No chance to say goodbye

They didn't giver her any warning.  No hints about what was coming or when.  They simply showed up at lunch and gave her the news.  It would be her last day at school.  They were moving away. 

"You should have seen her, Kathy," Ben's teacher said.  "She just cried and cried.  She was a mess."  They came, ate lunch, told the sweet 2nd grader the news, and then left her behind to finish out the day in a heap of tears.  They didn't even warn Mrs. K until that morning, so no party or special goodbyes could be planned.  Just here one day and gone the next.

"How long ago did she move?" I asked. 

I suspected that I already knew the answer.  The day before, I started forming a hypothesis in my mind about when Ben's best classmate, Kaylee, moved away.  You see, approximately three weeks ago, we had a really bumpy "off" week.  My middle man was more sensitive and readily frustrated than usual, walking around like Eeyore under a rain cloud, but with no overt or apparent explanation.  But, for some reason, just the other day, I recalled that a month or so prior to week of gloom, I learned that Kaylee would be moving "sometime" before the end of the year.

"Ummm...let's see...that would have been about three weeks ago," Mrs. K said reflectively.

I knew it.  Within my heart I knew there must have been a reason for the drearier than usual week or so in the beginning of April.  And yet, my sensitive man, who doesn't always find the words to express himself, did not could not explain what it was that troubled him so.  From all outward appearances, things were business as usual around the house and at school, but clearly something was brewing inside.  I just couldn't figure out what it was.  Mrs. K probably figured Ben would tell me this significant news, but his broken heart wouldn't betray him.  Instead, he simply buried the hurt I now suspect he felt and exchanged it for an external attitude and cloud of dread.

When I realized all of this, my heart just broke.  My heart broke for my son's sweet friend Kaylee.  I just couldn't imagine how hard that day must have been for her.  Without warning, her whole world changed.  The security of life as she knew it was shattered in the span of a 20 minute lunch in a crowded cafeteria.  No goodbye party.  No special goodbye book or photographs.  No opportunities to exchange parent e-mail or snail mail addresses to give at least the allusion that friendships could somehow continue from a distance.  No chance to say goodbye to the staff members that weren't present that day.  [Mrs. K mentioned that, just a day ago, they found a note taped to the wall for one of the other staff members who wasn't able to say goodbye.  Kaylee wrote it and taped it on the wall without telling anyone, with the hopes that this other special adult in her life would find it.]  No chance to process the move with her parents prior to returning to class and sticking it out through to the end of the day.  "She just kept crying." 

I wish I could have been there...to hug her, to reassure her, to tell her how happy I was that she and Ben were friends, to let her know that she would make good friends again soon, to hug her again, to remind her that she is a valuable person, to thank her for making Ben's move to a new school just a little bit easier.  I wish I could have been there to show her I cared about her. 

And, of course, my heart broke...crumbled really...for my Ben.  I ached for his tender heart that surely felt this as another loss, whether or not he could verbalize it himself...first his tummy mommy, then his best friends in Parksville (Ty and Nick), next his best friend in Calgary (Isaiah), and now his best classroom friend here.  I felt sorry that I didn't know and couldn't help him process through seeing his friend fall apart, knowing she would no longer be his best peer connection in an environment that challenges him on a daily basis (in really good, but really hard ways).  I couldn't help but feel sad knowing that I did not know why he was acting the way he was, but was so frustrated by it.  In reality, had I known, perhaps I would have been more patient, more gentle, more of something that he needed to work through this.  As many mommys might, I worried that my amazing son might not quickly find another little friend to help fill this need in his life...how valuable it is for each child to have at least one classroom friend that they feel they can be themselves with.  Kaylee, for whatever reason, was this person to Ben.  From what I understand, Ben was that to her as well.  She was always the first of Ben's friends to greet me when I stopped by for a visit and the first one he picked to join us when we sat at the Guest Table.  I wish I had known and could have been there for Ben...given him a safe place to share the feelings he might not have even understood or was afraid to voice.  I wish I could have known and given Ben an extra bit of attention and care...maybe cut him some slack...and just loved on him even more.  I wish through this time, he would have known just how much I cared about him and the things that are of importance to him.

