The Right Word.

Decreasing numbers.

First we were 8.

Then, in the same year, we were 6.

Last week a series of mixed events had us at about 4 for more than a week.

I felt like our numbers were dwindling too dramatically and I didn’t care for that feeling.

My sweet college friend Gretchen and her lovely family were passing through town for an evening. We enjoyed dinner and sharing stories and gawking at the increased height of our kids and their deep voices and all the time that has somehow passed. (I shared stories of her college escapades that embarrassed her but delighted her children. What are long time friends good for anyway if we can’t bring embarrassment back from days gone by?)

I wrangled kids from near and far to join us for dinner and Gretchen asked if it felt like a revolving door at my house these days.

I sighed. I’ve been a little undone this week. Probably the revolving door has made me dizzy and I’ve got the vertigo of Lucille Two.

But she’s right. It feels so – fleeting. Ships in the night. Texts more frequent than face to face conversations. A shared calendar on the wall is more effectively communicating than we all are.

I don’t like it.

On one hand, I can’t put my finger exactly on why I’m so bothered by it all. And of course, on the other hand, I can.

Leaving church Sunday morning I stopped to chat with a friend out in the bright sunshine.

It had been a while since we’d had a conversation and we were catching up and I was wrestling with my brain to engage my mouth to find just the right word to describe my current summer and my mental status.

Busy. Full of change. Shifting. Different.

None of these words fit precisely what I was thinking.

And then.

The right word came, as it often does, without effort.

Unraveling.

That’s how the summer, this season, my heart are all feeling.

Like a Giant Unraveling.

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