Why are we waiting?

Just been thinking about the past year.  Last week a little friend was in a car accident, earlier this month one of my closest roommates from college lost her husband suddenly, her sister’s husband died just the month before, a young friend’s husband had a stroke, as did my mom’s husband, I discovered a dear friend feels lonely and lost, fires came close to several friends’ homes, a grandma friend broke her wrist and had to stay in supervised care facility for an extended period of time, and our grandpa friend had a very serious accident with a chain saw.  On and on.

I was ecstatic to hear from my roommates, with whom I exchange Christmas cards and pictures with every year, but I was so sad to realize the terms that brought about this recent connection.  It was heavenly to talk to one on the phone, she sounded just like she did when we lived in the dorms and then our apartment; it was as if no time had passed at all, and I wondered why I hadn’t just picked up the phone and called her a hundred times over the past 25 years.  And why are the five us just now finding each other and talking.  Does it really take a death to remind us of our friendship?

I thought of our friends, the parents of our friend in the accident.  My heart immediately wanted to connect with them, all we could think about was wanting to go to them personally.  I texted with the wife, Todd called the husband and they talked.  But I wondered why it took a car wreck to propel us to call them.  Why haven’t we had them over for dinner in the past six months? Why haven’t we just called to check in and catch up?  Where have we been?

I hadn’t talked to my friend from school (whom I know through PTO and the library) for a couple of years! Why did it take a fire for me to reach out to her?  And our neighbors—Todd and I talk about having them over all the time, why haven’t we?  We’ve gone the whole summer without a single bbq with them.  The last time we hung out was during the Opening Ceremonies of the Olympics.

Why hadn’t I taken time to visit my grandma friend more often? Why did it take her moving away from her home and into a facility to wake me up? And my father figure (grandpa to my kids) friend, why only after a serious accident did I think to bring him muffins and make a visit?  Why did I wait so long to see these people I love so much?

I think of a friend who was in a dire emotional state a year ago.  Why is it that I didn’t make the effort to connect with her before she summoned us for support?  Why did I wait? Was I playing some sort of twisted game in my head about whose turn it was to reach out? Or did I talk myself into thinking our friendship had changed and had essentially ended just because I hadn’t heard from her in awhile?  I had no idea she was in crisis.  But I should’ve.

I wonder if we give up on our friendships because of distance.  Maybe miles, states, and years stand between us.  Maybe we’re in the same town and distance of time creeps in and creates some sort of wedge, starting out with just a few weeks going by before we realize it’s been nearly 9 months since we’ve talked or had them over; now it’s awkward. Maybe even within our families our hurts or misunderstandings create emotional distance, and the longer we spend not talking about what we’re feeling, the deeper our wounds seem to get and the further apart we feel.  Maybe we sense we’ve just all grown apart.  Maybe we just do what’s easy.

I just spent a week in Utah, where two of my favorite aunts live.  Why didn’t I take time to go visit either of them? I have my excuses, I got in late Sunday night and classes started up on Monday, we left the house every day at 7:30 and didn’t get home till about 6 or so every night.  We left early Saturday morning as soon as we were done to come home.  Not a lot of down time.  But would I have made time if there was a funeral? Or if one had been in the hospital or had a major health issue? Of course. I made a point of going to visit my roommate.  But it took a tragedy; I don’t go to see her every time I’m there.  And yet I love her.  I love my aunts.  What’s wrong with me?

I think I’m normal.  We just always think there’ll be a next time, another time, more time.

But what if we switched things up and didn’t assume?  What if we just told ourselves it’s time? What if we made the effort?  What if we just got on the phone today and asked a girlfriend to go on a walk tomorrow? What if we invited our friends for dinner Friday and worried about what to make later?  What if we actually asked that family to go on a hike with us? What if Todd followed through and invited some of the guys to go fishing; they’re always talking about it, why don’t they just make plans for next week? What if we wrote a card or letter to a relative we were once close to but have lost contact with over the years?  What if we went to visit our 80 year old friend and didn’t wait for her to fall again? What if we did it today?

The power of connecting, even when it’s as simple as a text or a note, is magical.  But in person can be potentially life-changing. And yet we’re missing opportunities.  We make up stories, they’ve moved on, we’re not as close as we used to be, they’re too busy, we’re not on the same page anymore, we’re too busy, they have other friends, we don’t have as much in common any more.  I use these excuses all the time.

And yet, I know how good it feels to make the first move, to get out of my comfort zone and just send the text, to invite a friend for a smoothie or to lunch, to ask a family over again even when it’s been forever.  And I know how great it feels when someone does the same for us, sending a message on FB or texting to go for a walk or to come for dinner, I love it!  I’m so grateful for the time I’ve spent with friends and family building and maintaining relationships; they mean everything to me.  Yet even with that as a backdrop, I fail to make the effort so much more often. I’m like most of us, waiting for that elusive better time, more time, a good time, the next time.

I just wonder if we could make something happen today.  Instead of waiting for sad news, why not connect when life is just normal? It shouldn’t take a crisis to remind us of how much we love (or loved) each other, but often it does.  I venture to say we won’t ever regret stretching, taking a chance, reaching out to connect with people we care about.  Regardless of the distance, whose turn it is, or how long it’s been, there’s no better time.  There’ll never be more time.  But there might not be a next time.  Maybe now's the time.  

Painting

We were sitting on the back deck finishing up dinner just last night and my daughter noticed the paint still on my hands from the previous night and offered her advice, You can use a nail brush and scrub that off. I told her I already had, You should’ve seen them before.

