Raindrop Relationships

Woke up to rain this morning, the only time since Abby arrived.

When she joined me for a pajama snuggle in the chair by the window, she apparently had already been awake for a bit, sending messages to her friends from school.

These were not text messages. She's only six. But they operated in a similar way, or so she explained to me.

"We have a secret way to send messages to each other with the raindrops. When it rains and the drops hit the window, all we have to do is write a message on the window, and they get the message when they look out their window and see that it's raining."

"Instantly?", I asked, appropriately amazed.

"Yes, instantly", she assured me, very serious. "Whatever I want to say, I just send them my message, and they get it and understand it."

"Wow", I said. "Wish I could talk to my friends like that!"

And I meant it.

With all the technogadgets we carry around with us, yes, even at the cottage, it might be tempting to think that I (and you) actually do have the means to instantly connect with friends. And I have certainly made use of these kinds of connections, yes, even at the cottage.

But I have to admit that I find this isn't all that satisfying most of the time. Technology aside, and with a little brutal honesty here, I actually find most of my important relationships to be confusing and difficult, and the pursuit of spiritual intimacy with others pragmatically impossible in any consistent kind of way.

There are moments, to be sure. Two souls fusing in a deep spiritual friendship, like David and Jonathan. Times sitting around a family dinner or a meeting table, and the synergy and ideas and love are almost tangible. Quiet moments on a deck, under the stars, declaring loyalties in the face of personal attack of one or the other. I've tasted it.

But the messages of utter respect and unconditional positive regard and "you could have my kidney" loyalty are both rare and fleeting. Sometimes you think you've got it, only to find out you were merely emotionally convenient and practically useful.

Raindrop relationships are rare. Sometimes I feel like I'm writing my messages on the windows, but my hoped for connections are as whimsical as Abby's imagination.

Maybe it's just me.

People move away and changes bring adjustments, and confessions bring harsh new realities to light, and words bring wounding and a clearer picture of what the other actually thinks about you, and..... yeah, like that.

And sometimes I wonder why any of us bother.

Thing is, we do, I mean really do, need each other. There's this deep, hard-wired longing for loving and being loved; an aching loneliness for knowing and being known. It's one of the ways we bear the image of the Triune God-Community that created us.

Somehow, I feel like I'm supposed to have this relationship thing nailed by now. But I don't.

I preach regularly about community and authenticity and a commitment to love and grace. I believe Jesus calls us to that ideal. I believe the church should be irresistable because of it. But I certainly do not have this down.

And so I will continue to pursue it, to seek to be the kind of person worth pursuing in it.

Because most of the time I'm pretty sure that it's not you, it's me.

Sent from my BlackBerry device on the Rogers Wireless Network