I should have known something was up.  I just couldn't put my finger on it.  I should have known better, but I didn't.  Sometimes I hate these life lessons as they can be painfully humbling, reflecting a weakness in my perceived perfection (*note: I am giggling inside as there is NO perceived perfection here.  However, I do perceive myself more put together than I am sometimes...and sometimes, I perceive myself less together than I really am.  Funny - in a sad sort of way - that we play these silly head games, waffling between pride and insecurity.  That is a thought for another day, however).  At any rate, as sad as I was for Kaylee and Ben, I was happy to know the root of the ugly that hung around for a few days.  I was glad to have a "reason" for the exaggerated yuck.  As well, it reminded me that while always finding excuses for crummy behaviour isn't a good thing, understanding when there is something more than meets the eye is.  Perhaps this experience will help tune me in a bit more to the moments that I would rather tune out.  And, perhaps, it will remind me not to take my Kaylees for granted.

Now, go hug your kid (if you have one) and tell one of your Kaylees how much you appreciate them.  And, as always, thanks for reading!

Kids that color together...

One of my favourite things is seeing and hearing my children get along with one another.  There is such contentment in watching them work together, play together, and encourage one another.  A kind word shared between two or three of them is like a song to my spirit.  A helpful hand or supportive gesture is a gift not only amongst themselves, but directly to me as well.  Cooperative laughter and giggles is the best kind of medicine.


One of the cool things my kids enjoy doing together is drawing or coloring.  Over the last year, especially, I have found them time and time again, lined up in a row, coloring together.  Often times, one starts out, proclaiming that he or she is going to color.  Before I know it, another has joined in.  Eventually all three are lined up in a row at the bar or gathered round the table.  Often, Zachary can be found coaching or encouraging the younger two as they strive to draw something as intricate or "awesome" as he did.  At times, Elly asks Ben to help her as well, such a confidence building moment for this big brother.  Much of the time, stories are generated along with the drawings...wonderful creative minds at work.

There are, of course, some moments when the cherubs do not get along so well.  But moments like those above are a soothing salve over the scrapes of sibling rivalry.   The joy found in a simple act of putting pen to the page together bonds these three in special ways.  Who knew the power hidden in a marker moment of togetherness?  I can't wait to experience more and more of these moments along the way.  Now, if only, I could figure out to slow the sands of time...

(Short and simple tonight - it's been a busy end to the week!)

Sometimes I feel like a fish...huh?!?

There is a little stream or creek about 2 miles from our house.  It connects the two large lakes close to our home, Spring Lake and Upper Prior Lake. 

This is a map of where we are living.  My neighborhood, on the left with a blue dot,  is not yet developed in this view.  For my far away friends, I've added dots indicating where my parents and my oldest brother live to give perspective of just how close we are to them now that we have moved.  My sister lives just a bit off the map on Lower Prior Lake, which is an extension of the lake to the north.  I feel really fortunate to be so near family and to have so many lakes near by.

For the last couple weeks, I noticed people standing on the banks of the stream looking down into the rushing water.  I kept meaning to stop to see what the fuss was about.  So, yesterday, Elly and I decided to check it out.  I figured there must be a few fish or crayfish hanging out near the bridge.  What we saw, however, surprised both of us!  There were not a few fish, but hundreds of fish!

At first, when we approached the water, I noticed a few of the fish along the shoreline.  But it wasn't until I stood back and really looked at what I was seeing to realize the sheer number of fish that were really there.  Originally, I thought the stream bottom was black. But then, when I looked from a different vantage point, from the direction that the sun was shining, I realized that there were hundreds of fish all massed together, turning the rusty tan stream floor into a black undulating mass.  Oddly there was a natural break from one mass to the next, as seen in the photo to the right.  All that black is fish on top of fish, blending one into another, one hardly distinguishable from the next.

