Could it be that love is practicing being well? Today, I tackle the paradox of receiving and giving in a world of manufactured expectations.
I breathed in deep, pushed down the brake pedal, and turned the key in the ignition. The lights on the dashboard strobed as my car wrangled to turn on, but nothing sparked. I deflated.
Intentionally refilling with air, I pulled the door latch. Unsure of the next right thing to do, I decided to identify the location of my cell phone. Towards my apartment I headed, eyes on my forward stepping feet as I directed my mind to follow suit and consider reasons for my car’s struggle to start. Low gas? There was enough. Too cold? I have no idea. Battery? But I didn’t leave my lights on… As I turned the corner, my shoulder brushed my neighbor’s as he passed. My chin jolted up as I swiveled towards him. “Hello!”
Once the common pleasantries were exchanged, I hesitated; asking for help was still new for me. I gulped in air again. “Maybe you can help me?” rushed out. A bit assumptive, but I lauded my own attempt. I waited.
“Sure. What’s up?” I live where amazing people live.
Thirty minutes later, my car was jumped and running, but the battery’s life was clearly approaching its end. I headed to the autoparts store. The associates sold me a replacement and asked me if I needed it installed.
“Oh! I thought I’d need to take it to the shop for that.”
“Nah, we got it. Don’t worry.”
I had already received so much today, and I mused at my own composure. Somehow, my insides were so relaxed.
“I don’t even have cash to tip ya’ll. Can I grab ya some coffee at least?”
“No, ma’am. Pay it forward instead. And I mean that.”
Eight hours later, I was on a neighborhood run. I was heading home when, three blocks from my apartment, I saw a propped car hood and Christmas lights trailing across the cement. I’d slowed to a walk now and noticed the Christmas lights were attached to a power pack which was clipped to today’s second dead car battery. Ah, yes. Of course. This was the right next thing.
After introducing myself, I told my new neighbor friend that I’d return in five with a brand new car battery and jumper cables, to lend some energy. And so I did.
“How can I thank you enough, ma’am?”
“Hey man, don’t worry about it. Pay it forward. That’s all we can ever do.”
We cannot give that which we have not received. As much as our governors would like to give us all COVID-19 tests today, enough tests do not exist. Mathematically, it does not make sense. And yet, all of us have been asked, at one time or another, to generate some mystical force from within to meet work demands and the needs of those around us. You know the feeling: It’s Monday. You’ve had four hours of sleep and no breakfast because your child had an allergic reaction last night and needs to stay home from school, your boss has scheduled a meeting to address missed deadlines, your spouse is away on a business trip, you need to apply the dog’s tick medicine, it’s the day of your weekly visit to see your mother, and you’re in a wedding this weekend for a dear friend and need to buy bridesmaid shoes. On days like this, we do not have what it takes to address all of these needs alone.
While we may admit that here in this safe hypothetical blog space, “out there” we have all been fed a horrible lie: it is your job to produce energy from deep within yourself to show up and do it all. This is your duty. This is strength.
As legendary as that idea might sound in theory, it’s impossible. Something’s got to give.
While attempting to manufacture energy might be gritty, I choose to be one voice saying: this is not love. Why? Because I believe that love makes sense, and overworking, overproducing, and self-violating simply does not. We cannot give that which we have not received.
Love makes sense.
Love waits. Love is choosing comfort with the uncomfortable, free admittance of limits, and honor of bounds. It is permission to say, “There is none now. Let’s wait together.”
Love names the good things that are here and simultaneously expects the good things that are coming. It must be because love celebrates when goodness comes. Love is content while it waits for more.
What if active faith means moving closer to the relationships that help you laugh as you wait for love to come?
Let’s return to Monday and imagine what it would be like to receive the external energy your body lacks. You wake up to the mess and choose to believe assistance can come find you. So, you think as best you can and call for help. Imagine love comes: your engaged friend’s visiting sister can help watch your child today so you can brave the meeting with your boss and then visit your mom in the independent living facility. A family down the street can’t have a dog of their own and would love to watch yours. The application of tick medicine is somehow a bonus. On your commute from work, you choose to stop by your friend’s local coffee shop to refuel and call your husband about the meeting that was uncomfortable but productive. This connection reminds you how far from alone you are as you face this messy, difficult day.
You can see it clearly now: you have what you need. You breathe. You eat. You spill some coffee on your skirt. Thank God, it’s black. That afternoon, your mom is feeling up for a walk so you go to a park together. You move, albeit slowly, but you take what you can get. You feel. You tell her about the craziness. As you see all you’ve received, you laugh. You return home. Your friend’s sister passes you off to your son. As she leaves, she offers some shoes for Saturday. They’ll do just fine. You go to your son, and with your presence, you give him what you’ve been able to receive today.
This story isn’t about being a superhero or a sorcerer but about listening to and expecting love. A life of active faith.
Could it be that love is practicing being well? What if active faith means moving closer to the relationships that help you laugh as you wait for love to come?
Could it be that love is practicing being well?
Are you open to receiving the things that life is giving you today?
Are you respecting the level of energy that you’ve been able to receive?
When your energy is depleted, how do you respond?
Are you longing to lend your extra energy in a specific direction? If so, what is it? What is one step towards that desire that you can take this week?
You might be wondering how on earth we might apply this mystery to our coronavirus-infected aching world. Join me once more tomorrow to lean into the uncertainty of this lofty question.
In love, may we wait together for good things to come.
We are never alone.
Be well.
P.S. I love Audrey Assad's interpretation of this message.