balm: Spring and community

I don't know what it is -- winter blues, legitimate stuff we've had going on, or (likely) a combination thereof -- but the past two winters I've just felt...bludgeoned(?) by the time I reach the end of February or start of March. (Think: playing in quidditch, got-knocked-out-by-a-bludger, level of exhaustion.)

As I look back to the past two winters, I try to sort and name the challenges that have made the seasons feel so long and heavyboots. In January of 2015 I was trying to navigate re-entering the workforce after having a baby, plus helping my brother grapple with some serious mental health issues. This past year was less -- but I think the pregnancy knocked me out in a way I hadn't anticipated, and we continued to have weeks where we felt overwhelmed by the demands of caregiving.

When I think of both seasons and how we made it through, I think of the meals that flowed in when I finally had to collapse into the arms of our community. I am so thankful for those who have carried us -- my aunt, Selena, my grandparents, and my Mom's legion of friends. This past year we have plugged into a wonderful faith community and they have given me the space to be honest and vulnerable about some of these challenges, and have responded with generosity and kindness during the bleaker weeks. It has pulled me through,

On a related note, I am currently being drawn back to the other side of the support process. I have a friend who is currently going through 'a total shit time.' (Think: that scene in love actually when Emma Thompson is consoling a mourning Liam Neeson about his recently departed wife. I always feel like that bluntness best captures these terrible and ghastly seasons of life that we sometimes must painfully stand by and watch our friends weather.)

As our friend group has tried to figure out how to rally around said friend and envelope her in messages of love and support, I've been drawn to these things. First, an Op-Ed by David Brooks -- The Art of Presence. This is really sound advice (although not novel or the first time it's been shared). But I think it's the most helpful -- for what Charlie and I have needed in caregiving in past years, and  as a reminder of how I can strive to help others in mourning, sickness and loss.

I'd say what these experiences call for is a sort of passive activism. We have a tendency, especially in an achievement-oriented culture, to want to solve problems and repair brokenness - to propose, plan, fix, interpret, explain and solve. But what seems to be needed here is the art of presence - to perform tasks without trying to control or alter the elemental situation... Sit simply through moments of pain and uncomfortable darkness. Be practical, mundane, simple and direct.

And secondly, I've been lifting up this song/prayer. My hope is that any of you who read this and are in a season where you are supporting a struggling friend, or in need of support yourself, find some comfort in some of these words.

My friend is worn and torn, he's badly wounded
I don't know what he really needs
Bring hope to his heart, relief to his mind
Bring hope to his heart, relief to his mind

He lives for love of what he knows
But he cannot put his trust in much anymore
Bring hope to his heart, relief to his mind
Bring hope to his heart, relief to his mind

Keep my friend safe, strengthen his eyes
The night has been long but the dawn is sure to be fine
Bring hope to his heart, relief to his mind
Bring hope to his heart, relief to his mind