Clearly, the fish were attempting to make their way through the concrete tunnel under the bridge and out to their spawning destination in Spring Lake.  This past fall during road widening, the bridge was reconstructed, however, changing the waterway slightly.  According to my dad, there is some concern that the fish may be having a harder time getting through this year.  As you can see, there are only a few that have made it to the concrete and, from what Elly and I saw, there seemed to be none on the other side.

Elly and I really enjoyed watching the fish.  El decided that she would like to be a fish, though she was sure she did not want to fall into the fish mass.  Later, we also brought the boys by to see this fun phenomenon.

Sometimes, I feel like one of those fish.  Sometimes, I feel as if I am fighting upstream.  I know where I am supposed to be headed.  I may even be able to see the end in sight or know that it is just out of reach.  But, as I fight to gain ground (or water, in the fishie analogy), I feel like I am just stuck....treading water, sometimes making a big 'ole splash, but making no headway.  Maybe the route that has worked in the past suddenly (or not so suddenly) has a new barrier that needs to be overcome.  Perhaps, the rush of day to day life just pushes too hard for too long and I can't seem to break through it to regain momentum.  Most days are not like this, but some days are.  Thankfully, I know there is One who is with me in those moment, fighting the battle along side me.

Sometimes, I feel like one of those fish.  Sometimes, not very often, I feel as if I am just one in a mass of many, hardly distinguishable from the rest.  I wonder on occasion, "What sets me apart?  What makes me unique?  What, if anything, is my 'je ne sais quoi'?"  Although there are times when blending in is a plus (like when you are a zebra trying to confuse a lion or if you don't want to be called on in class), most of us want to be seen as having something of worth or something unique.  Most of us want to be noticed for something - a charming or enduring quality, a unique job, an achievement or accomplishment, the hard work we do, the positive choices we make, the glimmer in our eyes when we smile, the silky softness of our hair (okay, now I'm just being silly).  Most of us don't really want to be just another fish fighting an upstream swim.  When I start to feel this way, I remind myself of the One who made me, fearfully and wonderfully, and who sees me even in my day to day when no one else might.

Thankfully, sometimes, I feel like one of those fish.  While I am not a lover of always blending in with all the other fish around me, I am a lover of community and the support it brings.  Imagine if you were the only fish in that stream trying to make your way through to the next lake.  The water is pushing against you, the hawks are circling above, some city guy messed up your route, and here you are all alone.  (I can hear the sniffles of shared compassion for that fish now.)  Since I am not a fishologist or fish psychologist, I cannot say whether or not fish have some degree of "emotional" need for community that humans do, but clearly (given that many breeds of fish school) there is at least a primal survival need for community.  My need for community is emotional, physical, spiritual, and survival-al (I am sure that is a word).  I am not sure how I would do this life without the support, encouragement, and just plain fun of others.  I cannot count the number of times that a good friend, partner in ministry, or family member came along side me (or my family) in a time of need.  I cannot imagine parenting without others occasionally cheering, affirming, guiding, and listening.  I would surely flounder (pun, possibly intended) if I tried to walk my faith walk without other believers...it can be done, but I'm sure glad I don't have to do it.

And, how boring would life be if I could not also be a part of someone else's community?  I get great joy from being a support and encouragement to others and I just plain loving having fun with others.  Today, I had to miss out on 3, count them 3, adult relational activities due to my sickly daughter (only pink eye, but the risk of spreading eye crust to others kept us hibernating) and the need to be home for one of my sons this afternoon.  I could have had a fabulous Y work out, followed by an early movie or lunch, followed by a late afternoon play date, but I had to turn them all down.  (Okay, in reality, I am not sure I could have handled that busy of a schedule today, but I am all warm inside just knowing that the option was there - I am growing in my community!).  While three back to back opportunities may have done me in, I am so thankful that the One who created the universe, created me with a longing for relationship and community.

