Tag Archives: Relationships

Learning to Need Other People

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For the last four years I have lived in Massachusetts—a thousand miles from my family, friends, and the place where I grew up—1,367 miles to be exact. I love it and I hate it here and it seems the divide in my heart spans wider and wider each year.

New England is beautiful and filled with culture and history. There is always something new to see and do. I love being close to the ocean and the mountains and all the beautiful old cities. I love living close to Darren’s brother and his family. I love the friends I have made here. But I miss my family and my home. I miss the Midwest prairies and lazy afternoons spent with family doing nothing but just being together.

Truth be told, and it isn’t easy for me to say, I am very lonely here. I’m lonely without my family and friends and that place called home—nothing fills that void in my heart because nothing and no one else can.

This week I thought a lot about being lonely. Probably because it was Thanksgiving and we were up with all of Darren’s family for the holiday and I was missing being with my family.

I thought about why I am so lonely here even after four years. I thought about why I haven’t built more friendships and community. Why am I so alone in this place even after all this time?

In thinking through all these things, I realized something about myself. I realized I don’t ever want to need other people. I already knew I’m hard to get to know—I’ve been told that many times. But I never realized the reason I’m so hard to get to know is because I don’t want to need other people or let them in. I don’t want to be vulnerable. I don’t want to look like I’m not all put together. I don’t want to look like I need help with anything or need to learn anything. I want to be in control and be fine all by myself.

Only I’m not.

I’m lonely. And I’m tired. And I’m tired of being alone and trying to look like I don’t need any help.

I need friendship, I need community, I need other people to help me find my way and grow.

I think about when Darren and I start a family and the thought of raising children in this place by myself scares me. I won’t have my mom. I won’t have my grandma or my sister-in-laws (except for the one wonderful sister-in-law I do have here on Darren’s side). I don’t know anything about babies or children. I don’t know when they’re supposed to eat or sleep or how to tell when they’re sick. And I don’t want to figure any of these things out by myself. I want—and need–friendship and community. I need moms and mentors who can help me learn the things I don’t know.

I need other people.

Like it or not, I’m not all put together and I can’t do everything on my own. And if I keep chasing people away by pretending that I’m fine by myself, then I will never be able to build the friendships and community I need.

So I’m learning.

I’m learning to let people in. Learning to admit that I am tired, and lonely, and I need other people.

I have this quiet prayer in my heart right now—that God would give me moms and mentors and that I would have the humility to accept their love and help when they come.

Because I need help, and I need people, and I’m tired of pretending I can do all of this on my own.

Those Who Inspire

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I know a guy who followed a girl to Africa.

That girl is his wife.

She inspires him, it’s obvious—you can see it in the way he talks about her, the way he looks at her, and in the way he pursues so much more with his life because of her. If you talk to him for very long you can tell she makes him want to be a better man, she makes him want to do more with his life. I knew him in college. He was funny and well-liked but a bit of a drifter— now he’s dead focused on a mission and he’s pouring his life into helping other people.

I watch this couple and I wonder if I inspire others the way she inspires him. Do I inspire my own husband to be his best self? Or do I frustrate and discourage him in a world already filled with obstacles?

It’s so easy to be a downer, to always see the obstacles and the impossibility of a situation. Honestly, I think a lot of times I’m quick to tell my husband to quit. I tell him it’s too hard or not worth the time and money. I tell him not to try, not to take the risk.

What if my friend’s wife had told her husband the same things? What if she told him Africa was too far, too dangerous, or not worth the time and money? He would be a different person on a different road in life—and the people he touches in Africa would be on a different road too.

It’s funny because watching her inspire him inspires me too. She makes me want to be a better wife and person. She makes me want to look beyond the challenges and see the possibilities.

I hope going forward I can help my husband and those around me face the world with hope and courage. I hope I can speak to the beauty and wonder all around us each day. I hope I can learn to overcome my own negativity and grow into a woman of faith and courage.

Inspiration can be beautifully contagious—spread some.

Words

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Dear One,

You say you want to know me; I’m afraid you never will. I’ve seen the way you are. I’ve heard the words you speak. I’ve watched your actions closely and know better than to let you in.

You are friends with everyone in the room…until everyone leaves.

You flatter to the face only to tear down behind the back.

