Simple life

There was a time in life when I believed life was simple. 

The belief, I am sure, resided somewhere between when I stopped wearing stirrup stretch “pants” and hair comb headbands, but before I completely gave up on butterfly clips, one-strap {unbuttoned} overalls, and the belief that all males with bleached blonde hair were–in a word–awesome. 

Some where along the way I decided that if you did A+B+C then D+E+F would inevitably happen. Maybe “decided” is too intentional of a word. I think it was an effortless state of belief, not something I set out to discover or explore. I simply believed that this was the way things were in the world.

If you were nice and friendly to others then they would be kind and friendly in return. 

If you had good intentions then people would give you credit for that and understand your good heart. 

If you did right then nothing would ever go wrong.

Or something to that effect. Maybe it was the butterfly clips seeping magical fairy dust into my brain making me believe that life was easy or simple. I would say it was much more likely that it was the shield of big hair protecting me from the harsh truths of the world. Either way, it was a belief that I held dearly. 

Today I joined a room filled with five-year-olds  in singing dancing, jumping, and shouting through a couple of songs for Jesus. It was amazing. At one point a fellow small group leader’s eyes caught mine and she laughed with a smile that said, “yes, we look pretty silly, but–hey!–why not!!?”

I knew what she wasn’t saying–never mind the fact that I am making all of these inferences from her eyes; we have a serious telepathic communication history. Do not fear. What she was not saying was that it would be easy to sit doldrums, insecure in our bodies and afraid we might look silly and to not participate in the antics going on around us. 

But we would not be in children’s ministry if we were the type to do that, obviously. 

But the kids had no problem. There was no pause. When we said jump…they jumped. Or they at the very least did their equivalent flail/leap into the air. When we said louder, they were very much louder. 

It was easy, simple. 

It must have been about the time that I wore out my Keds and decided to trade them in for those awful, clunky, clog heels we mistakenly believed were fashionable at one point that I lost this innocence. This freedom from inhibition and, along with it, the belief that life is simple.  

A few hours after dancing, jumping, and singing with kids I sat around a dinner table with 4 3/4 other adults. {The .75 is an eighteen year old. I know technically they are called “adults” but they still can’t rent a car and their frontal lobes are yet to fully develop so they only get 75% adult status in this little corner of the universe. It’s my corner, I make the rules because I can.} 

The conversation turned heavy when one said, “there’s something I want to tell you guys.” We exchanged knowing and apprehensive glances, believing we knew the direction this was going. 

The conversation was not pretty, however it was not ugly either. It was some cosmically adult, weird, tense, productive, and repetitive conversation that people with egos and pride and hurt hearts only know how to do well. 

As I sat listening to part of  a conversation I knew I had had at least a thousand times before I wondered…what if we were not so hurt? What if we took our defenses off of the table? What if we assumed the best? What if instead of defense there was simply acknowledgement and apologies? What if grace were palpable? 

But it wasn’t…and those things didn’t happen. For a multitude of reasons.

Today I blame egos and harden hearts. Tomorrow it could be broken hearts and pride or envy. We run the full gamut of humanness and brokenness around here. 

It is not simple. 

However, it is all we have. We have one another, our friends, our families, the people we are blessed (sometimes punished) to have in our lives. We have this one life.

Today–again–I decided it was–again–time to let go of the way I believe anything is supposed to look like. Dreams and goals are great…but not if they are penned in rigid black and white permanent marker across the walls of your heart, inked in so deep that the greatest Mr. Clean eraser could not remedy or modify an alteration needed. 

I once believed life was simple. Now I know it is not. But that doesn’t change much…except for me. The world has not been different. It did not radically complicate itself within my short lifetime. It is me that has changed. The world has simply been waiting for me to wake up to the reality that is. 

So I choose to keep dancing; not to stick my head in the sand and pretend everything is the same. No, that is hurtful to myself and the people surrounding me. 

Instead, I choose to wear my grown up party dress and to dance even when people are watching. To tap into the five-year-old in me that truly believes, “all you need is love” {and Jesus}, and that sharing really is caring, and that people are inherently kind.

Even as I type my brains says, “but there are caveats! You need good boundaries! You can’t be a door mat! What about people that are mean and liars!?”

[Some bratty, vindictive, 14-year-old version of me just shouted, “Yeah!! What about them!!? They didn’t do what they were supposed to! Aren’t they going to get punished!? (More on that girl later.)]

No, adult, logical brain you’re right. We cannot be doormats. But we can choose to look for better and to be better. Every. Single. Damn. Day.

So I’m looking for the freakin’ pot of gold at the end of the rainbow I am certain is out there somewhere. 

Join me?