Wow!  Who knew that watching fish could bring about so many thoughts?  Okay, probably anyone who knows me well at all knew that something like fish watching would cause me to think a little more than maybe I ought.  No wonder I have such crazy dreams while I sleep.  I gotta work out all the things I didn't get to finish thinking about during the day!  Ha ha!  At any rate, be glad you're not a fish and have a great night!  Oh, and feel free to let me know if and how you ever feel like a fish.  :)

Just for fun

Video games are a big deal at our house.  Somewhat to my chagrin, my kidlets, primarily my boys, really love to play video / computer games.  For one child, this has not really been a big deal.  Like a social drinker, he can handle going a few days without playing games quite nicely.  But when given the opportunity, he enjoys kicking back and playing one of his favourites.  He especially enjoys showing off his creative creations that some of the computer games allow him to generate.  For one child, however, video games have an addicting effect.  Video / t.v. time limits must be enforced in our household because of this addict-like longing.  Despite knowing the draw that games like MarioCart and Wii Sports might have, I never would have fully predicted the hold that the gaming realm would have on my sweet pea.  And, if I could turn back time, I'm not sure I ever would have allowed the systems into our house.  Funny...I don't ever remember Pong having such a hold on me. 

 

While I could draw a TON of life lessons from this observation, I am not going to do so tonight.  I may at a later point, but I am far too tired right now.  Rather, I wanted to use that observation as a segue to something I found recently that made me laugh.  (By the way, I just learned that the word segue is spelled s.e.g.u.e., not s.e.g.w.a.y. - cool.)  A FB friend of mine posted a video by Julian Smith the other day and I got hooked into watching a number of his videos.  He is very creative and funny.  I must say, off the bat, however, that there is at least one character/sketch series (I have not viewed all of his videos) that I am NOT a fan of for a variety of reasons (Jeffrey).  But, many of his videos are witty and fun.  Some offer funny insights into issues of the day and the ridiculous things that we do.  This particular video falls into this category.  It made me (and my kids) laugh out loud.  Enjoy...

More for Less

Everything was going along swimmingly.  I got home from a decent day at work.  The kids were playing well together.  They chatted and giggled happily about who knows what.  Much to my children's delight, I announced that I would soon be making my infamous breakfast dinner.  Thus, with a little time to spare, I sat down for a little "me" moment, catching up on the day and others via my "social network" of choice.  (Actually, my social network of choice would have nothing to do with computers and everything to do with a face to face visit some place really comfy.)

And then it started.  Slowly, but surely, the picking began.  You know, honestly, I can't even recall what all the jabs were about or why they started.  But they came nonetheless.  Little knocks at one another, not necessarily all intentional, but causing frustration in one another...and causing resentment to build between one another. 
 

Can you imagine these guys ever fighting?  I hear the resounding "YES" from those who have seen it in action. Ha!


You know, I find it such a fine line - knowing when to step in and knowing when to let them work it out themselves.  Sometimes I know I jump in far too soon, while other times I probably let it go on a little too long.  It is, perhaps, a fine art...one which I have not mastered.  At any rate, one too many comments laced with a touch of poison and I jumped in with my own voice, raised louder than I intended.  Before I knew it, the peace of home had been misplaced, even if only momentarily, by the selfish intents of 3 little people and, perhaps, 1 larger person.

Thankfully, it wasn't too long before attitudes were adjusted, hearts were better aligned, and peace was generally restored.  I know that some of the change was due, in part, to the kids' desire to please their mama.  But I also know that much of the improvement was because they wanted to watch a movie after our pancake feast.  They knew that things needed to shape up if they wanted to earn this privilege.  Yet, I made sure that I talked through with them the impact of hurt feelings and broken relationships within a family.  I wanted apologies to be sincere and changes to be true.  "Sorry doesn't mean anything unless you try to change your behaviour", the broken record played.  However, I knew, at some level, that some of the improvement was based on the "first...then" principle. First you shape up and treat each other right. Then you get a movie night.  At it's core, I am doubtful that the change of heart was completely out of altruistic sibling love (if you have ever been there, I'm sure you are catchin' my drift)...and, at this stage of the game, I wouldn't expect it to be.

