It’s a little later in the week than I typically like to post. I write on Mondays, when the message is fresh and I’m refocusing on the week ahead. It’s a cool way for us to connect – I reach out to you right away and you have the rest of the week, if you decide you want to check in at all.

I heard this kind of communication is actually one of the characteristics of modern communication that has far-reaching consequences. When we are face to face (or even on the telephone), we send messages (verbally, physically, and countless other ways), they are received and reacted to immediately. If I say something that hurts your feelings, I see it, and we both have the opportunity/responsibility to address the hurt right now. You don’t really get the chance to hide it or pretend, because if I’m present and paying attention, your cues give you away. We both build all kinds of interpersonal skills through this synchronous dance. Nowadays (do I sound like somebody’s grandfather???), we send texts or emails and they are responded to sometime later. The receiver gets the chance to edit their responses, and the sender may not ever know the wound he/she inflicted. We lose so much in this asynchronous communication, it’s like the medium creates AND requires a disconnectedness.

This affects our ability to be present in situations and especially with each other. I am writing later in the week because I have chosen this week to be wholly present at home with my youngest son, who returns to college this week. (Really, it may more accurately be stated that I have chosen to be wholly present all summer. You may have noticed this, in any number of ways.)

I just want to share a few thoughts with you, and then give a sort of benediction. A benediction is the end of a church service where someone gives a parting thought, a blessing. It usually begins with “May you ____” At the Bridge, ours is always taken from the book of Numbers (ch. 6, v. 24-26, ending with “[May] The Lord lift up His countenance upon you and give you peace.”)

I often talk about a 2 Hands faith. This means we are invited to hold all of the emotions that come with living a completely present human life. Being an actual authentic human being is complex and complicated. We can be lots of different things, experiencing wildly different emotions from one second to the next. They are all ok, all welcome, and integrate into us (sometimes not so easily) making us fully aware and empathetic.

A great example and the one that I am swimming in right now is bitter-sweetness. “The bittersweet side of appreciating life’s most precious moments is the unbearable awareness that those moments are passing.” Marc Parent wrote this. I have no idea who this is, but it came to me through Brene Brown’s brilliant Atlas of The Heart book.

My son and I are very close, I love him dearly, am so proud of him, and really enjoy his company. He is absolutely ready to leave, start his adult life and change this world. I want him to go, I’m excited for him to go, we are celebrating – he loves college, is responsible, and will be able to fly – and I’m heartbroken. This kind of heartbreak has its roots in the richest, most wonderful soil of gratitude. I don’t want him to stay, I want him to become all he’s been created to be, and I will be his biggest fan and admirer as he goes.

And it hurts like crazy.

I don’t ever pretend it doesn’t, because to pretend otherwise is to introduce dishonesty into this sacred space, where it most certainly doesn’t belong. We have been given these gifts by The Creator of The Universe, He’s given them in love, why would I hold back anything? Why would I hold back joy? How could I possibly put dimmer switches on my gratitude? He gave me this great big, soft heart, He gave me this boy to love, to raise and to let go, and asks me to hold all of this out loud, so that is exactly what I’m going to do.

We’re playing games this week, shopping for school/dorm stuff, eating meals, disc golfing, and laughing. 2 nights ago, we played basketball in the driveway, like we always have, and the old man soreness I feel is 1. Not that nice, and 2. The most beautiful ache. He plays video games in the next room and I can see him while I writes to you, and that brings us to the benediction…

May we be courageous enough to enter into these relationships, and be present to the kind of searing pain that comes with such a deep, wide love. May we experience all the fullness of emotion that comes with the blessings of these human lives. May we be torn in gratitude.