It seems like a thousand lifetimes since I sat down in front of this screen to write. It also feels like yesterday. Isn’t that how life goes? It fleets and it flies, it lingers and dawdles. Always in tension. I need to tell you… I’ve missed you, friend. I miss the words I leave; the ones you take. I miss you responding in authentic rawness, reciprocating all the feelings I just spewed. I also miss your silence; knowing you read, because you told me so, but you didn’t resonate and so you remained silent, so as not to rustle my insecure feathers. I miss you extra, friend. I like your compliance to the unspoken rules of the “let there be peace even when I think you’re insane” club. Thanks for that. I want to tell you things. I want to sit with you over fifty-four mugs of coffee (only the cute mugs) so that we truly get one another. I’m pretty sure if you’ve journeyed with me this far, you get me a little, but I want to get you, too. Are we similar? Are we opposites? Are we Anne of Green Gables style bosom friends and kindred spirits? If so, how can we be best friends asap? No matter where you and I fall on the <friends of life> spectrum, I want to tell you things. Let me start here…and then you respond and tell me about your current state, capiche? (If you speak “Uncle Jesse”, we are bosom friends already.)
This year has been for growing and exploring, and for understanding who I do and do not want to be. Because I am a list-making fool, here ya go:
- g e n u i n e : do this loudly. Do it in spite of the people who may think your genuineness is equivalent to stupidity or weakness. Just be you.
- Lovely: be pleasant. Because there’s no reason not to be. People deserve kindness. They crave it. Feed the people loveliness.
- Mama: the bear cubs need me to be this. Even on the days when I don’t feel it. Even on the days when I want to runaway. Just keep pouring the milk, handing the snacks, kissing the wounds. Even though it’s the most nauseating cliché, I will miss these days. Be the mama.
- Daughter of the one, true, living God: this is the cry of my heart. The thing that my bones proclaim when my heart attempts to fail. I am His. For all of time, I am His. Hallelujah, amen.
Not to be:
- Someone else: on the days when I don’t like me, this is oh-so-tempting. But I am me, and you are you, and if we tried to be one another, the world would be confused and fickle.
- The worst version of me: to avoid this requires stillness and surrender, prayer and wisdom. Left alone, I am scary, y’all. I need a whole lot of Jesus and a lot less of Jo.
- Weird: dear Jesus, let me never be the ignorant, arrogant, unrelatable follower of You that people run from. Aaaaaah. Amen.
- Lazy: Less lazy: doable.
Friend, I sincerely like you. I hope that your “to be” and “not to be” lists at least include the word genuine. If so, we are bosom friends. Here’s to longing for authenticity, and for finding our places in this great big, miniature world. (And for writing blog posts once ever four months…ahem.)