A Blog for my friend Jarboe

This afternoon we were got a nice visit from our friend Jamie Jarboe, who moved last summer to Boston for a fellowship at the oncology unit at Tufts University. She brought her terribly adorable daughter Kimber, and her mother, who was always taking care of all of our friend group when we were in college at Western. It was nice to be around them, since they have known me for a long time. When you share longevity and time with people, there is a richness to even the most mundane conversations that is hard to duplicate...a satisfaction that settles nicely in the conversation.

We were talking about her husband (Christopher) who was my roommate in college and also a good friend of mine, and how he made fun of her for reading people's blogs. He is a manly sort with a tender heart, but you know the type. He isn't much for sharing the underlying with people he may or may not be close to. We laughed when Jamie spoke about how she will try and tell him something, and he will reply, "If you read it in a blog, don't even bother."

And I get that opinion. A lot of people have that. They see blogs as a way for people to whine about things, to rant about things they hate, or to post the most trivial details of their days. I guess there is a point in not liking those things too. I mean most of us experience enough of that at work or school from our friends , so why subject yourself to it when you go home? I mean why would I want to write about the girl who puked in the hall, when I got to experience it in person too? Yes, I see why some people don't get it.

But, for me there is something about writing these things down that helps pacify me. I don't really know how many people, or who (if anyone) really reads these. I don't really publicize my blog, or even mention it directly to my friends. If someone does mention to me that they like what I said, it sort of embarrasses me for some reason, and I awkwardly say thanks. I don't know why I get awkward about it. I get awkward about lots of things I do publicly for some reason. I called a drill sergeant "mam" on the phone today by mistake, but I digress.

When I write about my inability to understand the happenings around me, or my desire to connect to people deeply, or about my faith --- how figuring out my relationship with God often seems like me digging holes to simply fill them back up again, this lightens the load I carry. I don't know if anyone reads it, but I like to think, that maybe someone out there reads it and gets it, and for that moment, we are not alone in the struggles of these things. That for that instant, we have a connection, a strengthening of will, as if our similarities weave the cane together that makes the basket for us to carry the things that bother us in.

And, I see why that isn't for all people. Some people can carry a lot on their own, can carry a lot with them and God, or them and whatever. I find myself needing more than that. So even if no one reads this, even if some do read this and just think "well, what was that all about", even if this were to be read and discarded quickly, like a cigarette flicked out a car window, for me it gives order to the chaos in my mind. It catches the thoughts that bounce and zig off every nook and cranny. It makes me pause and think about God and who I am in him, and I certainly need help with all those things.