I don’t think it really sunk in when people would ask how things were going the week we were in the middle of getting new carpet. It never seemed to conjure up any sort of response. “Nice,” “Fun,” “That’ll look good,” they’d nod, and we’d move on. All I could surmise is that they’d never gotten new carpet. Because otherwise there would’ve been more to talk about. It all sounded so businesslike, but I don’t think they had any idea what it entailed.
For the weeks leading up to the day the carpet layers were due to arrive, we’d been putting up trim, ripping out flooring, caulking, spackling, sanding, and painting. We’d moved three beds to the living room to sleep in and every other item touching the floors (including the closets) out to the bathroom, bathtub, family room and living room. We’d taped newspapers on our mirrored doors to spray the brass edges black. We’d gotten up early and stayed up late for days trying to get everything done before the carpet layers came. Obviously we fit in regular life, but it was a pretty heavy week. But when people would ask what we’d been up to, instead of giving a complete run-down, we just mentioned we were getting new carpet.
As most of you know, we’ve been in the middle of a kitchen remodel most recently. I’ve posted pictures of what our different flooring and wallpaper layers looked like, what it took to take out the particle board layer with a crow bar and to pull out each staple (about every inch or so throughout the whole floor) by hand. We moved out of the kitchen and into the laundry room, where we’ve set up our work station. We haven’t had normal water for nearly five weeks, so we rotate through three little gallon jugs that Todd refills at work every day. We take turns washing dishes in the utility sink. We ate in the living room for weeks. We’ve cooked meat on our skillet and have given our crock pot a run for its money. I’m longing to make bread and cookies for my family, and I’ve felt bad that things have been in such disarray as they’ve tried to be positive and find things to make lunches and snacks. We didn’t invite as many people over in the beginning because it was just such a mess, but then we didn’t care and did it anyway.
It’s just made me think of other times in life when a few words sum up a major life upheaval/transition/event. “She’s doing chemo and radiation.” “They’re moving.” “I have breast cancer.” “I’m painting.” “He’s got autism.” “He’s being bullied.” “She had her baby.” “She's gone back to school.” “They had a fire.”
I think the next time I hear about someone tearing up their kitchen, I want to be there. It was so fun to have friends to talk to while we worked. How they lightened our load!!! I was also grateful for the friend who brought us dinner one night during these weeks without a kitchen; it was heavenly!!!! We’ve had other families invite us over for dinner to give us a little break. It's been so dreamy to not have to think about what to make in our little crockpot and to get out of our mess and just feel normal for a few nights. I love that two of our friends brought us cookies and another banana bread, the one thing I’d been missing maybe the most in all this. I just want to provide something “homey” for my family, and I haven’t been able to. But these sweet friends heeded the call and—more than treats—they just reminded me that someone was thinking of us, that we weren’t alone just muddling through our messy days. I want to be that kind of friend the next time I hear of someone going through this, in fact, I can’t wait. Because I’ll know just what they’ll need!
I haven’t had a baby in over 12 years, but a couple of my friends just did this past month. They make it seem like it’s no big deal, but I remember that it was. Especially my c-section. I never knew I could hurt so bad. Or be so tired and overwhelmed. I was emotionally and physically exhausted with each of our babies. I loved it but I resented it all too. I loved when my mom and friends helped out. They cleaned and cooked and took care of my babies. They assured me I was a great mom. I loved that people would take time to come visit me, that they’d take my other kids to play. I think I’ve been bad at helping my friends who have had babies recently. I’m not sure they want visitors, maybe they need to rest? I’m not sure they need anything at all, they seem so much more competent than I ever felt. But if it’s anything like I remember, I should’ve been a little more present.
