Sisterly Connections

I am laying awake (when I should be sleeping), wondering how many places I have referenced "Wonder Chemist".

Annnnd, as means of an update, failing miserably.

Let me explain where this is coming from. Last week, I met up with my sister for coffee. Albeit, we share no common genes, bodily fluids (aka, we are not blood sisters), or similar dreams and aspirations. However, on various occasions, as sisters do, we have fought with one another, ignored one another, screamed about (not to, but about) one another, cried with, for and because of one another; we have pouted about one another, tattled on one another, envied the other, and wanted to punch, kick or otherwise seriously injure one another.

But in the same breath, I can only speak for myself here, I would never (ever) want to live a life without the other. We have seen each other at our worsts and still manage to sit on the sidelines of one another's lives to cheer, encourage, and motivate.

Anyway, contrary to what her family members would have done, she trudged over to a small coffee shop after her long day to catch up. Maybe next time, I'll let her pick the place because it never fails that I suggest tea/coffee, neglecting the fact that she does not drink hot liquids. Ever.

We sat there for what seemed like a few moments and caught up on one another's lives before she had to run off to get a ride home and I had to dash off to a meeting elsewhere. I know it seems weird, but for the first time in a year and a half, I almost felt human again. She did not have a gun or want to push me into oncoming traffic; she even hugged me when we parted ways.

The next afternoon, I got a text asking if she would see me at Taize with my guitar. I kid you not, every excuse that I pulled out, there was a logical, well thought out response. And, being politely persistent, sure enough - Sunday afternoon, I got a text simply stating what time she would be there to run through the song selection. Before I could really comment, she told me that whatever happened or whoever came, she had my back (so long as I didn't pick a fight with a nationally renowned body builder).

Showed up, played, and tried to pack up and leave in silence.

About 10 minutes down the road, en route home, she texted. "Was it as bad as you thought it was going to be?"

"Yes, but in a different way than I expected"

"Explain?"

.... I will save the boring details of the conversation in the middle. It was what came at the end that means the most. Essentially, I told her that my heart was crying. I am pretty sure it was crying the words, "I want to come home". It was not referring to returning home to the white house with green trim, but a different kind of home. Whatever I tried to do, my heart would not cease it's tears. Most painful drive of all time.

And, although I wouldn't have predicted it, my sister got it.

So, I asked straight up - how do I make it stop hurting?

And this - in all her wisdom, is what she said.

"You don't. You let yourself heal. You understand that you've now taken the first step in getting back to what's important in your life. And, you stop pushing and stop running away."

Needless to say, her words resonate in an incredibly powerful fashion. And, tonight - keep me laying awake wondering, pondering, wishing. How did this blog get started? Oh yea! Because when we met for coffee, she inquired about the status of Wonder Chemist and I. Which got me thinking... have I called him Wonder Chemist outside of the blog? Hmmm...

I am told all too often that I speak in some bizarre type of code. And, I admit - that more often than not, I am tied up in speaking through metaphors or random hypothetical situations. While watching re-runs of an all-time favourite show this afternoon on Youtube, this poem was referenced and when I look up the poem, was astonished at how "perfect" it was in describing the human condition (as I see it). And so, I post it here... not to frustrate people, but to express it as it is.

O Capitan, My Capitan!

O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills;
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head;
It is some dream that on the deck,
You’ve fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won;
Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

Walt Whitman

A few thoughts

So, as means of an update, this whole convocation thing is really throwing a wrench into the plan of continuing to believe that it's "just a piece of paper". There are a few people who were crucial in ensuring that I finished this journey - and none of which are going to be here for the "big" day. Let's see... one of them has purple duties in a small country down under, one of them has purple duties in the city nearby, and two of them live virtually, across the country. At the end of the day, I continue to tell myself that it is not a big deal and it is *just* a piece of paper. An expensive one, no doubt, but it is simply a symbol.

I am reminded of an evening in which I tried to teach the concept of a symbol to a group of youth who were preparing for a sacrament within the church. My definition has always been pretty traditional in that a symbol is a sign; a symbol points us to something bigger, more inspirational, and often, a lot more meaningful.

We were talking about what symbols were - how roadsigns symbolized a significant traffic condition (high fatality location, slippery surface when wet/cold, oncoming traffic, one way, etc) and how the sacrament we were about to celebrate together was very much representative of something more meaningful and powerful in their faith journey than simply a loaf of bread being passed around.

On that note, I totally understand how this whole whoopla is symbolizing something greater, buuuuuut, that doesn't change the fact that it stinks. Like a rotten egg would in warm sunshine.

And, before I leave to conquer the day and change the world, although the people I wish to say this to the most will probably never read it (or not read it for a very long time), I shall say it anyway.

"If every word I said

Could make you laugh,

I'd talk forever.

If the song I sing to you

Could fill your heart with joy

I'd sing forever."

(Beach Boys, Forever)

Annnnd to that, I would add,

If every prayer I prayed

Could make you stronger,

I'd pray forever.

If every thought I had

Could ease your pain,

I'd think forever

If every time I wrote

Could close the gap we had,

I'd write forever.

That's all.