looking through me

Tag: presence

August 24, 2015

reaching out

Sometimes I think I need the exact right words. I need a perfect plan and predictable outcomes . . . assurance of success.

I want to say something, but what if my words grate instead of soothe? What if my timing is all wrong? What if I make it worse? What if?

So I stay silent. The words remain unspoken. Other words remain unwritten. The note card sits blank, the text un-composed.

The opportunity passes.

I wonder . . . what if I’d said something? What if some words—though imperfect—would have been better than no words? What if a piece of mail would have meant more than an empty mailbox? What if?

So I wrote three notes. I sent one message. Two got no response: maybe the words were wrong; maybe they chafed; or maybe it isn’t for me to know. And two got responses: the riskiest one—the note to the person I know the least—resulted in a teary hug and a heartfelt thank you; the other received an immediate text and not-for-the-world-to-know information, so I could pray more specifically.

But it wasn’t about the responses. It wasn’t about me at all.

Even as I fret over wording, my anxiety is misplaced. Offering companionship during difficult days is about presence, not perfection. Reaching out is not for my benefit.

I restock my card supply. I add reminders to my list. I turn my eyes from my fears to my friends. The outcomes aren’t mine, but the opportunities are.

 

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August 11, 2015

ness

Language is not static. Rules are broken—I break them all the time. Meanings and usages change. I know. I feel my shoulder inch up near my ear when people turn nouns into verbs. But sometimes tacking a suffix onto a word it doesn’t belong to creates the exact meaning I need.

One in particular keeps rising up within me: -ness. A word plus -ness denotes a quality or state; it turns adjectives or participles into abstract nouns. So I take “known” and I add -ness, and I get a word that sounds strange but means the quality of being known . . . known-ness. It’s perfect.

Because being known matters. Who I am when I am known matters. Known-ness feels different than being needed or wanted or tolerated or acknowledged. It’s the opposite of anonymity. There are overtones of being accepted and embraced and valued. To be known means being received for who I really am and not who I might be or used to be or seem to be.

Known-ness comes through sharing life: rejoicing together, grieving together, surviving together, thriving together, working together, resting together. It takes trust and truth. It doesn’t happen overnight nor is it a byproduct of time alone. It requires intentionality, vulnerability and honoring the other person’s vulnerability in turn.

Known-ness is scary. It’s risky. It requires stepping out from behind walls and facades and careful constructs. And it’s thrilling and freeing and wildly good.

Life—like language—is not static. Opening my arms to the dynamic possibilities of known-ness may be bending some rules of language usage but it is also expanding my definitions.

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