As I watched and listened and looked around the room at all those proud parents and grandparents, hailing undoubtedly from a dozen Central and South American countries, I wished I could hear their stories - why they left their home countries, how they got to the U.S. and why they chose Charlotte. I wanted to know how many of the people around them they knew before sending their children to that innovative and inspirational school, and what their hopes and dreams are for the precious boys and girls they celebrated that day. I wanted to know who their companions have been on their life journeys. I hope and pray that they have never known what it is to be alone.
I am thankful for how welcoming they were to me - the stranger in the room, the one taking photos from the corner, the one who teared up as their favorite little people marched into the room to the tune of "We Are the World." I hadn't heard that song in more than fifteen years. Those rising kindergarteners had no idea just how relevant that song is to their situation - We are the world. We are the children. Together. Never alone.
On Tuesday night, I attended a support group gathering for family members of people dealing with brain conditions and sensitivity (often called "mental illness"). There is something encouraging, sobering, and heartening about sitting in a room surrounded by others whose loved ones are dealing with bipolar disorder, schizophrenia, anxiety and personality disorders. Some have children as young as eleven years of age. Some have children who are in their late 50s, adult children whose guardianship rests in the hands of these brave older adults. We look into each other's eyes, sharing sorrows and victories, rubbing each other's shoulders and offering tissues to wipe each other's eyes. We hope for the best and prepare ourselves for the worst. We share email addresses, medication compliance tips, and tales of sleepless nights. Together. In our darkest hours, on our scariest days, during our longest nights, these monthly gatherings, these support group sessions remind us that we are never alone.
Recently, I've had coffee and tea dates with friends facing their own challenges - with children, with spouses, with ex-spouses, and also celebrating their new joys - with new friends and lovers, jobs they enjoy, new homes being built and renovated, and upcoming trips. Today I had lunch with a new friend, another mother who is on a similarly heart-breaking parenting journey with her beloved children. I laugh and cry with my friends. We tell stories. We share tips and suggestions. We sit in silence. We journal. We share food, wine, water, and long, fast paced walks. Together. Even when I'm sitting in my study, writing and editing these blog posts, I know that I am not alone. What a gift friendship is. Companionship. Tenderness. Compassion. Love. Co-traveling along life's journey. Never alone.
The moment in Greek class that I like best is the last one. Not because I want to leave and go home - remember, I'm a geek and I love Greek. But rather because of the benediction that Professor Carson Brisson prays over us each week. He wrote it years ago (I know because I Googled "Carson Brisson benediction" and discovered that it has been quoted many times.) and apparently he prays a version of it at the end of every class he teaches. I have videotaped it twice, taken notes on it twice, and edited it three times in a computer document. I love this prayer. It is a reminder, another fantastic reminder, that we are not alone. Never alone. He prays it. We hear it. We live it out. Together.