Blessed Are the Hearts That Can Bend…
They can never be broken.
- Albert Camus
It feels like I’m just getting back from Ethiopia, yet it’s been a couple of weeks since I landed at Dulles Airport and did the four hour drive back home to New York. Since I’ve been back it feels like so much has gone on and yet so much feels the same.
I am different. But only in the way that you know on the inside. It’s hard to explain, but I came back feeling more alive in a lot of ways and more resigned to cut out a lot of what hasn’t worked. As soon as I had unpacked my suitcases, I had to start packing A’s so we could take her back to campus. We didn’t get enough time together and now that she’s been without her phone while we waited for a part to be ordered (it finally arrived this past Friday!), we’ve had to resort to emails and twitter to stay in touch. It’s not really so bad because we’re finding interesting ways to say a lot in 140 characters.
I’m deferring my marathon entry until next year. I was just about to log in to NYRR when I started to type this post out. I have to travel a lot next month for work – and as much as I’ve been out running, I’m not in a groove – it feels like it’s just going to be better to pick a shorter race (Poland Spring, anyone?) and spend more time training for next year. I’d rather a deferment than a DNF. At least this time.
I’ve been reading all of the news happening in Syria. What many Americans don’t get to see are the estimated two million refugees who have no place to go during this crisis. I am not a fan of war, but I am a big believer in the role of the United Nations and the citizens of the world when it comes to stopping violence from happening anywhere it occurs. Sometimes I think I am too naïve when it comes to why we pick certain places to protect while ignoring others. Although the truth is less clear – I’m always hopeful that people will do the right thing when given the chance to take care of others.
And that brings me to the closing of this post – I spent 17 hours on my flight back from Ethiopia with the most interesting person. I sat next to him by accident (or not) since I had asked to move my seat right before we all boarded. He’s a pastor and as much as I try to block out all religious conversations (usually), I couldn’t block out what we talked about over our flight home. We had an exchange this week and I joked about not being able to get on a plane to leave New York without some kind of craziness happening.
He said God is talking to me. He’s asking me to slow down. Take a step back. Allow those who drift in a place and allow those who drift away, or have drifted out before, to be gone for good. A season and a reason and all of that. I’ve resisted that for a long time. I told myself that if you say you love someone or you want to be there for them, you have to stand by that. The reality is that I just don’t believe that anymore. Now, I’ve learned that the people who care to really listen to you when you’re silent are the ones you have to hold close to you. The rest have to be allowed to drift to where they are happiest.
All of this in three weeks. That’s a lot. I’m not complaining. Just noticing the calendar. Happy Saturday and to all of my friends who observe Yom Kippur, Gmar Chatimah Tovah .