How can I trust you after what I’ve seen? How can I open up and share my heart when your words would break the hearts of those who love and trust you?

How can I trust you’re not talking badly about me when I’ve heard your harsh words about so many others?

I can’t. I can’t trust you and I won’t let you in.

You’re not safe. You think you cover your tracks. You think your words are never known to the one you’re speaking about—and maybe they aren’t. But I’ve seen too much.

You make me want to hide. I stay silent to protect myself from you and the things you will say.

And yet, I know from what I’ve seen, that you talk about me too. I know when I’m not there to defend myself you are critiquing and criticizing my every fault and shortcoming.

I could never be good enough for you—no one can. No one is outside your reach or beyond your words

And yet you say you want to know me.

Why would I ever let you in?

It’s a fearful thing to let someone in. It’s scary to share your story, your faults and fears. It would be mad to share such vulnerabilities with someone you know will turn on you.

My secrets aren’t safe with you and so you’ll never know them. I speak my heart to you and you share my secrets with ten others.

Do you think talking about my problems will fix them? Do you tear me down to build yourself up?

Love could change everything, you know.

If you could love others in spite of their faults. If you could encourage rather than criticize. If you could hold your tongue and open your heart—that could change everything.

If I could trust you, then I could let you in. If I felt safe with you and loved by you, then you could know me.

I know you think you’re helping. I know you think we all have problems you need to fix. But that isn’t how this works. Backbiting never healed a wound, never fixed a problem.

If you could listen and not repeat.

If you could take the good with the bad and respect the journey we are each on.

Then you could get to know me. Then I could let you in and share my story with you.

But not until then. Not as long as I hear the words you say about others behind their back. Not as long as perfection is the standard and every fault is dissected.

No, not yet. Maybe not ever.

It is up to you, Dear One, to decide if others can ever let you in.

Summer Days and Life Lessons

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Earlier this week Darren and I went to the beach with our friends, Victor and Olga. V and O are in love with a beach in Rhode Island that Darren and I had never seen. So we all loaded in our cars and took of to see this spot we’ve heard so much about. A few minutes out from the beach we parked and climbed into Victor’s boat for the rest of the trip out to their spot.

I’m so glad they decided to share this place with us because it’s honestly the prettiest beach front I’ve seen in New England. I was completely mesmerized the whole day. As soon as we were on shore, I was busy walking along the water gathering shells and rocks and I even found a crab claw I plan on terrorizing Darren with.

{Such a happy couple}

{Earthy treasures from the sea}

There was bright green sea weed floating around and lots of the rocks had taken on the same lime green color—so of course I filled my pockets with them to haul back home and scatter around my house. Every time we go to the beach I look for little earthy treasures to take home and decorate with. My living room is filled with mason jars full of sand and shells from all over. There’s also a whole birch tree in my living room, because yes, I drag those indoors too :]

{I drug the tree in the house by myself and cut it in half on the kitchen floor with a hack saw…wahaha}

Darren sometimes forbids me from bringing any more nature indoors and I always smile like I’m listening and fill my pockets anyway. I think he doesn’t mind in the end because he’s always showing off our jars of sea treasure when we have company and telling everyone about the adventures that went along with each bit of nature we’ve brought back home.

Once we unloaded all our stuff from the boat and settled in on the beach, the boys decided to take the boat back out on the ocean exploring. Olga and I opted for staying on the beach with the kids and away from the wild ocean waves—we know too well by now how those boys like to drive the boat like it’s a water rocket.

{The boys}

The kids took off for the sand and waves and were quickly busy digging holes and building sand castles by the sea.

{The kids + Victor digging in the sand}

Victor and Olga are Russian. They have three children; the oldest is in school and speaks English perfectly. Their daughter hasn’t started school yet and only speaks Russian. And then there’s the baby who speaks, well, baby. They also have a little boy from the Ukraine staying with them for the summer and he only speaks Ukrainian. So there were three children playing together prattling off in three different languages and yet they understood each other perfectly. Childhood is simply a language all its own.

{All the world is magic when you are five years old}

Olga and I settled into camping chairs in the sand with our legs and arms stretched out hoping for a kiss from the sun.

Just me and Olga.