That about sums up our life in a fixer upper.  I’m sure people who come to our house cringe. And wonder what we were thinking to move from a new-construction house to one from 1984 needing an overhaul.  What a mess.  Why don’t they get rid of some of this junk? Why don’t they fix their floor, their door, their porch, their screens, their driveway, their road, their stairs, their bathrooms? Why does it stink? When are they going to do something about the big metal shop?

But I’d love to point out how far we’ve come in the year and a half we’ve lived here.  I wish I could hang before and after pictures near every improvement we’ve made: Look at these closet doors. I know you can’t tell, but Todd replaced them with new white ones.  We painted: this room used to be bright blue, the living room used to be peachy brown.  And so were the bedrooms. I want to remind everyone who wonders that we have taken lots of trailer loads of junk to the dump, we are working on the floors, and we are trying to get new windows and doors.  I want to explain that we’re in the middle of landscaping, which is why there are piles of dirt and wood chips on our driveway.  We’re also trying to paint our house, which is why the radio and ladders and roller are all still out; we’ll just be using them again tonight. Todd needs to insulate the shop before he can set up his work bench and hang cabinets, which is why we have random cabinets sitting in the middle of the shop floor and general untidiness.  We’re waiting to get wood this summer, which is why our floors look a little odd right now.  We love our dogs and have had a few that have come to visit, which is why our year-old carpet already has stains and the rugs are chewed up.  We do have plans for the bathrooms, but we make do for now.  We realize the toilet’s crooked when you sit and that you have to reach behind you for  toilet paper; we’ll get there.  And yes, we know how outdated our laundry room is, don’t mind the mismatched cabinets; believe us, it looks better already.  We have so many good ideas, but we can’t implement them all at once.  We have limited resources and simply can’t hire it all out.  We have to pace ourselves because Todd still has a full-time job and I’m helping the kids get around.  Plus, things tend to unravel and set us back. There always seems to be a lawn mower that needs some kind of attention.  The sprinklers have caused unnecessary headaches.  Our garden is pathetic despite our best efforts with extra watering and fertilizer.  The weeds need spraying, the pastures need irrigating, and the cows had to be moved across town.  It’s not like we’re just taking time off from life to work on a house full-time.

But look! Todd’s put up fencing, made garden boxes, got the wood for the foundation of the greenhouse, laid down flooring in the sun room and made new stairs. His dad helped make a wood shed, and look at how full it is! We’ve painted three sides of the house, our raspberries (at least) are flourishing, and we finally found some furniture to fill up our living room.  Can’t you see how far we’ve come?

It’s sweet to hear compliments on our kitchen.  I forget sometimes that some of our friends haven’t seen it yet, and I’m always surprised at their comments.  But I love to show them our house book with pictures of what it started out like. It’s nothing spectacular, just a regular kitchen that fits our style.  But without that comparison, without remembering what it used to look like, it’s easy to just take it for granted, to forget to note how much improved it is.

I think we tend to forget this principle in our own lives and in others.  We so often call ourselves out for not being where we think we should be at this stage of our lives, for not being more at this age.  But it’s imperative we look back and recall all that’s transpired.  There was a time when I had no idea how to work a grill or a lawn mower or a trimmer or a gas oven.  I was an adult before I learned any of that—and it was only last month I learned about a trimmer!  I was married before I’d made anything with yeast or created any sort of pie.  I never painted a room in my life until we moved here 18 years ago and bought our first house.  I still feel ignorant about most of history, but as I look back on the lists of books I’ve read, I realize I’ve gleaned a fair amount from my varied selections over the years.  I didn’t have much Bible background as a kid, and even though I still get lost in all the begat verses, I’m more familiar with scripture characters than I used to be.

I think we’re all that way.  I love seeing how comfortable Todd is as a vet now compared to when I dropped him off for his first day of work over 18 years ago.  I can’t get over how much more intuitive parenting is now than when I was 24.  I can see already how much better Callum’s driving has become even in the two weeks that we’ve been practicing.  Think of all the skills and habits that have become almost effortless over the years, writing in cursive, making cookies, saying thank you, speaking in public. 

But why do we fail to acknowledge how far we’ve come over the years? And why are we still occasionally forgetful and hard on ourselves?  And even others?

Instead of celebrating our milestones, we’re more likely to nag, Why I can’t lose that last little bit of tummy weight, why do I still mess up dinner, why is sewing still so laborious, why didn’t I know about that part of history?  But I need to remember I’ve had five babies and at least I eat more salads than I used to.  When I first got married I had no idea how to cook.  I’m still not that great at sewing, but I’ve made a few pretty quilts that we all use for naps. And I read.  I’m trying to learn about all the things I’ve missed along the way.  I’m working on it. And so many things. As I know we all are.

As I was sitting in the temple the other day, I was so vexed with my hands. I tried to hide my fingers, folding them under each other and away from view.  I wanted to explain to the ladies around me how hard I’d tried to get them clean. I know you can’t tell, and it looks like I didn’t even try.  But you should’ve seen them before; they look so much better now.

Maybe we need t-shirts, maybe bumper stickers? Something to remind us to note how far we’ve all come. Not so we can judge more accurately, but so we can love more unconditionally.

Because while our house is still pretty much a mess and I still feel a little awkward in some social settings; while I still struggle with being a mom (especially as we continually forge new territory) and I still get lost when we’re talking about geography, I try to remind myself that I’m making headway.  I’m not as shy as I used to be.  I’m not as stressed with my kids as I used to be.  And there’s not as much paint on my hands as there used to be.  I’m getting there.