When I was a kid, I took swimming lessons at the Abilene Swim Club. I don't remember much about it except it was early in the morning, so the water was cool, and the last couple of lessons were diving.
We started with diving off the side of the pool, which was pretty easy. Then we went to the low dive. Scary, but not too terrible. Then the high dive. Since I'd mastered the low dive and pool side, I figured this would be easier. The main thing to remember was to tuck my chin down so I didn't face plant on the water.
At the end of one lesson, my mom was there to watch (or maybe she was there the whole time? I don't remember) and I was going to dive off the high dive. I was excited because I'd done it a couple of times and it was easy. I felt like I was kind of a badass. I climbed up, took my stance, and dove off. And then at the last second, looked up to see if Mom was watching and smacked my face into the water.
That hurt. A LOT. It knocked the wind out of me and I feel like I remember the instructor getting in the water to pull me out because I was stunned. I remember crying and my face being numb and getting three gummy worms from the snack bar. I haven't really been able to dive since then, but that could be because after four babies, my body SHOCKINGLY doesn't in any way resemble a 7 year old's. Which is probably for the best.
A few years ago, my feelings got hurt. I won't go into a lot of detail because some of the people who hurt my feelings read this and I seriously don't want them to feel bad. I've gotten over it and it's completely fine now. But at the time, I felt like I'd gotten the wind knocked out of me again.
After I calmed down and saw their sides and realized why what happened happened, I realized I'd let myself believe I had more of a community than I actually did.
I know this is hard to follow in its vagueness but bear with me.
I decided that rather than let people around me unintentionally hurt my feelings and make me feel bad about myself, I'd take that hurt and turn it around and become the kind of friend I wanted to have. I think this past year showed me that I've managed it, with varying levels of success.
I hate going out to new places and talking to people I don't know well or sometimes even leaving the house. I get a panicky feeling in my stomach and if it's a big overwhelming situation, I've cried about it. It's hard for me to put myself out there, so joining big groups is very difficult for me. So I started with something small.
When Eden was born, our community of helpers was virtually non-existent, and I believe most of that was because of her health. People just didn't know what to do. But one woman from MOPS did the MOST amazing thing for us. She brought us dinner. Every week. For a month.
To know that once a week for a month dinner was taken care of was such a relief. We were trying to juggle three kids, one with crazy heart issues that needed lots of doctor appointments, and adjusting to life as a family of five. Realizing how amazing that was, when my best friend had a baby two and a half months after Eden, I jumped on it and did the same for them. And when Eden turned one and a friend at church had her fourth baby, I did the same for them.
The great thing about being so recently the recipient of such an amazing gift was I knew what a new mom wants: no dishes, snacks, tasty food, dessert. So I brought disposable plates and containers, a bag of just snacks FOR HER ONLY, my favorite foods and always, always a delicious dessert.
I think one of them cried once, but I may be making it out to be more than it was. I know they were tremendously grateful.
I started trying to say yes more when people asked us to hang out or go to the park or Chik-fil-A with them. When a friend invited me to Starbucks last January, at first I hesitated because I don't drink coffee and that felt weird, but then I went anyway. And now it's a weekly thing that I miss when I don't go. And it's not just the two of us, there's a third regular who I've known for less than a year but already count as one of my favorite people and she's coming fast into the "best friends" club. I mean, she's probably already there, but I don't want to freak her out.
I was really given the test in the last year and a half when my friends started coming to me with hard things, asking me to keep them company in not as fun places like tiny houses with children sleeping ten feet away, or hospital rooms, or way too silent living rooms. We had sad conversations in all those places, but we also laughed in all those places. Rebekah went along sometimes when she was a newborn and a tiny baby who nursed every 15 minutes.
When Eden was born, I felt alone in Abilene because I had one or two friends, and they were busy with their own families and their own lives and I felt like I had to fight to be a part of them. And so, person by person, bit by bit, I've expanded my tiny community. It's not huge by any means, but I feel more comfortable with some of the people who were vague acquaintances before and I have new close friends who I didn't even know existed in 2016 and I'm closer to some of my friends than I ever thought I would be. Some of the things we went through this year together were not just bonding, they felt like cementing.
I hope I've become the friend people feel like they can rely on and call on, someone who will be there for them when they need it. Whether it's bringing you a meal after your family grew (or didn't) or going to get coffee and catch up on soaps or just sitting around chatting while the kids fight in the next room over who's feet are bigger (spoiler alert, they wore the same size). Maybe these relationships won't last forever. Maybe in a few years time, we'll drift apart like I have with some of my friends. And if that happens, it's ok. Because now I know I can do it. I can take a deep breath and dive into the deep end and come to the surface and swim. And I will remember to tuck my chin.