I have a friend who’s moving right now. I immediately called to see what we could do, when we could help pack and clean. Because I know first-hand—it’s still super fresh in my mind—what it means to move. It’s possibly the biggest pain in the world. Especially when it’s a big family with years of collections. And food storage. And camping equipment. I know what it feels like to have to make decision after decision—about the smallest things, memorabilia, old dishes, school papers, quilts you got as gifts that you never even liked. It’s overwhelming to know where to start, what to pack and what to wait on. I remember having to touch up the entire house in the same month I was packing. I painted all the baseboards in the house. Insides of closets, the pantry shelves, the closet shelves. I dusted everything, light fixtures, blinds, doors. I remember what I loved the most. A friend brought two huge platters of Subway sandwiches the day after we moved in. It was to help feed all the friends who were there cleaning and helping us unpack. It was glorious. It was so frustrating to not have my wits about me when it came to food those couple of days. I’m usually comfortable creating food out of nowhere. But I was completely overwhelmed, trying to clean both houses, trying to keep life as normal as possible, extra signings on top of regular closings, new insurance policies, the snow and the cold and the treacherous roads, two Christmas concerts the day of our move, on top of feeling extremely guilty that friends were taking off work to help us, wanting to make it nice for my family since it was two weeks before Christmas, and finding sheets and making beds for all the upcoming company. The previous owners were moving out in the snow as we were moving in. We still needed to clean some of both houses. I was beyond exhausted, and I simply couldn’t bring myself to think about food, as strange and pathetic as that sounds. That’s usually the one thing I can do. But for some reason, it wasn’t happening. So she was a lifesaver, and I will always remember that gesture as well as all the helping hands who brought cookies and cleaning supplies, trucks and moving equipment, water bottles, paper plates, and their families. I want be that angel to some other friend down the road. I’m so grateful for this recent upheaval because now it’s fresh and I’m more tuned in to the simple phrase, “We’re moving.”
It’s funny though. The further removed from a trial we get, the less intense it feels, the easier it is to keep moving forward, assuaging any guilt about not helping others with a similar situation. We figure they’ve got it handled, they’re fine. It all becomes less vivid in our minds, the details get lost, the pain softens, the whole event sort of wraps itself up into a ball we tuck away on a high shelf with our Christmas platters.
But what if we brought those memories out and kept them with our everyday ware? What if we tried to really remember what those days felt like and sought out those around us who are currently wading through something similar themselves?
I have friends and family that I talk to in person and across the miles who are struggling with way more than a move or a remodel. Heartbreaking realities. I don’t know exactly how to help. I’ve never had a child with allergies or autism, I’ve never lived through a fire or a major insurance issue. I don’t know what it feels like to have poison pumped into me or to have to go for radiation or dialysis every day. Or to be bald or lose a husband. I don’t know what it’s like to not be able to walk and yet still need to provide for my family. It all sounds so neat and tidy when we talk about it, “She had twins.” “We’ve been dealing with litigation for about a year now.” “They’re separated.” But I think this past year has humbled me. Again. I’ll admit I haven’t been the first or best responder, I haven’t even been a responder most of the time. But with each new experience that we encounter and wade through, I think I’ll know better what it means when a friend shares some news with me. Even though I may not have gone through the exact thing, I’m hopefully becoming better equipped at processing what she needs and knowing how to act—simply because I’m trying to put myself in her shoes and really hear what she’s saying. I believe listening is the most important and valuable part of a conversation, and our job as friends is to to listen to what words simply can’t convey.
When someone mentions in a phone call that they’ve all been sick, we can do more than glibly mumble, “Oh, I hope everyone gets better soon.” We can reach into our well of experience and remember what it’s like to change all those sheets and how frustrating it is to clean up throw up in the middle of the night. Maybe we could make (or buy) some soup or offer to pick up the kids or clean a couple of bathrooms. When someone mentions her baby has colic and they haven’t been sleeping very well, we can recall (or imagine) what that might feel like and offer take care of the baby while she rests for a couple of hours. When a friend mentions her washing machine’s been broken for the past week, we can put on our shoes and head over. All it takes is a simple prayer each morning asking God to open our eyes to what the people around us are going through and then paying attention to what He shows us as we listen with love to the understatement.
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