As my brain would have it, this little series of interactions led me to think something like this:  How we treat others when we have nothing to gain is the true measure how much we value the relationship and, in reality, who we are underneath.  Anyone can treat someone well if they think there is something to gain from it.  It takes character and integrity to consistently treat someone with respect, care, compassion, and dignity whether or not there is something to gain. 

As I started to write the last sentence, I almost wrote, "...whether or not there is something (other than relationship itself) to gain."  But then I realized that even expecting a relationship is an anticipation of something to gain, therefore, something for me. The way I treat complete strangers, simple acquaintances, and even those I will never meet face to face, speaks volumes about my character and the condition of my heart.

Just imagine if everyone treated each they encountered in a "do unto others, as you would have done unto you" sort of way, without the purpose of getting something in return.  What a radical idea!  Radical, perhaps, but certainly not new.  It was, in fact, Jesus who said "Do unto others as you would have them do to you" when he was giving his famous Sermon on the Mount.  And it was Paul (in Philippians 2) who said, "Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves. Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others."

I can only imagine the peace that would come if the world adopted those principles.  I can hope and pray for that kind of peace in my home, desiring that each of us (big and small) would adopt and daily live out those principles.  I know the peace and satisfaction I experience when I choose to do unto others in humility.  And, although I can't make my children do nothing out of selfish ambition, I can sure try to model it for them.  I can't make my co-workers treat one another and all students as they themselves would want to be treated, but I can try to live in such a way that others might see this lived out through me.  And, when I see these principles being displayed by a family member, a friend, a co-worker, or even a stranger, I can offer acknowledgement and encouragement for a moment well lived.

Food packing for Impact Lives in the fall.

I am far from perfect when it comes to consistently showing care and good treatment to others while expecting absolutely nothing in return.  My human nature longs for a little something...at least a crumb from the table...in return.  And yet, He's not finished with me yet.  Maybe one day I will get to the point where I altruistically give my all to others with no expectation of gain, but I kind of doubt it will happen this side of heaven...though wouldn't it be cool if it did!  In the meantime, step by step, I hope to move in this direction of giving more out of selfless ambition.  I long to leave a legacy of living in such a way, to the glory of God and for the benefit of others.  Only time will tell.

As I wrap up my writing, it is my pleasure to note that my children ended their night well. Mater's Tales was the film du jour and enjoyed by all.  Popcorn was the tasty treat.  Elly decided to have a sleep over in Ben's room, a fortnightly event in our home.  The kids are now fast asleep.  Peace reigns in the Castor home once again.

A foreshadow of the slumber party friendship these two would have...taken in the winter/spring of 2007

What kind of Friday?

Over the last few days, my mind keeps coming back to the name that was given to today.  Good Friday.  I can't imagine that anyone witnessing the events of this day would have considered it good.  Can you imagine the appalled look that would have come across the faces of Jesus's friends and family members if someone said, "you know, one of these days, we'll all look back and call this a good day"?

Can you imagine how Peter must have felt, knowing that, in the hours leading up to this day, he had repeatedly denied the one he repeatedly said he loved?  Can you imagine Mary, the mother of Jesus, watching helplessly as her son hung beaten and bloodied on the cross?  Can you imagine Joseph and Jesus's brothers, likely physically strong men (being carpenters), holding themselves back, knowing there was nothing they would be able to do?  Can you imagine all those people Jesus had healed in the previous 3 years, wondering how the one who had done so much for them was now in this place?  Can you imagine the bewilderment in the mind of the boy who had given Jesus 3 loaves and 5 fishes and watched him feed over 5000 people with it?  Can you imagine the heavy hearts of those called "sinners" and "unclean" (and far worse names, I'm sure) as they watched the man who accepted them and cared for them just as they were?  Can you imagine the sheer terror in that day?  I simply cannot imagine that, truly, to anyone that the day would have seemed "good".

