Moving the Couch Part 2: Crossflame Tour Continued

(Missed part 1? You can read it here: http://blackbirdberry.blogspot.com/2015/07/moving-couch-part-1-crossflame-tour.html) 

I’m a problem solver. I pride myself on that. I’m a strong person. I pride myself on that too. Pride, really, is the dolly upon which my life-couch rolls. I’ve crossed many a rough terrain with the help of my pride.

I almost lost it on the Saturday night of Crossflame tour, but there was a concert to do and smiles to be smiled and if there’s anything I can do, it’s smile in front of a group of strangers while keeping the bitterness locked behind my teeth. What I can’t do, apparently, is skip dinner in order to cry aggressively towards the ceiling, do a concert, stay up until 1am to make sure no middle schoolers are up on their phones, do two services on Sunday morning without breakfast, and have three people ask me if I’m okay. Two, apparently, would have been fine, but after the 9:30 service as I was sitting in a pew waiting for lunch, the third came in the form of a youth who wouldn’t take yes for an answer, probably because tear streaks and a shaky voice are the least convincing bouncers for the emotional state to ever exist.

The whole situation spiraled until I was sitting with another adult leader and the youth pastor, with guest appearances by the choir director and Cry-Inducing Questioner #3. And I’m laying out my whole sob story, how I’m, just, so exhausted (we all are), how I feel useless (a cry for affirmation of the work I’ve been doing), and how it’s a waste of time for me to get to know these kids who clearly don’t want to know me (I’m really just afraid that they won’t like me). I’m kicking things off my couch left and right so I can curl up with my Pillow of Existential Doubt and my Blanket of Defensiveness like I’m used to.

But the talk coming back to me was completely opposed to my pillow and my blanket. They were happy for me to air my grievances but their solutions were different than mine. Just get to know three kids today, it’ll be a start. Sit back and let someone else handle things for an afternoon. Let the kids see you be vulnerable- it’ll show them that it’s okay to not be strong all the time. As if every tear wasn’t rusting and aging the wheels of my pride, bringing me closer to panic by the minute because without my pride, I’d be stuck. Let them love on you, they said, like that was a perfectly acceptable option and not a red flag sign of weakness.

But eventually, there were no more tears because there was no more water in my body available to leak out my face. I went to the bathroom to fix the clown makeup that crying creates out of my regular face, realized that I couldn’t, and went to lunch where half the choir, kids I couldn’t even name, came up to me and hugged me and proved that there was some water left in me after all. And as much as I wanted that to be that, this was the start of the long pleasant/painful process of making friends, something I haven’t ben in need of doing in years. I’ve always been pulled in. I never had to invite myself before.

But then Wednesday night rolled around and we were all sitting around a bright campfire, lit with skill, dedication, and a tampon, with people opening up and hugging and caring and affirming, and you could see the exponential growth of this family. We passed around a donated glow stick and listened as people talked again and again about the kindness that had been showed to them and that they had been able to show. When it’s done right, a group like this is blessed with love. We did it right. 

I only held the glow stick for a minute, but it was to thank them all for doing for me what I couldn’t do for myself. That’s all I had. It’s an experience, letting people care about you and for you. It’s an experience, too, to actually sacrifice your time, a part of your life, and have it pay off in the end, to remember that the original option was never to carry your couch alone. It was to have a family. 

So add another to the list, I guess. Crossflame Tour 2K15, family #12.