On Thanksgiving I had the opportunity to join Bob in visiting a gorgeous lady, Lou, who I’ve written before in a blog post, The Church According to Dirt. It was fun to surprise her, and she mentioned the dirt article almost immediately. Lou looked per usual her glamorous self, her face and hair done up for the holiday. She reminds me of Zsa Zsa Gabor.
And she also reminds me of the perks of being married to someone who is a professional visitor, and who is really good at it. When I asked Bob if we could go see Lou for Thanksgiving, he knew exactly where and when to go. He has established the relationship so it didn’t seem weird to just drop by. I don’t easily identify myself as "the pastor's wife" but I will admit there are some fine advantages. Lou is an example. For some reason, over the years, she has extended to me an unconditional acceptance that I did not earn and do not deserve.
Visiting Lou is a balm for me, because I’m a worrier. I chronically question, doubt, apologize, and over-think. I'm a habitual lamenter. I have a zillion regrets. (According to author Mary Karr, these are great qualities for a memoirist. According to Jesus, I am constantly forgiven so move on.) Still, my internal capacity to fuss is like the Titanic.
You see what I mean? My interior stew is thick.
But a chat with Lou reminded me of the best antidote to fear and regret: basic human connection. All that other stuff doesn't matter, or at least matters less. I highly recommend the art of visiting. (Talking to myself, here.)
Sending this out with all best wishes for you and yours.
Natural Born Bleeding Heart