fifty

i think i figured it out. why being a teenager and a twenty-something is so magical.

earlier this week i was sitting on the couch next to mike. we were looking up flight information for our guest on my computer. he was right there, next to me, leaning in, his arm brushing on mine- close enough to kiss.  i was distracted by him, by the moment, by the potential in the ordinary. i wanted it to last, to hold on to this intimacy of proximity and love and attraction, that we so easily forget about.  i thought about these moments in the past- our past- how we can take things for granted when we live life together and sit next to each other all the time, and sleep with each other every night.

that time on the couch i was brought back to being 17, when the childhood ability to be completely in the present, in the now, in that moment- is still there.  it has not been buried beneath the busy.  it hasn't been lost in the distraction and multitasking and crazy of full adulthood.  the feelings and sensations are new.  they are soaked in, held, cherished.  we notice and value the heat of the arm resting on ours, the edge of the reservoir water on our bare skin, the possibilities.  life hasn't been packaged yet. 

is that what we crave at 40? do we crave the newness or just the ability to linger into moments that we fear we've lost? can we unbox our lives? unwrap them just a little?  can we sacrifice efficiency for attention, and accomplish a little less in our day- but be reminded of what we loved about being 17?  can we slow it down consciously and feel it again?  what if we tried to savor a moment of sharing something as small as our computer screen? what if we spent our energy there, instead of looking for another package?

the 50 shades of grey trilogy has been holding the top three slots on the new york times best seller list for 6 months.  why? because the writing is so good? not.  because secretly we are all into s+m? no.  because women want a super hot, filthy rich guy who verbally expresses his love and attraction, and also needs some fixing? probably.  but also we escape into the newness of love- we remember those moments that stretch on and on when you're 21 and life hasn't become too serious yet.  we love the awareness they have of each other, the attention paid to the details of each other.  the full on focus. 

when i sat on that couch with this man i've loved for 24 years- i allowed myself to be right there with him, to stop and take notice- like i used to before years and complications were added- i gave myself permission to be momentarily undone.  to care more about his presence right there, than i did about the information we were collecting on the screen. and there is something life giving in regarding the details of the moments in our lives.

we should take time to savor things we love and have loved.  because i think we can.  we can choose to slow it down, to dissemble the years, and bend the edges of our box, awaken the senses and enjoy the layers of our moments, and the shades of the ones we've loved long.

bliss

i like this word.  it goes on my favorite word list.  i like the way it looks, the way it sounds, the way it rolls out of your mouth when you say it, and that it rhymes with kiss, and the meaning it holds. 

perfect happiness, great joy. 

it doesn't come often, and it doesn't usually stay too long, but today i felt it.  i woke up to an already risen sun, birds loudly singing, chirping, cawing, the world in full swing.  i could see out the sliver between our curtains, bright yellow and pink flowers and long stringy red- dr. seuss-like flowers and light pink and white prickly looking flowers and i felt that feeling.  bliss. 

last night we'd gone out with our good friends here to a fabulous italian restaurant- sat outdoors and laughed and talked and relaxed.  we came home to electricity and children asleep and a terrific babysitter who also happens to love working with special needs kids and will be helping zoe several hours a week.  i felt, as i drifted off to sleep and woke this morning, bliss.  i felt the provision of God in abundance.  needs met above and beyond what we've asked or imagined. 

and bliss is a feeling that i associate even more with childhood (thanks mom and dad).  a feeling that all was well- a feeling of no worries- a feeling that the world could generally be trusted, that i could explore it, that there were things to be discovered and understood, fun to be had, a feeling that was full of security, safety and hope.

fridays in atlanta were my work day.  my day to not home-school zoe.  my day to put on my other hat, or in my case- my white coat.  my day to care for people unrelated to me, and in doing that- i gained great perspective.  more often than not i was inspired, grateful and refreshed. the fridays helped me put the other six days into place. 

fridays in uganda have become special too.  fridays are our orphanage day- zoe and i.  a day for her and for me to help outside of our selves- to be reminded, to be thankful for all that we have, to see a different reality- to alter our daily perspective.  but i don't leave inspired or refreshed.  i sometimes leave exhausted and burdened and sad. 

in atlanta, i did palliative care.  i took care of patients who were nearing the end of life- who were sick and not going to recover.  and while that could be exhausting and sad- the difference is that i could help them feel better, and they were adults.  the difference is that we are all going to die, we are all going to get sick. and even thought it's sad and hard and i'm not trying minimize that, , it is a natural part of life.  but, being abandoned in the trash as an infant- should not be a natural part of life.  being found by the police on the streets of the city, unable to walk anymore because of severe malnutrition, should not be.  it just hurts my heart. 

so i leave and my burdened parts ache, and i cry a little on the way home, how can these little ones know that feeling of bliss?  do they now, at least in the orphanage where they will be fed (something)?  but what about trust in the world?  what about hope?   and in typical american fashion- i try to manage this by ruminating on 'what can we do?'  what is our action plan?  what is our response?  is it enough to go and play with these children for a few hours once a week?

yesterday, i was tempted, for a moment, to close my eyes.  to choose not to look anymore.  to go about my business- because in theory, i can.  i can say it's too much for zoe.  i can say it's too far to drive.  i can say it's not really educational (ha).  but i can't.  because God loves those children.  because God has a plan for each of them.  because i am to be His arms, His hands, His feet on this earth. because holding someone for a few hours on friday might not change the world, but it's a ripple.  because sacrificing a little on my end to buy diapers, or formula or medication or books, is another ripple.  because i have a voice and know people who will listen and have the means to respond.  and maybe all these little things will add up to a big thing- a current- and then perhaps the hope will come, and maybe then- those moments, even if they are little slivers of moments- of bliss. 


"It is from numberless diverse acts of courage and belief that human history is shaped. Each time a man stands up for an ideal, or acts to improve the lot of others, or strikes out against injustice, he sends forth a tiny ripple of hope, and crossing each other from a million different centers of energy and daring, those ripples build a current that can sweep down the mightiest walls of oppression and resistance. "  Robert Kennedy - quote about south africa