My therapist challenged me to write a piece without a happy ending. I didn’t like that idea one bit. This year I’ve worked hard to heal the old wounds of rejection and loneliness, but like any hurt, it comes back round and needs to be invited in for another deep chat. Stuffing pain under the rug with the crumbs and dog hair never ever works. At least, not for long. So I invite you in to a conversation I don’t enjoy, but I’m finding is necessary and good.
Connect is a dangerous word for a desperate heart.
It conjures up memories of dictating my phone number to new mom friends at the park four years ago, only to never get a call. I remember saying hello to every single face I recognized at church, only to get few, if any reciprocating invitations, which we all long for.
I recall how I found that longed for in-person lives-closer-than-20-minutes friend, taking walks, being absolutely refreshingly real. Then God moved her halfway across the country.
The need to connect cuts me deeply because its a longing I see in myself, magnified at every stoplight. All of us drivers tapping away text on our phones. We want to be needed, noticed, acknowledged, and most of all, known.
Connect is my heart’s cry, and God is creatively filling in my connection gap in such amazing ways, which is another post in itself.
Connect is a deep yearning, one that gets filled and emptied, emptied and filled, and it always leaves me wanting more. I don’t quite know what to do with the ache that seems to never go away.
This post is part of the wonderful flash mob of Five Minute Friday Writers at Kate Motaung’s blog. We write on one word (today is CONNECT), and write for five minutes without stopping. I hope you’ll join us, even if it’s in your personal journal.