Olga scares me a little bit because she’s very pretty and put together. She always wears nice clothes and has her hair done. She even smells good…how ridiculous is that? I always walk away from my time with her feeling like a frump and loser who needs to get her life together. It’s not Olga’s fault I feel this way either. She’s very nice and doesn’t do anything to make me feel bad. It’s my own jealousy and insecurity that leaves me feeling this way and not anything she needs to change. I share this because I knew going into our little beach trip that I wouldn’t have any fun if I let my feelings about O intimidate me. I decided this time I wanted things to be different. I wanted to relax and give O a chance instead of putting her in a little box of perfection she may not herself want to be in.

On the boat ride over to the beach I kept glancing over at her. She looked lovely. Her outfit was cute. Her hair wasn’t attacking her in the wind like mine was. I wanted to push her off the boat. No I didn’t…well, I sort of did :] But I decided I was going to do my best to open up and get to know her better that day. Usually I clam up and try to play it cool so she won’t figure out how not together my life is. But I knew I was being fake and frivolous and it was time to get past fear and insecurity. So after the boys left we started chatting…just our usual small talk at first. But then I started asking her questions and she asked me questions too. I thought I would be miserable trying to talk to her and open up but before I knew it the sun was dipping behind the sandy hills and were wrapping up in sweaters to stay warm. Olga told me about her life. She told me about some of the things that are bothering her and things that aren’t going right. She would stop sometimes, struggling to think of a word in English or how to communicate an idea from Russian to English. She told me I’m the only person she ever really speaks to in English and she feels silly when she can’t think of a word. I couldn’t believe Olga ever felt silly in front of me. I told her I forget words in English too and it’s the only language I speak :]

{Beautiful Olga}

I learned a lot about O that day and I learned a lot about myself too. I learned that as perfect as Olga looks and seems, she is a girl just like me. A girl with a heart that can be broken, feelings that get hurt, and fears that follow her just like me. I learned that I don’t need to try to be like Olga to have my life put together. I just need to be who I am, as imperfect as that may be. If I wear things because Olga wears them or say things because Olga says them, I’m not more like her, I’m just less like me. I cheat myself by thinking imitation will bring me any closer to who I should be. The truth is, Olga and I are very different people. We grew up in different countries and even in America, take part in very different cultures. She is six years older than me and the mother of three children. We are in very different places in life. How can I expect to know and be all that she is when we are so different in the very fibers that make us who we are? I realized that day, as we snacked on fresh fruit and treats from the Russian grocer, that my fears and insecurities are just that—fear and insecurity. There is nothing wrong with me and there is nothing unattainable about Olga; we are just different people. I’m glad I gave O a chance because I left the beach that day with a great sense of peace and confidence. Instead of feeling unattractive and inadequate, I left feeling inspired. Inspired to be the person I’m meant to be. Inspired to learn from the things I admire in Olga, not to merely mimic them. Inspired to grow and change…into myself, not into someone else.

{This is who I am, no one else}

The boys came back with the last rays of light and soon we were all marching off to get ice cream together. We sat on a wall with our ice cream watching the boats bobble on the water. There was a cannon like BOOM and people screamed; I laughed. Laughter is a nervous reaction for me. I have a feeling when the ol’ apocalypse gets here I’ll be laying on the ground giggling while everyone else runs for their lives. Maybe it’s a coping mechanism :] Victor said they do that BOOM to let everyone know it’s sunset. Olga joked about how we should probably know it’s sunset without a cannon going off and we all laughed. Of course she’s funny too…maybe I’ll push her off the boat on the way back home :]

It was a lovely day of sand and sunshine…and a life lesson or two as well. I’m thankful.

We left after dark. The black water looked like pools of ink as we glided over it. I wanted to dip my quill in it and write you a story, this story.


Using Prayer as an Excuse for Inaction

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It’s easy when we hear about needs and problems in each other’s lives to promise we’ll pray for one another. Prayer is of course a very powerful and important resource in our lives. But sometimes prayer can be misused as an easy way out of taking action in the lives of those who are hurting. We misuse prayer when:

1) We fail to see how we can help each other by taking action: We mean well when we promise to pray but it’s easy to overlook the practical ways we can help on a physical level too. In addition to our prayers we could:

  • Take a meal to a new mother, someone who is sick or injured, someone who is grieving, or to a family struggling financially.
  • Listen to someone who just needs to talk through feelings and be heard.
  • Volunteer time to help around the house or yard or to run errands.
  • Babysit for a busy mom or someone who is sick or grieving.
  • Write a letter to encourage and let someone know they’re being thought of and aren’t alone.
  • Say yes as much as possible when asked for help or a listening ear.

