Someone close to me brought me a meal.
I hadn’t had a baby, broken a leg or been in a car accident.
But she brought me a meal.
So did another friend, and she was the one who had just delivered. I was supposed to bring her a meal.
Words sent to someone else and passed on to me — kind, affirming, validating.
These things breathed air into my floppy balloon, the one that was in danger of settling on the floor, a puckered, withered, sandy shadow of the party favor it had once been. Their words, their phone calls, their messages, buoyed me up and let me float in a more proper balloon-y place.
Maybe I’m not floating on an airstream across the world with a special note hanging from my string, but
I’m more in that middle air of the hallway, at the level that makes you think there’s a person walking towards you,
the kind that makes you jump and if someone’s watching they laugh to see your surprise. That moment that gives freedom from worry and concern, hope that there will be laughter again.
The encouragement of friends who hold you up when it is hard to get off the floor — this is a precious thing indeed.
Join a great group of people for Five Minute Friday to write without editing for the sheer joy of it. Find out more at http://lisa-jobaker.com.
Are you facing challenges or a hard time? This is a safe place to share about it. I genuinely hope you have people in your life who can help breath air into your life. Maybe in the comments we should name names. Who is an encourager in your life?
Timer set for five minutes. Ready. Set. GO.
I lost my crockpot.
Don’t ask me how.
If I could retrace my steps and figure out how I lost it, I’d be able to find it.
And I can’t.
It’s not like a chapstick or a pencil. You don’t have another one laying around in the bottom of a drawer someplace. It’s definitely not a huge deal, but when you’ve started using one, you find it is a nice option to have.
So when I took my son to his friend’s house, I told the funny story of not being able to find it. “Who loses a crockpot?!” I joked.
The mom said, “Do you want one of mine?”
She told me she had an extra one she never uses, an inexpensive one she picked up somewhere along the way, one she didn’t need.
My pride department wanted to keep me from taking it. But my time management department told me I could really use it. And she was being generous, offering me a gift. She wouldn’t offer if she didn’t want to.
So I took the crockpot, almost accidentally broke it on the way out the door. and now my family can have shredded pork tacos again. But the takeaway is that I almost missed out on the chance to be part of this new friend’s story of generosity. My pride almost kept me from allowing her to help me. And how often, especially as moms, do we choose to tough it out because we don’t want to admit we need help?
Like most Fridays, this post is part of a linkup with Lisa-jo Baker’s Five Minute Fridays. You write for five minutes flat, then linkup your post on her website: http://lisajobaker.com . Check it out for more details, but if you’re interested in finding other writers to connect with, Five Minute Fridays is a great way to do so.
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The title of this post has connotations that can be misinterpreted. I’m currently coming down from a trip to Michigan to see my almost-niece get married, not from some wild weekend rave (do they still have those?) with bubbles and glowsticks. The bride is the daughter of one of my dearest friends, one of those special people who are too close to be called a friend any more; she qualifies as family.
The cool thing is that I travelled out there with another cross-over friend/family and her young son. He did great, the conversation was deep, there was laughter, tears, and often the two quickly followed each other. There was a celebration of friendship, faith, love and redemption. It was wonderful.
The reality of coming home is at once overwhelming and endearing, and if we’re being honest, a tiny bit of a bummer. I mean, where’s the adrenaline? Where are the high emotions and significant life moments? I’m home with three young kids and while there are definitely moments of high emotions, most of the time they ain’t that significant. They’re more emotional “I stubbed my piggy toe!” and “He won’t let me have that toy!” moments.
And the dishwasher stinks.
And sand in my bed.
And dog poop in the yard.
And a sick child who has to go to urgent care.
It takes me a couple days to reacclimate and shake off the starchy, pop magazine, sugar-induced fog from the airport and hotel room. It goes without saying that I miss my husband and kids when I’m away. A good friend liked to say to her kids, “If I don’t ever go away from you, I can’t miss you.” A little break is a good thing, even if the re-entry give you a minor case of whiplash. It is good to be reminded as a mom that the family can carry on without you. But it is nice to know that they notice when you’re gone, or maybe that you can tell when you’ve been gone.
Moms of the world, don’t underestimate your value. It takes a lot to keep a household running. See it as a good thing that things are a disaster when you return — this is the tidal wave you hold at bay every day. We matter, and it is nice to have our absence noticed…even if it is only noticed by us. 🙂