I think that even those responsible for Jesus's death, zealous religious leaders and Roman political leaders, could not have really felt good on that day.  They knew that Jesus was not a criminal worthy of death.  They knew that He had not done anything wrong.  They were afraid of Him, of what He represented, and of how He could upset the order of things in their lives, but they could not substantiate death on a cross.  I imagine that a number of these men...and those that physically beat and hung Jesus that day...maintained an outward appearance of superiority and confidence in the decisions that lead to this moment.  Yet, I imagine that on the inside, many, if not all of these men, felt a sense of disgust, horror, and shame at the thought of what they had just done.  Like so many awkward villains portrayed in movies and television that know the error of their ways, but cannot seem to break out of the wrong doing that holds them captive.  Like Judas, the betrayer, I imagine others struggled with their own self worth and value after this "good" Friday.

Even Jesus on the cross, despite being fully God and fully man, likely, in that moment, would not have called anything about that day good.  He carried the weight of the world's sin on His shoulders as He hung in indescribable pain.  His lungs bared the weight of his unsupported body, held up only by the nails that held Him in place.  The physical pain perhaps paled in comparison to the emotional pain of it all.  He called out "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me!" revealing scripture / prophecy about himself (Psalm 22), but also in His agony and in His momentary separation from the Father.  Even the earth, bringing forth an earthquake, cried out in anguish.  The weight of the day was so far from good.

And yet, today.  Today, we know the amazing truth of the story that was unfolding on that horribly awful day.  Today, we know what happened three days later.  Today, we are aware that death on the cross, as wretched as it was, was a necessary part of a beautifully good plan.  Today, we can celebrate the fact that Jesus died so that we might live.  Jesus took the weight of our sin so that we would have forgiveness.   Today, we can look back and know that in an oxymoronic sort of way, it was indeed, a very good Friday.

A few days ago, my brilliant and handsome husband reflected on the goodness of today in his blog.  So, rather than going on and on myself, I will steal borrow his words to end this reflection.

A Very Good Friday (from kencastor.com)

Jesus came for the sick.
Jesus seeks after the lost.
Jesus searches for runaways.
Jesus finds the hidden.
Jesus heals the broken.
Jesus gives footing to the lame.
Jesus opens the closed ears of the deaf.
Jesus restores sight to the blind.
Jesus frees the prisoner.
Jesus has coffee with the prostitute.
Jesus loves the sinner.
Jesus forgives the repentant.
Jesus strengthens the weak.
Jesus fills the empty.
Jesus dwells with the lonely.
Jesus comforts the mourner.
Jesus weeps with the sad, the hurting, the grieved.
Jesus breathes into the lifeless.
Jesus lifts up the trampled.
Jesus gathers the displaced.
Jesus feeds the hungry.
Jesus quenches the thirsty.
Jesus puts the last at the front.
Jesus eats with the unsanitary.
Jesus dines with the despised.
Jesus carries our burdens.
Jesus dies for his enemies.
Jesus bleeds for his friends.
Jesus stretches out his arms for us.

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By the way, I posted this within less than a day of my last post.  So, if you didn't read that one yet, feel free to check that one out as well by clicking here.  And, as always, thank you for reading and feel free to add your thoughts or comments below. 

Afraid of the Dark

I was roughly 10 minutes from home when I got the call.  A panicked, quiet voice barely breaking through from the other side caused my heart to skip a beat and my thoughts to swirl.  

“Mom....I’m scared.  (brief pause)  I think there is someone in the house.”

“Okay...What do you mean, honey?” I asked, hoping not to lead the response in any particular direction.