“I learned that faith isn’t about knowing all of the right stuff or obeying a list of rules. It’s something more, something more costly because it involves being present and making a sacrifice. Perhaps that’s why Jesus is sometimes called Immanuel—‘God with us.’ I think that’s what God had in mind, for Jesus to be present, to just be with us. It’s also what He has in mind for us when it comes to other people.” Bob Goff (p. 8 Love Does)

2) We use prayer to turn a blind eye: Sometimes we don’t want to get involved in other people’s lives or in problems that seem too big for us. We hear about kids being run through the foster care system needing loving homes and families but we’re afraid or overwhelmed by the idea of bringing a child into our own home—so we say we’ll pray instead and never really stop and consider if there’s more we should be doing. We notice the mom who always snaps at her children in public and never stop to consider if she needs rest, help, or encouragement. We don’t want to get our hands dirty. We’re too busy and too tired to get involved in the messy lives of others so we say we’ll pray (and perhaps we even do) all the while turning a blind eye to the physical needs all around us.

“Jesus told the people he was with that it’s not enough to just look like you love God. He said we’d know the extent of our love for God by how well we loved people.” Bob Goff (p. 15 Love Does)

3) We use prayer to guard ourselves from heartache: Getting involved in people’s lives can get messy. When you open your heart up to love and action, you open yourself up to the possibility of getting hurt. It’s so much easier to say, “I’ll be praying for you” than it is to get in the trenches and ask, “What can I do to help?” But the love of God is a love deep enough to take action—to take risks and offer love in spite of the potential for heartache. God did not guard his heart from us; we should not guard ourselves from others. God’s heart was broken for us—will we let our heart be broken for him?

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.” C.S. Lewis in The Four Loves

4) We use prayer to cover wrongs rather than dealing with them: Sometimes when we say we’ll pray, all we really need to say is, “I’m sorry.” I know of a situation where someone has been wronged and hurt by someone else. The wrongdoer tells the wronged that they’re praying for them but those prayers (however sincere) are falling on deaf ears. Until the wrong has been made right, prayers will only add insult to injury. The person hurt does not want to be prayed for; he wants only to be apologized to. And until an apology is made, prayer comes off as arrogant and insincere. If you have wronged someone, make it right with them—not just in your prayers to God but in your actions toward the one you have hurt.

“We don’t like to put hands and feet on love. When love is a theory, it’s safe, it’s free of risk. But love in the brain changes nothing.” Donald Miller

God’s love is played out in verbs as should be the love we have for each other. So, the next time you tell someone you’ll pray for them—do so—and then ask what else you can do to demonstrate your love in action.

Night Mail

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You want to hear a story? Oh good.

So, the husband and I attended a university where guys and girls still live in separate dorms across campus from each other. You can call it old-fashioned but having separate dorms led to something rather adorable in my book: Night Mail. You see, the guys and girls each had a wooden box rigged up on wheels with a rope on the front to pull it around. In these boxes the students would leave letters and packages addressed to each other and at night, after we were all back in our rooms for curfew, a couple of guys or girls (depending on who’s turn it was) would grab the wooden box and roll it across campus through the dark laughing and giggling about all the love letters and cologne drenched envelopes being sent from one heart to another. Once to the other side of campus, the boxes were exchanged and the letters dropped off in stacks at each of the dormitories. Then a couple more students would take the stacks of letters and slide them under Romeo or Juliet’s door. It was a hoot…and quite romantic, really. I remember how exciting it was when a letter with my name came sliding under the door. I would snatch it up, hop in bed, and pour over the words of the man who would later become my husband. Darren and I now have boxes of letters from our dating days. So much of our relationship is scripted out in the words we wrote back and forth as we came to know and love each other. Darren the artist filled his letters with drawings and illustrations that still make me smile when I come across them. My favorite picture he drew was of me calling him:

The little guy jumping in the air–gets me every time :]

