My plan had been that the house would be overtaken with youth—all those friends who couldn’t come over during the school/summer because I wasn’t home. I told the girls, make plans: I’ll be home. Bring friends over.
And then it didn’t work out. Girl 1 was too busy being elsewhere or sleeping to invite folks here. Girl 3 planned but couldn’t quite pull it off—though she did reconnect with neighbor-friend and the two did spend a majority of the break either here or there. And Girl 2? Other than working on a video project with a girl from school (not really a friend so it doesn’t really count), Girl 2 ended up spending most of her break with someone she doesn’t always get a lot of time with: Me.
We worked together on a worship service she led—creating the order of service and plotting out hymns and poems. She showed up whenever I ventured into the kitchen to bake or cook or simply steal a piece of fudge. She went with us to all the movies we went to see (Blindside, Sherlock Holmes, Avatar), and she sat near me while I sat on the heating pad and watched movies (six Harry Potters, both Bridget Jones, and those sisters in their Traveling Pants). We learned and became addicted to Bananagrams at the church New Year’s Eve games night, and sat near each other playing speed Tetris on Facebook on our respective laptops.
I woke this a.m., on the eve of returning to work, thinking of all the things I didn’t accomplish this break. Chief among them: building a pot-rack and being able to host a houseful of kids. But as I look back over one solid week of not working, I’m grateful for what I did get to do, even if it looks like a bunch of nothing. Because it is the kind of nothing on which intangible yet solid stuff is built—the kind of nothing that can sustain a relationship, a family, a soul. And this, just this, is way more than enough.