Showing Up.

One time in college (okay, several times in college) I found myself in a situation where I didn't want to be. I wasn't happy. I had a broken heart and confusion on where I was supposed to head in life, and things just didn't make sense. I called my mom and told her that I was moving home for a few months to figure things out and try to get back into my groove again.

No questions were asked.

And after the 10 hour drive home, with all my belongings packed inside of my little Mustang, I walked up into my room because I just wanted to sit on my bed and cry. I'm not the type who likes to admit that I need or want the help of other people. I can do it on my own, or so I always tell myself. So admitting that I need help,  for me,  is like the ultimate sign of weakness and it drives me crazy.

When I opened the door to my room, it was different. It was new and pretty and I could just see all of the work my mom put into creating a space for me that I could retreat to. When I had moved out of the house two years before, my sister took over my room the second I waved goodbye, and I had been put into the small room… and nothing in there had been "mine". The couple of days notice I gave my mom that I was packing up and coming home were spent by her creating a place of retreat for me. I felt cared for and important… and I felt home. She gave me what I needed, even though I didn't even know that I needed it. During the months after, my life was healed in that room. I can't help but think how different things would have been if she hadn't shown up to help me when I needed it.

This past week Mike and I were out of town and have been going through a definite growing and faith driven time in our lives. We moved into a new house about 2 weeks ago, and haven't had a chance to organize, unpack, or get things situated the way they need to be. Knowing that I leave again in a couple of days and won't be home for a month, I've been trying to just be grateful we have a new place to live and not worry about the mess that it was in and that a several weeks I'll finally be able to tackle everything. This week wore us out. It was physically, emotionally, and spiritually exhausting. 

It wasn't until we drove into our neighborhood tonight that I remembered that we would be walking into a house that would not be welcoming; but intimidating and demanding our attention.

The first thing I saw was our drive way. It was covered in chalk love notes from my family welcoming us and the kids back home. We opened the garage to pull the car in, it was clean. We walked in to no boxes. Our once empty fridge was full of food and our pantries were stocked with our favorite snacks. Every room we walked into was better than the last. Clothing drawers were organized, kids rooms were in perfect shape, pictures were hung in my bedroom. I couldn't believe it. The relief and gratitude that I felt for having that burden being taken away was indescribable. My family showed up for us in a way they knew that we needed us to.

There were no phone calls asking what we needed.

Sympathetic words were backed by action without us even knowing what we needed. 

They showed up in a way that made every piece of my heart fill with what we needed, and what we needed was to feel love and peace. 

I'm trying to get better at showing up for other people. To do things without being asked or assuming they're being taken care of. To just stop by and let someone know I'm thinking of them, or to take a meal to a friend or neighbor who I know is sick. Not waiting for them to ask, but taking action to do things that can really lift the weary around me.

Sometimes all that someone needs is for another person to just show up.