Between night mail and all the time we spent living across the country from each other, written letters became a staple in our relationship–and we still write each other letters today. Sometimes old fashion is the best fashion of all, kids ;]

When It All Gets to Be Too Much

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Sometimes I feel like all I ever do is gawk at a computer screen. Between working in front of a computer and writing on a computer, there are days when I literally spend hours connected to technology. Then you add in the time spent on Facebook, Twitter, reading other blogs and the news, online shopping, and all the other things I end up doing on the internet and sometimes it all just gets to be too much. It’s a funny thing though, because even though I’m starting to get overwhelmed by hyper-connectivity, every time I pull away from the computer for a few minutes, I start to miss it. I start to wonder if anyone has said anything exciting on Facebook or if I’ve had any hits on my blog. I start to wonder if one of my favorite stores has put anything on sale online or if I have any email. It’s like I’m addicted to the screen–like I don’t know what else to do with myself if I’m not clicking around on the computer.

Yesterday I really started to stop and think about how much of myself I devote to screen time–and in doing so, how much of myself I take away from the people and things that should matter so much more than an email or an online sale. How often do I whittle away precious time with my husband by pulling out the laptop instead of sitting and talking to him? It’s amazing how the two of us can be in the same room, sitting right next to each other, and still be completely disconnected by the TV and internet standing between us.

I realize I’m starting to get burnt out and just need to take a break for a while. Fortunately, next week will be the perfect opportunity to do so. Darren and I will be taking a break together and will be cut off from internet, TV, video games, phone–the works. We’ll be spending time just the two of us without all the distractions of technology and hyper-connectivity.

I can’t wait to just sit and look at him. To look at the man who stole my heart in spite of all my fighting, the man who works so hard to provide for us and to show me his great love–just to sit and look at the big brown eyes that won me over 7 years ago and still win me over every single day. How could I ever pass those eyes up for a computer screen? Sorry to be so sappy, but I’m just starting to realize what I’ve been missing out on and can’t wait to really reconnect with a person, not the internet.

“As if you could kill time without injuring eternity.” Henry David Thoreau

Beauty and Strength of the Old

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My great-grandparents Clarence and Dorothy Williams

I am a very lucky girl. I’ve had the privilege of knowing all four of my grandparents and my great-grandmother. And not only did I get to know them, but knew them well enough to count them as friends. I always joke about how I come from a long line of eccentric women and never stood a chance–my grandma is a bit of a firecracker :] But I really am so thankful for each of the men and women who are a part of my heritage and helped make me who I am. I’m especially close to my grandmother, or Grams, as we call her. My brothers and I are her only grandchildren so we got spoiled having her and Pops (grandpa) all to ourselves. I also got to live with Grams and Pops during the summers when home from college and got to soak up special times and memories with them during those years.

Grams and Pops with my mom and Uncle Mark at the Kansas City fire station where my grandpa was a firefighter and Captain for 25 years

Grams came out last fall and spent a month with me and Darren. We took off and explored all the corners of New England during those four weeks. We sat on Hampton Beach enjoying the moody ocean on New Hampshire’s coastline. We walked around Brattleboro and took in all the breathtaking beauty of the fall leaves in Vermont. We sat in a 1950s diner in Connecticut sipping malts, playing music on the jukebox, and sharing stories. We explored Old Orchard Beach, the Height of the Land, and the lighthouse on Port Elizabeth in Maine. We took the ferry to Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty and walked until we couldn’t take another step exploring the streets of New York City. We poked around antique stores here in Massachusetts and happened upon The Apple Barn Café–a hole in the wall restaurant that has since become my favorite breakfast joint. We sat at the kitchen table sipping coffee and sharing memories. Snuggled up on the couch watching chick flicks and every movie we could find based on a John Grisham novel. We thought, since Grams is full-blooded German, ourselves qualified to try our hand at German cooking–we aren’t. Everything we made ended up in the trash where it belonged.
Those four weeks are very special to me–every moment, every memory we created and shared I hold onto and cherish. I hold on because I know I can’t have the people I love forever. I’ve lost two of my grandparents in the last 18 months so the reality of saying goodbye is real and present. You get used to the people around you and take for granted the ones you love–until they are taken away and there is no more time to call “when you get a chance” or visit when “you’re not so busy.” I realize too, that my Gram is a very special lady and I’m very lucky having her in my life. Gram, like so many older people, has experienced life in both its exhilarating heights and its dark depths. And in living through so much, she has gained wisdom and experience I don’t have at 26.

