift. Sometimes it feels great and at other times it hurts like hell, but I have been blessed to have it with these great people.
Ed, Vickie, Kristopher and Kelsey: You will be missed. And even though you are far away, every time I pee, I will think of you.
3 comments:
I too will miss them, but probably not when I pee.
Wen, I get the "feeling" but that was a little bizarre even for you :) When you pee, really?
Still love you, maybe I need to read the book again.
You cry when you pee and I pray when I shower... we all have lil nuances haha
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