Chasing Contentment

Monday, March 5

I think the heartbreak of feeling your child's heart break is one of the most painful hurts of all hurts.

Griff and I have these odd little intimate conversations at random times, often in the van. Mike's teaching a night class this month two nights a week, and so the kids and I headed out to the Target this evening after finishing homework. On the short drive, Griff shared such sad feelings of missing friends and wishing he had friends here that I'm pretty sure I could feel my heart splitting into little pieces.

He was telling me about how he isn't popular (How did kids get to be popular at 8? I don't remember that until middle school, myself.) and about how the kids don't like him because he's the new kid and because he's 'gross.' (His word, not mine.) And I thought all eight-year-old boys were gross.

And the poor kid is going to have to move to another new school next year thanks to rezoning. I tried to explain that by next year, all the kids will be new, but it didn't much seem to matter.

And I tried to explain that a little boy's mom called just today to see about a play date, but he said that little boy doesn't seem to like him much at school because he's popular. (Mike pointed out that the kids here seem to be growing up far faster than the kids in our previous hometown, and that may be part of this problem.)

And Griff finished with, "I just wish I could have my old friends here." And what else was there to say except, "me, too."

Because, let's face it, I miss my old friends, too. And I've met one girl at work that I go to lunch with sometimes, but I still have yet to refer to her as 'my friend.' That seems too intimate for what we are.

I miss talking to Mandy in the street at night, waving off the mosquitos and knowing the daily blurbs of one another's lives. She has this new daughter who wouldn't recognize me if I walked in her door, and I have these kids that Mandy knows so well but about who she now has to ask.

And I miss knowing all the silly, annoying things that Linda's kids are doing. We always gave up something together for Lent, and unless she changed her mind, neither of us formally gave anything up this year. Seems we needed the support... shared misery, maybe.

And I miss driving down to see Aleece on a Saturday just to check in on her and to be checked in on. In general, I miss.

These are those sad days when a hard day at work had me missing my former profession, and then Griff's sadness reminded me of my own. These are those days when I trust that when God led us here, He also intended to provide the friends Griff and I so very much want and need.

And these are the days when, through my tears, I trust Mike when he says that it'll all be okay one day.

[  posted by Chel on Monday, March 05, 2007  ]
[   3 comments  ]


3 Comments:

Aww...I am so sorry. I feel for you. Truly do. I think this is partly a reason why you kept dibs on my coming to your good ol state :) I'm sorry you don't have what you once did, but it will happen, and it will happen when you are least expecting it to. I will pray a special prayer for you tonight.

I know I don't really know you, but in a sense I feel like I do.

Love and hugs to you.

By Blogger it's me, Val, at 9:47 PM  

Chel, you guys are breaking my heart too! I hope this weekend helps a little with the cousins getting together. We'll keep ya'll in our prayers that new-found friends will be right around the corner. Love to everyone! Stacy

By Anonymous Anonymous, at 8:34 AM  

hugs. sounds like you need one. are you displaced houstonians? (i read the post about astros spring training...)

loved your 100 list - i'll be posting mine soon too.

thanks for stopping by the party at my place!

By Blogger Carrie, at 2:57 PM  

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