bricks and mortar

Between rainy afternoons, fostering the best pair of golden retrievers on the planet, two 12 hour work days, and even a little bit of snow, I managed to find time for three mid-distance runs this week, all of which were the perfect mix of speed, distance, and sunshine.  Ending with the Cow Paddy Run on Friday evening at Gulley Park, I went into the weekend a bit cranky that I wouldn’t have time for a long run because of school on Saturday, but still pleased from being able to do what makes me whole.  But as great as those three runs were, none were as fulfilling as multiple unexpected conversations that I had with some of the people that make my life so very sweet.

Sometimes life can be so serendipitous, seemingly placing us in the right place at the right time.  It might not be obvious to us at the onset, but we soon realize that chance encounters can be so much more, and that stopping to take time with a friend might be just what they need.  Though each instance was different, ranging from catching up with the person that got me through my very first 10K years ago, to learning much more about the background of a student, to helping an otherwise really strong woman find solace where it doesn’t seem to exist, to laughing with a great group of colleagues over raw oysters and cold beer, they all shared the common bond of human connection.  I’m convinced that when all the layers are peeled back, when the labels are dropped, we are all the same people and we want the same thing:  to be loved and feel a sense of belongingness.  

But these chance conversations that started so innocuously, so benign, didn’t only produce growth on one side, because I walked away from each one feeling a sense of clarity that can only be experienced when two humans connect with sincerity, friendship, and care.  They left me in a better place than where I was, reminding me to be grateful that my forty years on this earth have been filled with grace and love.  That’s something that I haven’t always remembered, but it’s also something that can be so beautifully evident in the most random of moments.

From very early on in life, in many ways i’ve lived behind a wall.  It served to protect and shield when shame and fear seemed to be too much.  Brick by brick with layers of mortar, I sheltered myself inside, allowing people to know only a fraction of the world that I knew.  Information was a weapon that could be used, so I kept guard at all times, ready to pretend or deflect.  Building the wall was exhausting, and even though it’s much smaller today than it was when I was a kid, I’m still very much aware of it’s presence in my life.  I still find myself being guarded toward even the closest of friends, and meeting new people is tough, always leading to the same assumption of waiting for judgement to be rendered.  The wall gets built again.

I know that things are so much better for me than when I was a kid, but old experiences and feelings die hard and some things, some words, are etched in my memory permanently.  Stronger, though, are the thousands of fibers that connect us all, woven with love and understanding.  They define us as human beings, and this week they seemed to happen in spades, blessing my life without even asking.  Each interaction so brilliantly reminded of that over and over again, and i’m thankful for it.

  

The final reminder happened just a few hours ago, when I ran into my sister, whom I love dearly, while she was picking up my nephew Charles.  He bounded up to me with the sweetest little grin on his face, jumping into my arms and rubbing my back in the midst of a hug.  I closed my eyes and fought back tears, happy that his days are full of energy, snack time, spelling words, and playing in the backyard.  Just as soon as he’d hugged me he was off running around again, up and down the stairs, with Finding Nemo playing in the background.  I know there will be many more of these interactions to come, between he and I, between him and his friends, between myself and people I don’t yet know, and between people i’ll never know.  But they’ll have one common denominator.  They’ll all be beautiful.

Run.