Tag Archives: relationships

Belonging: So, the “cheers” bar in Boston is really big. A lot bigger than the one on TV.

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I’m in a group of women who are on this semi-secret mission to support a mutual friend as she completes a major life task. She invited us to walk beside her, and we’ve become a sort of sorority with secret bracelets and books. (Don’t ask questions. That’s all you’re gonna get outta me. I’ve been keeping this secret for 6 months.)

I’ve also been jamming with a bunch of my favorite girlfriends who have decided to be a bit of a girl-band. It’s like… it’s like pure security. It’s like I can walk into the room and know that I have a place at the “table.” It’s the complete opposite of my High School lunch periods, but that had more to do with me and my issues than any of them. (And I mean that, y’all. I know some of you read this.)

I felt that very same belonging feeling with my group of friends at seminary. We all rallied around one another for foot soakings and bible studies and birthday parties. I miss them…

I want to be a person who can share that sense of belonging with others. To create a “community” around my life. Especially since not everyone has that feeling. But, I know that the more people I invite in, the bigger the group gets. And, soon little groups split off from one big Cheers bar where everyone hangs out, to a two story bar/restaurant with lots of rooms and tables and mini-conversations happening all at once. And not everybody knows everybody’s name. Gah. That’s when my introversion kicks into high gear and I just wanna hole up in a corner of the room with two or three other people and have our own little thing going.

But, instead, I’m going to float between tables–spend deliberate time with deliberate groups in deliberate conversations.

*Here’s to making time. Cheers.*

How do you find that sense of belonging in life?

Confession: Facebook messages make me nervous

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A while ago I posted the above “status update” on facebook. Then I had to sit back and figure out why. (Remember my post about how I need to understand things?)

Anyway – I think I came up with a pretty convincing theory as to why. At least, I’ve convinced myself:

One of my many relational flaws is that I’m not so great at keeping up with old friends from other life stages. I really don’t like this about myself. Especially since I so deeply value my friendships. So y’all wonder why I don’t keep contact with my friends if I value them so much? Yeah – I’m wondering the same thing. Add that to the list of things I need to figure out.

Back to the old friends. They’re reconnecting with me on Facebook. And new friends, too. (hey everybody!) And every once in a while I’ll get a new message in my Facebook inbox. And a lot of those messages are from old friends. The old friends I really loved but somehow lost track of.

And when I see a message from one of them, I’m reminded of the fact that I don’t do well in keeping up with friends.

Now I know you’re thinking “But everybody does that. We can’t expect everyone to stay in contact with us all the time.”

Right.

But I think the message might say: “Where have you been all these years? And why haven’t you kept in touch?” or a nicer version of that. Hence the “I did something wrong” reaction.

And here’s the heart of the matter: I hope I’ve never caused someone to feel forgotten. There’s nothing worse than that feeling. I know because I’ve felt it. If you’re reading this, and I’ve caused that feeling, I’m so incredibly sorry. And, I haven’t forgotten you. Not at all. The memories are still there – still treasured.

So, what do y’all do? How do you keep up with old friends from different times and places? And what can/should I do differently?

The Other Mandy Thompson

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He looked me up and down.

Me: “Did you know there’s a Mandy Thompson who’s a Playboy model?”

Him: “You mean you’re not her?!”

[pause to sip coffee]

Him: “Our whole marriage has been based on a lie!!”

His exaggerated sarcasm and flattery sent me into waves of throw-my-head-back laughter.

I was leaning against the kitchen sink, trying to finish breakfast. I was still in my not-cute-at-all pajamas — you know, the frumpy faded & frayed stuff you wear when no one, not even your man, is looking. And to make matters worse, yesterday’s makeup had been forced to work overtime on a 24-hour shift, and had spent the night marching in smudged protest lines around my eyes…

And this isn’t the first time he’s looked at me like that while I looked like this.

In those moments, we fall in love all over again. In the moments that come with the everyday beauty of life – not the stuff that is a response to a twenty-year-old calorie-starved body. Not the stuff that makeup artists and photoshop designers can manipulate. Not the sunsets and soundtracks that movies are made of. Not the imaginary hook-up that today’s top-download on iTunes was written about.

Real love comes with real life. Stuff like dirty jeans spilling out of the clothes hamper or tears falling from honest eyes. Stuff that smells like fresh coffee and under-used dishwashing detergent and a neglected trash can. Stuff that sounds like the neighbor’s paranoid Doberman and the unyielding alarm clock and the argument that just happens sometimes.

That’s the kind of love that I want. And I’m so glad that it’s the kind of love that he wants, too.

Sitting.

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Yesterday I sat still with her 5 month old boy hunched over my forearm, fast asleep amidst the noise and music and distractions that come with a post-church lunch at a semi-fast food burger joint. And we laughed. And I got to hear bits and pieces of her heart – of her life and what God is doing – how she’s changed and yet is still the same old friend I knew in highschool. And I was quiet – and I listened  - and I learned.

Later that night I spent hours on a new friend’s back porch- from the heat of day ’til well-past sundown… Talking. Telling stories. Telling secrets. I was quiet again. I did a lot of listening, but I got to know my friends so much better. And I learned about life, and parenthood, and college stories, and world travel, and all sorts of random things.

All from sitting.

And these days, I’m blind to reasons why I’m not as introspective now as I used to be. Why I’m not as self-aware. Why I can’t tell you what I think or feel about certain things.

Maybe I should just sit more. Away from the laptop or cell phone or to-do list. Away from productivity and information overload.

Sit.

And listen to my own soul tell me its secrets – tell me stories that I haven’t heard in a while – or stories that I haven’t heard told before. Maybe then I will know myself again. Maybe.

What do you do to know yourself?

Control and trust and pride – and what you’d see if you looked inside

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Here’s another peek at the inside of my brain – an unedited (grrrr) snippet of writing from one of my daily 800s (feel free to comment on anything and everything today, just like I rambled on in these words):

what is control? what is it really? do we really have that much influence over life and the circumstnaces that fill our day? how much influence do I have on whether or not I make it to work in the morning? I trust that all those other coffee-soaked drivers are going to behave themselves. there’s so much trust involved in driving down the street. and I don’t know these people – but I do know that if one of them does something even slightly out of the regulations for driving, then my life may be over. every time we enter a car and drive down the road, we are putting our lives in the hands of other drivers. how can we be so blindly trusting of complete strangers?

trust. is it something that is earned, or something that is automatically given? I think most of us start off with the assumption that someone is good – that there is inherent generosity and patronage inside of them. I think that’s because we want to believe that there lies within us that same measure of goodwill…. I think trust sits as the foundational act of the golden rule. it is embedded in our very nature – we trust because we want to be trusted – we want others to say of us that we are upstanding and clean and all-around good natured.

but are we? are we, at our core level, any degree of amiable? or do we (let’s be honest here) spend most of our mental time criticizing and governing and checking and redirecting our selves? which is it? do we live in the land of self-approval or self-abasement?

my vote? self-abasement…. those who are proud are only proud in the sense that they are lying to themselves – they are attempting to counterbalance their own sense of worthlessness by declaring, to a world that can see right through them, that they are in fact notable.

Note: Why on earth did I choose the adjective “clean” as one of the things we would want others to say of us? Do I have some remnant of Junior High insecurity curled up in a dark corner of my soul?