Coffee, community, & sasquatch

I didn't sleep last night.

A lot of people didn't sleep last night.

They were up with colicky kids, sick friends, pups that were pukey, and hearts weighed heavy with a world slightly askew.

For me, last night was a series of feeble prayers (lots of them) for family, friends, and strangers who's stories I've been given. They have me knocking on the door of the Unseen God. He swings it open wide and yet, I stand out in the howling dark as if He'd never invited me in.

I don't really know why things are a bit off, but I have a few ideas.

Part of it, is that I'm overwhelmed by His generosity.  In the past month, friends and family have traveled to and through Gainesville, there was play and shenanigans; life and hope offered, options offered, and the handiwork of a wealth of Compassion and Grace that I've never before known. And my heart is going pitty pat.

I do not deserve this kindness. 

And there are friends who's hearts are breaking. Folks who are entering into a dark night of the soul. Strangers still sold for sex. Kids still feral and hungry and scared – abused. Older men and women who are lonely, towns that are shelled, and places where truth has no bearing.

I was kept awake – in part – by what felt like a blister on my toe. So this morning, I started the coffee maker and sat on the floor beneath it waiting for its caffeinated bounty. Until I saw the tick on my toe.

Which began a series of hopping and leaping that had the blind cat in a stir. (Think Foghorn Leghorn.)

I bounced to the bathroom where I called my friend, Ann, who assured me that I was going to live and probably not get Lyme's Disease again. She reminded me of what I knew, but could not recall when the tick is found on my person.

I took care of the tick, my toe, and eventually made it back to the coffee maker where – magically – the coffee was ready.

I needed Ann this morning. And Betty's offer for an adventure last night. And Howard's good explorer's heart.

This life cannot be navigated well in isolation.

That's a myth I have tried to live out.

And failed.

Much like the Sasquatch hunters (though I always imagine he's going to hop out into the road on dark and stormy nights in Hall County, Georgia!)

The reality is that we need one another. We need community.

When one falls, the other can reach out a hand, calming voice, and prayer to raise the friend up.

We need one another.

And coffee.

Lots of coffee.