Pops with my mom and uncle Mark

Our fast-paced American society doesn’t always value older people but having spent so much time with my grandparents and other older adults, I truly believe they are some of the most beautiful and valuable people we can ever know. Society idolizes youth–the strength, beauty, creativity, and zeal of the young. Young people do have much to offer but we aren’t the only ones with something to offer. We may possess a beauty and strength unique to youth–but let us not overlook the very different, but very real, beauty and strength of the old. What is real beauty after all? The young woman with firm skin and glossy hair, untouched my life and heartache? Or the grandmother with wrinkles and gray hair–each wrinkle a mark of life’s journey–of hard work, heartache, and heart overflowing? The gray hair earned–earned staying up late and getting up early caring for the young, carrying life’s burdens so the young wouldn’t have to. Am I wiser at 26 because I can think and move faster than I will at 86?

My great-grandparents Clem and Catherine Denning

I came across this letter written from an aging mother to her daughter; it’s such a good challenge and reminder about how we should love and respect the old:
“My dear girl, the day you see I’m getting …old, I ask you to please be patient, but most of all, try to understand what I’m going through. If when we talk, I repeat the same thing a thousand times, don’t interrupt to say: “You said the same thing a minute ago”… Just listen, please. Try to remember the times when you were little and I would read the same story night after night until you would fall asleep. When I don’t want to take a bath, don’t be mad and don’t embarrass me. Remember when I had to run after you making excuses and trying to get you to take a shower when you were just a girl? When you see how ignorant I am when it comes to new technology, give me the time to learn and don’t look at me that way… remember, honey, I patiently taught you how to do many things like eating appropriately, getting dressed, combing your hair and dealing with life’s issues every day… the day you see I’m getting old, I ask you to please be patient, but most of all, try to understand what I’m going through. If I occasionally lose track of what we’re talking about, give me the time to remember, and if I can’t, don’t be nervous, impatient or arrogant. Just know in your heart that the most important thing for me is to be with you. And when my old, tired legs don’t let me move as quickly as before, give me your hand the same way that I offered mine to you when you first walked. When those days come, don’t feel sad… just be with me, and understand me while I get to the end of my life with love. I’ll cherish and thank you for the gift of time and joy we shared. With a big smile and the huge love I’ve always had for you, I just want to say, I love you… my darling daughter.”
For every wrinkle and scar from life’s journey, for every moment lived and every experience gained, for the wisdom of years, for the love and patience given to care for the young, for the sacrifices made to benefit those who follow–let us value and honor the old. Let us be patient when they forget, remembering how much they know. Let us be compassionate when they are slow, remembering how far they have come. Let us love, remembering how much they first loved us. With Mother’s Day around the bend, let us value and love each of the old (and not so old) people in our lives who have filled our hearts with love.

Are You a Downer?

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There are going to be people in life who critique and discourage whatever it is you happen to be doing. There are many others of course who, even with a little constructive criticism here and there, will encourage and help you move forward.

My first reaction to those who immediately find fault in every idea and situation is to distance myself–not because I expect everyone to like and agree with everything I do and think, but because I’ve learned these people aren’t going to like or agree with anything I do or think; they’re going to drag me down and prevent me from moving forward with joy and confidence.

I call these people downers. Downers miss out on so much: They miss out on being close to people because people don’t trust them and don’t want to be close. They miss out on all the parts of the life and self people keep tucked away from their critical words.

I’ve been asking myself today:

  • Am I a downer?
  • Am I the person who finds fault with others and constantly discourages when I should be lifting up?
  • Are my words, thoughtless or otherwise, hurtful to those around me?
  • Am I being sarcastic when I should be honest and compassionate?
  • Am I a person others can turn to with vulnerable ideas and feelings or am I someone people hide thoughts and feelings from to protect themselves?

Not every idea is a good idea. Not every action deserves a pat on the back. But if it is in my power to encourage and build up those around me in an honest, constructive way, that is exactly what I should be doing.

