Sometimes I Write

I dropped Zoe off at a birthday party this afternoon and decided I needed to find somewhere fun to eat.  Our family is beginning a healing diet tomorrow so I wanted something that I wouldn’t be eating for awhile – if ever again.  The heavens opened up and a ray of sunshine bathed Panera in a soft glow.  O.K.  It was the only non-fast food I could find since I was in an unfamiliar part of Denver.  The plan was to eat while reading my book, then hit the local library book outlet across the street.  I had two kid-free hours to enjoy.  But plans change.

As I stood there deliberating between the Turkey Panini and the Cheddar Broccoli soup, a friendly, well dressed, red-headed woman joined the line behind me.  She commented on not knowing what to order.  I assumed she was talking to me since the cashier had stepped away for a minute and we were the only two standing there.  So I replied back that it was indeed hard to choose from such a broad variety of soups and sandwiches.  I ordered, paid, and waited for my food while sipping an iced chai.  (I’m going to miss those!)

I assume I’m in the minority of people who like to occasionally dine alone since most of the time, you see people eating in couples or groups.  I don’t mind the quiet time to myself, and it sort of ticks me off when wait staff act like that’s just weird and sad to be dining alone…anyway…

I found a seat and began organizing my food. (Stop laughing – yes I organize that too.)  I noticed the lady that had been behind me in line was looking for a place to sit alone too.  My first instinct was to get her attention and ask her to join me, but I stopped myself.  I’m observant when I choose to be and my inner Sherlock Holmes kicked in.  She wasn’t in a hurry – she was dining in.  She had no wedding band which most likely meant she was either single, divorced, or widowed.  She didn’t look like a serial killer, though she may have wondered about me when I finally decided to walk over and ask her if she’d like to join me.  She stared at me for a minute – maybe letting her inner Sherlock process the invitation.   I said, “Excuse me, would you like to join me for lunch?”  She stared and said, “Um” while looking confused.  I was a complete stranger after all.  “I just noticed that you and I are both dining alone and thought maybe a little conversation would be nice.”  She thought about that for a second and said, “I guess that would be o.k.” and came to join me at my table.

An hour later we were exchanging phone numbers and email addresses and talking about the possibility of meeting for lunch again in the future.  We agreed that we don’t believe in chance, and that it had been a pleasant way to spend an hour.  I look forward to seeing Sandy again and getting to know her better.  I have a new friend because I chose to step out of my comfort zone and ask a stranger to have lunch with me.

As I was driving to pick Zoe up, I thought about courage and what I had done.  It struck me that it wasn’t so different than what we do with our street kids and yet I was more nervous asking Sandy to lunch.  Then I thought about Dana.  He was one of Benny’s roommates in college.  He was at home in York, PA and hanging out at the mall, sitting on a bench when Dr. Roberts, the President of our college at the time, sat down beside him .  They struck up a conversation, and that’s how Dana came to York College…in Nebraska.  An invitation from a random stranger.  Because of that conversation he now has a beautiful wife and daughters, good friends all over the country, and we had the honor of him being a groomsmen in our wedding.

I enjoyed having lunch with a stranger today.  Who knows what friends are waiting for me out there?

I’m often amused by the bumper stickers I see plastered on cars of all shapes and colors.  And there’s hardly ever just one, after all, how do you narrow down your thoughts and ideologies into a single sentence?  I guess Facebook and Twitter are good practice for that.  I find stickers far more entertaining than church signs, but I get wary of the negativity of them both. Maybe I’m looking for something to make me laugh or at least smile instead of something that insults me or makes me roll my eyes in disgust.

While sitting at a red light yesterday, I saw one that made me think.  It read, “Some days all I want to be is a missing person.”    Now, we can all relate to that, can’t we?  Life is demanding and an uphill haul.  We have people, activities, and commitments pulling at us from every direction and we’re screaming on the inside to be left alone for just one minute so we can think straight.  “Relax” isn’t a normal word in our vocabulary, and we feel like we’re not enough, can’t do enough, and can’t be enough to be satisfactory.  It’s overwhelming.  Being a missing person, or at least absent from the rat race, sounds so appealing to some of us.

What if the bumper sticker had read, “Some days I feel like I am a missing person.”  That changes things a bit.  Maybe these are people who wish they had so much happening in their lives they would be stressed about slowing down and having some breathing room.  Are missing people actively sought after?  Maybe by their loved ones, or the people who are paid to find them, but by the general public?  Probably not.  Every time I walk into WalMart I scan the missing persons board, but that’s usually about as far as my actions take me.  Honestly, I’m looking to see if any of my friends on the streets are up there.

My life is so busy that I don’t take up the cause of “missing people” except for the ones that are already in my life.  I have a few of those.  I’m sure you do too.  They’re the lonely people who aren’t being sought after by their families, don’t have many friends, and are feeling unloved.  Depression and self-medication are commonplace.  If they had a bumper sticker on their car, it would read, “Life sucks, then you die.”  And what am I doing about it?  Am I loving these people?  Am I meeting them right where they are at or am I demanding they become more like me first?  That is one of those hard questions I ask myself on a regular basis. And while that’s an easy description of our friends on the streets, I’m not talking about them.  I’m talking about the people in my church, my neighborhood, my Friday school group, and my circle of friends.

Maybe I’m taking this whole bumper sticker thing way too seriously.  Maybe I’m not.  Maybe wisdom shows up in unexpected places and I have to just go with it.  If you were to create a sticker that would describe your thoughts and ideologies FOR TODAY, what would yours say? I think mine would say, “Life is in the questions.”  There’s more to this…

This was my 2008:

This is going to be my 2009:

My 3 days has turned into 8.  Long story.  I have gotten some rest, I’ve definitely relaxed, and the girly food has been nice too.  But I was wrong…though my time away has indeed been healing, it hasn’t been so sweet.  It’s been excruciating and hard.  There’ve been lots of tears – not that me having tears would surprise anyone.  Not all healing feels “sweet”.  I’m strong and determined to not skip over any part of the process, so I continue…

My husband is amazing!  He is not only allowing me, but encouraging me to keep moving through this time of processing while he is home keeping everything running smoothly.  I’ll be back home in a few days.  I’m borrowing a library computer to write this little note, and my time is almost up, so…

Please keep praying for me and sending me mental sunshine. 🙂  And for those of you who were wondering, “girly food” is stuff like mini quiches, muffins, pasta salads, crackers w/ Orange Cranberry cream cheese spread, croissants w/ chicken salad, etc.  Stuff you wouldn’t hear of men eating if they were on a retreat. 🙂  I shouldn’t generalize here.  I have plenty of male friends who like those things.  I’m just not the “fresh fish from the mountain stream cooked over an open flame” kind of gal. 🙂  Give me girly food anyday.