My extended family is, well, quite extensive. I come from several pretty long lines of pretty amazing people. And I say that with absolutely no bias what-so-ever. :) This past August, I lost one of my beloved aunts after a lengthy battle with cancer. Her name was Kate, and she was my father's youngest sister. Even as a child, she was the kind of person who went out of her way for others. I have heard stories of her coming home from school, baking cookies, and handing them out to local homeless people. She was the person who would double back on a crowded freeway in a snow storm on Christmas Eve to help complete strangers. Even while battling her own illness, she was the embodiment of the Prayer of St. Francis:
Oh, Master,While saying my last goodbyes to Kate, I had the opportunity to see how her kindnesses were returned to her ten-fold. One of the things Aunt Kate did as she faced her own mortality was to gather a group of like-minded women for regular meetings during which they would talk about life, family, spirituality, and all the other things that are important. They called themselves the Sophia Sisters (sophia being the Greek word for wisdom), and Kate's sisters were there for her though everything. This group of women (along with their families) made sure Kate and her family had hot meals, renovated her kitchen, and made sure the planters on the front stoop were filled with beautiful flowers to greet her many visitors.
grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console;
to be understood, as to understand;
to be loved, as to love;
for it is in giving that we receive,
Although I learned a remarkable number of things during that difficult week, there was one thing I couldn't stop thinking about. Kate was surrounded by love during her most trying times for two very important reasons:
1. She cared openly about the individuals she came across on a daily basis. She wasn't afraid to wear her heart right out on her sleeve. She didn't shy away from the risks involved in relationships.
2. She made an intentional effort to strengthen the connections she had made. She took the time to reach out.
Upon returning home, I couldn't stop thinking about Kate and the way she lived her life. I have never been good at socializing. Although my close friends might describe me as gregarious, I am painfully uncomfortable around people until I get to know them. I enjoy talking on the phone, but hate making phone calls because I am sure that my call is interrupting something more important. I tend to wait for others to reach out to me, whether to begin a relationship or to maintain it. Genetically, I am predisposed to live "in the moment". Like my father, my mother, and much of my extended family, I tend to forget about holidays and important events until they are happening. Even though I am often thinking of my family, I fail to follow through on providing evidence (sending cards, making phone calls, etc) of such thoughts on a regular basis.
Because of these traits, it has always taken me a long time to develop meaningful relationships. The connections I manage to make are often woefully neglected whenever distance becomes involved. Although I would count just about all of the 70-some students who went to high school with me as "friends", there were only a handful who knew the real me, and I haven't seen a single one of them in almost 15 years. In 4 years of college, I managed to cultivate exactly ONE lasting friendship (and even that was only renewed recently thanks to FaceBook). I have lived in the Temecula area for nearly a decade, and until this past year I could count the people who had made it past the "acquaintance" stage on one hand. I would watch movies about friendships that spanned lifetimes and wish that I could be so lucky. I longed to belong to a group with all my heart and eagerly awaited the day when that group would magically appear.
Watching Kate's Sophia Sisters come together for Kate and family, I realized that I was waiting for something that wasn't going to just happen. The beautiful, meaningful relationships that surrounded her and supported her weren't the result of sitting around wishing for something to happen. Kate built them, slowly and carefully, just as her father, a carpenter, built spiral staircases. With empathy and honesty as her hammer and nail, she could turn the briefest of encounters into a lasting friendship. If I wanted to have what Kate had, I was going to have to pick up my own tools and put them to use.
I have challenged myself to consciously create more meaningful connections to those in my life. One way I am doing this is by working harder to recognize important events in the lives of others. I am trying to send birthday cards on time, make phone calls more regularly, and provide tangible evidence of my feelings for friends and family. The other thing I did was to call up some of the wonderful women I am surrounded by and create my own Sophia Sisters group. We meet on a monthly basis with the intention of create a support system for ourselves while collectively working to support the less fortunate our community. These intentional efforts at empathy and openness are already paying off. As I am honest and caring with those I meet, others are becoming more honest and caring toward me.
I'm going to wrap this up now, because I know that I am rambling... My thoughts on this topic tumble over one another like puppies outgrowing their birthing box, and consequently my words do the same. I could save this and put it away in the draft folder to revisit another day, but I am more interested in getting my thoughts out than in making them perfect. So, I will resist the urge to re-read this yet another time. Instead I will leave you with a message that came to me via a student this evening and seems to fit the mood of this post perfectly:
And you O my soul where you stand,
Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space,
Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing, seeking the spheres to connect them,
Till the bridge you will need be formed, till the ductile anchor hold,
Till the gossamer thread you fling catch somewhere, O my soul.
~ A Noiseless Patient Spider, by Walt Whitman
2 comments:
Marvelous!
I agree!
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