Go press that dissonance, if you dare.
Alone, I drove our car up to Scott and Sarah's new home in Orange County. Piles of their oldest daughter Grace's toys stared at me from the passenger seat, except for her naked baby doll called Judy, who wasn't so much staring at me as it was shoving its ass in the general direction of my face everytime I checked my mirrors. Hello, Judy.
As San Diego peeled away from me, I listened to the remarkably-voiced and -named Imogen Heap of Frou Frou sing the words "is this it?" over and over again in a breathtaking zillion-part harmony in Breathe In. It was like realizing for the first time that my life is happening. I'm running a marathon in a few days and chances are, I'm in the best physical, mental, and emotional shape of my life, even though everything feels ragingly crazy right now. Maybe it's connected to the long distance runner madness, but on top of this, my heart constantly feels broken and brimming at the same time. It makes me sad to think about the changed daily fabric of our life here now that Scott and Sarah and their beautiful children are further away, but it makes me happy to know that I'll just have to drive a little bit longer to get there and that our friendships have been enriched and will continue to be enriched by this geographical obstacle.
Before I left for Orange (but not the City of Orange! It's different! You can only say Orange County!), another friend of ours pulled me aside. She talked to me about how she didn't really have anyone else that fit the place Sarah was leaving, and she was also trying to step away from another friend with a very different lifestyle. She told me she wanted to make sure she and I started being better friends, and that we started being there for each other. I was honestly dumbfounded, but played along and agreed with her. I do agree with her, technically, but it just surprised me to be told so plainly that I was second-string, that I might not have been worth the relational effort had Sarah not moved away. My own insecurities aside, they hadn't even closed the moving van door and replacements were already being lined up.
It didn't really hit me until a lazy moment at church on Sunday, when I realized I was waiting for Grace to come waddling up from the parking lot, holding hands with her mom. Sure, they'll be back at church every once in a while, but I need to get used to not seeing them like that. It hit me hard. There is no replacement.
A couple of years ago, some friends we knew moved to Alaska. They moved here knowing they'd be moving away for the next Coast Guard assignment, but didn't want to hold back from truly living in the moment. They made some amazing friendships here, and then had to kiss everyone goodbye one sad summer evening. My friend made a little speech about how a lot of his coworkers avoid taking those risks of making a connection with someone only to lose them, but they did. And they had absolutely no regrets.
I'm a better person for taking risks and loving people, even when it's not completely convenient. Doing things the hard way is so underrated. Remind me of this at mile 20 on Sunday morning.
Yes, this totally is it.
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