I’ve never done well as a solo act.
…that pun was way funnier in my head.
I’m still on leave from work as my body heals, but I stopped in on our Diocesan Convention last night, just to swap hugs and see people I’ve missed for a long time. This job changed my life; I hemmed and hawed about staying home and letting myself be away until I was actually back on the job, but ultimately, the personal connections with the hundreds of people gathered there are a sizable chunk of what got me through this.
Anyway, this last day has been a solid echo of the best reminder during this period of loss: I didn’t survive this on my own, or for my own edification. An army’s gotten me through it. This isn’t my story; it’s shared between all of us. And that’s my favorite thing about church: that we’re not alone in this, ever. We’re each other’s mirrors, lessons, stepping stools, shelters, and elevators into something grander than ourselves.
I’ve always had a little bit of a pack mentality; I blame it on choir. When I learned to sing, it was always as part of a large group; you learn to appreciate what your voice means as part of a whole. I’ve always been a little envious and suspicious of rock stars; I suspect they learned at the same formative age to use their voices differently, to build them to stand out. Rock bands are somewhere in the middle. But you can see this level of interactivity and personal growth cascade on through people as they interact with one another at different points in life–it’s how we lead, carry ourselves, and carry one another.
Soloists are a whole different thing. But still, you come back to the whole.
And boy howdy, am I ever looking forward to being back as part of this whole.