Hello, Old Friend

Hello, old friend.  It has been awhile. But there you are, waiting for me.  

Writing. 

It always welcomes me home.  There is something safe, something wonderful about words.  For me, putting words on paper is like walking into the embrace of an old friend who is ready to listen, ready to walk with me through any journey.

So, here we are.  It has been some time, and it was time I needed. To be quiet.  To rest. To feel. To think. To welcome. To let go.

For most of my life, I thought of the world and of people and situations as right or wrong, this way or that way; black or white–no gray.  And now, I have come to understand that although some situations are black and white, life and people are more complex.  

Lately, I have found myself in the gray.  Lingering there–in the gray–looking, listening, understanding.

Painted Smiles

Recently, my son came home from a friend’s house and told me he had just watched the best movie he’d ever seen.  I was surprised when he told me it was “Joker” with Joaquin Phoenix.  

After days of asking me, I watched it.  It was violent. It was sad. At times, it was hard to watch.  And yet, it was captivating.  

I asked my son why he loved the movie so much.  He explained to me that most movies have a good guy and a bad guy–like many superhero films.  He went on to say that typically, the good guy always wins, and that this movie showed the complexity of people, the messiness of life.  He said that he could see the Joker’s transformation, his sadness. He said there were times he felt sorry for him.  

My son saw beyond the painted smile on the Joker’s face; he saw him.  

I listened to my son, and I saw him.  There he was, standing in the gray; so much understanding at such a young age; so much wisdom.

In the quiet and the rest of the past few months, I have thought a lot about painted smiles.  And of the people I know behind the smiles.

The mom who called me sobbing to tell me that her husband had left her.
The family who had to hospitalize their son recently for depression.
The young girl who is suffering from overwhelming anxiety.
The friend whose husband was just diagnosed with ALS. 
The mom I prayed with whose son has autism. 
The friend who is going through a traumatic divorce.
The friend whose husband passed away suddenly.
The young girls I met who have been removed from their home by Child Protective Services.

And the list goes on and on and on.

I have never been more aware of painted smiles. Pain, heartbreak and tragedy have a way of revealing the truth about people. 

It is heavy.  
It is messy.  
It is gray.
So much gray.

Some turn their heads.  Some are in denial. But some–some will join you in the gray.  To see past the painted smile. To sit with others in their pain. To be there to listen and to pray.

And so I say hello, old friend.  Writing. Thank you for waiting for me in the gray.