Tuesday, May 20, 2014

we are still


Old, dear friends came to visit this weekend. We cut-up fruit and went to the zoo and were in by seven every evening, just life with kids, but life with friends and lots of kids which is glorious. I knew Tana in Haiti, and now our families are friends too and there is so much I love about this.

There are many things I could write here- like how difficult it can be to maintain friendships after children, but how important they are, and something about how to make new friends and keep the old when you only have about six and a half unscheduled minutes per week as it is, and even though we say relationships are the most important thing, there are all of these other urgent things which tend to claim our attention because they are right there in front of us.

But this is the main thing: there is something about the friends you had before children. Before marriage. The friends who knew you when you were idealistic and spontaneous and could stay up all night, when you believed in living passionately and questioning everything and being a part of something world changing.

There is something about the friends who knew you when you were maybe the you-est you ever were. 

This is why I love these friends, the friends I first knew more than a decade ago and haven't seen enough since- because when we are together I realize we haven't stopped. That person we were then- we are still.


So there are limitations now. So now we live in the suburbs with a minivan and an expired passport. We haven't changed the world- we've found we can barely change ourselves. So all of us have failed to match our dream of perfection. (Faulkner

We still are dreaming. We still want to live a meaningful life. We still question and hope and believe, maybe a bit more judiciously but no less earnestly. We'd still like to go somewhere, anywhere, whatever; we still believe in radical discipleship. And we are making peace with the call to the holy ordinary too.


The heart is the same, only stretched. The conversations are the same but gentler, and left open-ended. There is less adventure but more attention. Less launch and more patience having her perfect work. We carry more luggage now than we ever did, but we've learned to let go of more. Experience has sobered us but life has softened us; laughter has worn lines by now.

3 comments:

Tana said...

Wow! You are a great writer, my friend. That could not have been better said. Thank you for the fabulous visit. I miss you all already!

Jessica Stock said...

Tana, me too! Let's be neighbors!

Tana said...

I couldn't agree more!!!