We Need People

 I stood at the top of the driveway, golf clubs beside me, anxiously watching for you to turn your car onto my street. As I saw your car, I picked up my golf bag and walked over to put my clubs in the trunk. Looking forward to every minute of time with you the next few hours would bring.

Yes, I was looking forward to playing golf. The game you loved and patiently helped me learn to play.

But, it was so much more than that alone that made me look forward to this time. So much more that made a seventeen year old just a few days away from starting grade 12 look forward to a few hours with my grandparents.

For the last five years, I'd chosen to spend the hours with you. There was nothing unusual about the activities of this day for you and me. We'd probably done the same thing at least a hundred times before.

But, on this day, I was especially looking forward to this time. I was feeling the pressure of going into grade 12 and the decisions I'd have to start making right away. Decisions about college or university - would I stay local or go away, what I would study. I was already feeling overwhelmed by it all.

I knew that in the hours to come, I would have a safe place to spill that all out. That you would listen first - until I was done talking. And then you'd ask your questions and give me space to think and answer. Only after all that, would you join the chorus of voices telling me what I should or shouldn't do. Only after being sure you understood as much as you could, would you chime in with your perspective and advice.

As you dropped me off at home a few hours later, I felt a little less overwhelmed. I had a bit more clarity on things. It wasn't all figured out, but I felt heard. And I knew I had you support, love, prayers.

This came back to my mind the last few days, as I found myself feeling the same feelings. The overwhelm and not knowing what to do. I missed the way it was so easy growing up to share this with my grandparents.

And it made me realize the value I have in the friendships where I can talk about how I'm really doing. I know I have a handful of friends I could call in those moments and they would listen, care, love, support, pray.

This time I didn't call any of them, although looking back I wish I had. But, I was reminded of how we need these relationships in our lives.

And I was challenged in the independence our society tells us is a good thing. That very thing that kept me from making the call to a friend this time. We're told we shouldn't need anyone - that we should be able to figure out ourselves.

We're told we shouldn't need anyone, and, even though I know better, I bought the lie this time.

But, Scripture makes it pretty clear that we need each other. We weren't made to go through life alone. Over and over, we see encouragements to keep meeting together, to care for each other, to show up for each other.

Who are your people that you can call on when you can't do it on your own?

When was the last time you called one of them? Why?

Why do you hesitate to call them?

How can you challenge the tendency to try to go it alone and get better at reaching out to those around you when you need help?

"Love Me Till I'm Me Again"

 "Love me till I'm me again"

Those words are on the wall of of a coffee shop I like to spend time in reading and writing. I see them regularly and I've pondered them from time to time.

In the last few weeks I've thought about them a lot more. I realize how much we need people who do that.

"Love me till I'm me again"

The life will bring things our way that knock us off our feet. Everything feels unstable, unsure. We're facing an unknown. In many ways we've all been living that the last few years.

When this happens, we might not feel like our usual self.

And we need people who stick with us through it. Who keep loving us. Who keep showing up for us. We need people who will love us until we're ourselves again. People who will be patient with us. People who don't walk away because we're struggling.

Going to Things as a Single After What the Last Few Years Have Brought

 In the last few months, as gatherings of many kinds have begun happening again, I've noticed something has changed. And I'm not sure it's for the better as a single person.

Over the last couple years we've been limited in who we can see and that seems to have carried over in some ways as we've begun to gather again. Often, we just stick to the same little group.

While I understand. There's a level of comfort there. And we're not over all of this pandemic yet. 

(Please no arguments or comments about the pandemic on this. This is not the place for that, and it misses the point of what I'm saying.)

But, it makes if even more difficult than it used to be to walk into a gathering of any kind as a single person. Instead of being welcomed into a group with others, I often find I may as well be invisible in the room. The groups that have been who we spent the last two years with have become closed and unintentionally unwelcoming to others.

Except the language we use hasn't changed. We describe ourselves as welcoming to everyone. We say we create a welcoming space. But, the reality can feel a lot different.

We're welcoming if you came with your own group that you can sit with. We're welcoming if you already fit somewhere.

So, where does this leave the single person?

The single person, whose world was even smaller than others' the last two years. The single person who is the one in desperate need of connection.

When I look around at a Sunday morning at church, I see one of two things have happened. The singles I know have just quit coming - if they returned at all. Or, we're sitting with our parents and not connecting with others.

I'm not saying there's anything wrong with being with our parents, but, I wasn't really thinking that in my late thirties that would be the only option I had to not sit alone at everything. Until the last year, I'd sat with friends and acquaintances at church since high school - never imaging I'd now sit with my Mom every week so that I didn't have to sit alone.

The struggle has come on the weeks my Mom isn't there. Most of my attempts to sit with others those times have been rebuffed - sometimes subtly and sometimes in a very outright way. Mostly, probably not intentionally, but it's what has happened.

I ran into the clearest example of this just last night at church. Our monthly worship and prayer gathering. I went by myself, like usual. While I was greeted as I walked in and a few people had brief conversations with me, the part where I felt invisible came after that. I took a seat on my own. When we moved into praying in small groups, everyone else turned to pray with those they were sitting with and I continued to sit by myself. In that moment, I felt like I could have just gotten up to leave and no one would have noticed or cared if I did. 

It was hard. And it drove home the importance of not just offering a friendly greeting to people, but actually inviting them in. To sit with us, if they're alone. 

I know how easy it is to fall into a habit of just always sitting with the same group. I know it's not always an intentional choice to leave others out. But, we've gotten really good at it, and it's not a good thing.

So, that leaves me with a question. One that all of us need to think about - whether we're single or not.

How can we do a better job of making sure we include everyone?