I figured I would have received this call at least once by now, given that my eldest is having more frequent home alone time.  Nevertheless, it was still a call I hated to get.  Not because I actually was concerned that anything was going on, but because I knew the feeling that he was experiencing.   

I vividly remember some of the moments I spent on my own before my parents came home after work.  I recall once locking myself in my bathroom and calling my friend when I heard something unfamiliar.  (As if a burglar could not break through my hollow bathroom door.)   I was hoping my friend could talk me out of my momentary fear that someone must have made the noise I just heard.  And, I was hoping she could reassure me that everything was just fine.  It worked.  And, no, there were no cell phones way back then (I don’t even think we had a cordless).  But, for some unknown, but brilliant, reason, we had a phone outlet in our bathroom.  Maybe the previous owners also thought the bathroom was a good place to hideout or conduct important business.

My son’s call also brought to mind how I would run from light switch to light switch in order to get from upstairs to downstairs, or vice versa, at night.  As my energy conserving penny saving parents did not want us to leave un-necessary lights on, the unlit hallways appeared to grow longer as I contemplated how I would get from point A to point B without being consumed by the dark.  So, like any clever dark-fearing-girl might do, I ran from light switch to light switch, often singing or talking out loud along the way, flipping the switches on or off according to the direction I was headed.  Looking back, I'm sure this was quite the spectacle.

Why is it that so many of us are afraid of the dark?  Why is it that we can make the leap from a ticking sound of an expanding heat duct to ‘someone must hiding under the stairs’ so quickly?  Is it simply the fear of the unknown or something else?

While I am sure there are many different pieces to the fear puzzle, I am convinced that part of fear is related to aloneness or separation from those we care about.  Why do I think this?  Because of the way my son handled his fear and the ways I often handle my fears.   When my son thought someone might be in the house, he almost immediately called me – for guidance, for support, for help, and, ultimately, for connection.  My hunch is that he knew no one was there, but he longed for reassurance and relationship.   When I was afraid as a kid, cowering in the bathroom, I called out to a friend for the same reasons.  I knew she couldn’t come help me (we were far too young to drive), but I knew she would listen and share connection.  Talking and singing out loud in my light switch running was, in addition to being a little silly, a subconscious attempt to communicate with someone...to feel not so alone in the dark.  Even today, when I have a moment of fear or anxiety, my desire is to reach out and connect to someone that I know cares about me.  

We all long for connection.  For relationship.  For intimacy.  It’s the way we were designed.  From the outset of the world, we were made to be in relationship - first with God and then with others.  The Genesis creation story shouts this out.  After all the amazing work God did in creating the stuff of the world...all of which He called “good”...He desired something more.  So, before He decided to rest, God made people in His own image.  In the garden, he created Adam to walk with, talk with, invest in, and share relationship with uniquely...and it was "very good".  It was so good that God decided to allow Adam the pleasure of this relationship with Eve as well.  And so it began...our desire to connect with others was created within us.  And, this relational desire will always be a part of who we are as human beings.

When I got home a few minutes after receiving the call, my son sat alone on his bed, even though his brother had come home in the meantime.  His little brother, though he tried, could not offer him the kind of connection that he needed in the moment.  It didn’t take long, however, to talk him down from his level of heightened alarm and fear.   We determined that the wind was causing the garage door to make an unusual noise.  I was glad that a combination of rational thinking and loving relationship moved him beyond being stuck. 

I half expected the call to come again yesterday or today.  It didn’t.  But, if it did, I hope I would have been ready to listen, to reason, and, most importantly, to simply be in relationship with my son. 

Afraid of the Dark - Shel Silverstein

I’m Reginald Clark, I’m afraid of the dark

So I always insist on the light on,

And my teddy to hug,

And my blanket to rub,

And my thumby to suck or to bite on.

And three bedtime stories,

Two trips to the toilet,

Two prayers, and five hugs from my mommy,

I’m Reginald Clark, I’m afraid from the dark

So please do not close this book on me.