I never need to call #SQUAD in a crisis. They’re already here.
Every single time life takes me to the gates of hell,
I remember that I haven’t yet determined effectively how to clone myself. Each time, I thank God for Grace, since I never need to know how to do it all. This is the precise moment at which the cavalry rolls in to handle everything in a far more efficient fashion than I might; that is the blessing.
Mid-crisis, I find few things more demoralizing than the plaintive and mildly patronizing, “Why didn’t you call me?” Having arrived at myself, I comfortably articulate some pillars of my personality, in no particular order, to wit,
- If you’re part of my life, you’re never called in when it’s time to go to war. You’re already here.
- I am clear about my faith walk, even in its liminal state. If your place in life is to judge whether I have sufficient faith to weather the storm that I’m in, YOU ARE NOT MY PEOPLE. (this also applies to those I love. If your friends are judging your faith for what they think your faith should compel you to do or not AND you’re too weary to explain, you are invited to send them my way. I will lovingly deliver a string of expletives that I will not share here. I’m tryin, y’all.)
- If you don’t know me well enough to know that nothing chills me into stunned silence sooner and more completely than asking “what can I do?” YOU KNOW ME NOT AT ALL. I don’t know what I need, and I will never stop moving long enough to think about it. In the moment, the question is annoying and useless.
In those moments, I’m Dory. I only know how to “just keep swimming.”
Why is it when you are in desperate need of assistance, people stand lovingly by awaiting direction. We’re not those girls. We jump in and do, even if it’s wrong, hoping it’s right. When it’s not, we pray that what we’ve done won’t offend, create additional havoc, work, problems, etc. In any case, action beats inaction every single time. We’re wired to help. We do. We are not storing up favors or keeping track, not like we care or expect that anyone ever can or will do back (in fact, we pray to God it will never be necessary), we do because…
I’ve had more than my share of seasons where I couldn’t be in every place at once, so friends have made up guest spaces and collected my children, or packed up my babies AND my dirty laundry. Really.
Across the years and across the miles, my friends had their friends call with technical expertise AND prayers (and I mean EXPERT, at both advice and prayer). People, some I knew and others I’ve still never met asked other people to pray for my family because God knows and loves us and insists that we know Grace by sending people to be Hands and Voice and Arms that hold us close.
I have been covered, and not a single person that mattered ever chastised me with “why didn’t you call?” Family and friends in assorted foreign and domestic time zones made jokes. Made arrangements. Made life work, including pleading before the Lord on our behalf.
In all of those moments, I am profoundly grateful for times I’d been caught in the act of doing God’s Will.
I will never forget the words of a friend who, when coming to my rescue offered these words. She said the good we’ve done came back to us. Ecclesiastes 11:1. The Golden Rule. Karma. God’s Unlimited Grace. That is why the women I admire and honor are my girlfriends, the everyday rockstars. My mother. My two best friends. The extended family and the community of faith (many faith practices and traditions seeking One God, called by many Names) that loves me and holds me with Divine Hands.
And never, not even a single time, asked stupid questions.
I am a very serious person, so I laugh a lot. I write because it helps me understand the way I feel about the world. I married my high school sweetheart, and together we made two exceptional people and raised a dog so remarkable, I wrote a book about the faith lessons he taught me. I envision a world where each of us embraces the Perfect, Precise Image of God that we are, naturally, at every given moment, even as each of us exists in a liminal state.