It’s Now or Never—Building Relationships

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Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about the small windows of opportunity we have in life–especially concerning relationships. People universally want to be loved and accepted; we want to know that the people we care about care about us too. If I care about someone who doesn’t seem to care about me, the window of opportunity for that person to build a relationship with me closes quickly because I’m inclined to pull away and close up in order to avoid getting hurt. I’m not even talking about romantic relationships but friendship and family relationships too.

I see this in a lot of parent/child relationships. When kids are little and always at their parents’ heels, the parents take for granted that their children will always want their time and attention. Parents are busy people–they are often tired and running in five directions at once trying to keep up with all their responsibilities. In the hustle, kids sometimes (for long times) fall to the side. And then the kids grow up–fast–and they are gone. They grow busy with their own lives and concerns and pretty soon the tables are turned. The parents’ lives are perhaps now slowing down and they finally have the time they’ve always wanted to spend with their kids–but the kids are gone. They’re in college, or married with children of their own, or living far away and that small window of opportunity to build a lasting parent/child relationship is closed to some extent. Not that you can’t rebuild relationships, of course you can, but it will take far more time and work when you’ve pushed people away and have to re-earn their trust.

So often it’s now or never and never comes so soon.

I’m learning that if I want to have deep meaningful relationships with people, then I have to make those people a big priority in my life. I have to let people know they matter to me and they’re worth my time even if my time is limited.

I have five brothers and none of us have been very close since we all left home. The six of us are spread out from Missouri to Louisiana to Massachusetts so get-togethers are few and far apart. We go months upon months without speaking at all–no phone calls, text messages, e-mails, nothing. This is hard for me because I want to be closer to my family. I always tell myself that the lack of communication is just because they’re men and men don’t always want or need the same level of communication that women do. But the truth is, they can’t communicate with me regardless of whether they’re good communicators or not if I don’t make time for them and let them know they matter to me. They never call I say, but I never call either. Maybe I’ll call and the phone will just ring and go to voicemail and maybe they’ll never call me back–but I won’t know if I don’t try and if I don’t try my window of opportunity to stay close and build a relationship may shut sooner and longer than I think.

If I shut people out of my life when I feel like I’m not important to them, who am I to think they won’t do the same to me?

Harry Chapin’s song Cats in the Cradle reminds me of all this. I didn’t understand the meaning of the song when I was younger but I’ve always liked the way it sounds. Now I see just how true his words are and how important it is that I make people a priority in my life–before it’s too late.

Cats in the Cradle

“My child arrived just the other day He came to the world in the usual way But there were planes to catch and bills to pay He learned to walk while I was away And he was talkin’ ‘fore I knew it, and as he grew He’d say “I’m gonna be like you dad You know I’m gonna be like you”
And the cat’s in the cradle and the silver spoon Little boy blue and the man on the moon When you comin’ home dad? I don’t know when, but we’ll get together then son You know we’ll have a good time then
My son turned ten just the other day He said, “Thanks for the ball, Dad, come on let’s play Can you teach me to throw”, I said “Not today I got a lot to do”, he said, “That’s ok” And he walked away but his smile never dimmed And said, “I’m gonna be like him, yeah You know I’m gonna be like him”
And the cat’s in the cradle and the silver spoon Little boy blue and the man on the moon When you comin’ home son? I don’t know when, but we’ll get together then son You know we’ll have a good time then
Well, he came home from college just the other day So much like a man I just had to say “Son, I’m proud of you, can you sit for a while?” He shook his head and said with a smile “What I’d really like, Dad, is to borrow the car keys See you later, can I have them please?”
And the cat’s in the cradle and the silver spoon Little boy blue and the man on the moon When you comin’ home son? I don’t know when, but we’ll get together then son You know we’ll have a good time then
I’ve long since retired, my son’s moved away I called him up just the other day I said, “I’d like to see you if you don’t mind” He said, “I’d love to, Dad, if I can find the time You see my new job’s a hassle and kids have the flu But it’s sure nice talking to you, Dad It’s been sure nice talking to you”
And as I hung up the phone it occurred to me He’d grown up just like me My boy was just like me
And the cat’s in the cradle and the silver spoon Little boy blue and the man on the moon When you comin’ home son? I don’t know when, but we’ll get together then son You know we’ll have a good time then”