Britt & Friends

Baby girl makes me giggle. Head draped off the side of her pillow, rawhide tucked behind her ear, she sighs at my chuckle and goes back to sleep. Baby girl is a lot of work. I’ve questioned if it’s worth it. What was it like sleeping-in until whenever? It’s only been three weeks since I had that freedom and I can hardly remember.

But she’s so cute. She makes friends so easily. Tail wagging, body crouched, ready to pounce in excitement. I’ve lived in this house for six months and after just three weeks with her I’ve already met more neighbors than in those first five months. She begs shamelessly for pets and people are happy to comply.

It’s hard to meet people in a new town. Having a puppy helps, but it’s no easy fix. I spend more time on the phone talking with friends scattered across the country than talking with people that live in my zip code. It seems that proximity doesn’t ensure depth. Only time can do that, and I just haven’t had enough of it yet.

But here is Britt, my cute baby girl, wiggling and wagging. She sucks people into her world. I learn their names as I keep her from scratching and nibbling on their hands and arms. I tell them where I live and ask how long they’ve been part of the neighborhood.

Charlottesville, my new hometown, is healing from a summer of pain. Rallies and violence and death laid bare deep divisions and left us raw.

Selfishly, I want friends because I need human connection. I need deep conversations and to be known by people who are close enough to hang out at a moment’s notice. I need to be challenged and encouraged. I need to laugh. I need to eat good food and share about my day.

Selflessly, though, I want friends because I know that it is through relationships that we heal. Through knowing our neighbors, we can begin to rebuild. It won’t be easy or quick, and we might hurt each other sometimes in the process, but it’s worth the risk. It’s worth the investment in each other’s lives.

I can’t remember what it’s like to sleep past 6:30 in the morning, but my puppy dog is leading me out onto my neighborhood streets. She is sparking conversations with people across a lot of divisions. Turns out a cute puppy helps people drop their guard.

She will grow up soon. Hopefully the seeds of friendship we are planting will too.

distractions

I’ve become enamored with flowers since moving to Charlottesville. It is Spring.

One of the Sunday School classes at church gifted us with a beautiful spread of different plants and herbs. I am sitting next to some of them now on the landing of our staircase. They are soaking up the light bouncing off the clouds on this overcast day. So am I.

I look at these flowers and I am overwhelmed by their color and the perfect radial qualities that make them alike while still being so, so different. Yellow, white, pink, red, green, all mixed together and shooting out in a multitude of ways in their unique, saturated hues. 

Their beauty intimidates me. Nick and I are their caretakers. We are to keep them alive. I want to keep them alive. I want them to thrive. I want to see their beauty spring from the ground over the years to come. But I am afraid that I will kill them. I am prone to neglect. I tend to walk past things and leave them unnoticed. It is interesting the things my attention filters out – and what it fixates on. We’ve been married and living together for about one month. I was walking through the house today taking note of all of his stuff that is lying around out of place when my view widened a bit. I realized that I have left just as many of my own things strewn about the house. It is easy to see his mess and not mine. 

I walk through the house and up and down the stairs and I look for things that need to get done. I look for the unfinished, the imperfect. Having only lived here a month, there is a lot to add to my list of things to do, if I choose to. 

But these flowers are sitting here just being. Just being beautiful. And part of my role in caring for them is enjoying them, so I’ll hang here for a bit. They are a gift of love from a community that is welcoming us in. Today their colors and leaves and symmetry calmed my overwhelmed soul and let me rest for a while. They remind me to just be. To just be loved without having to do. To be loved without having to perfect. To be loved without having to plan. To just be loved.