Dear Nestlings,
I began this month with one (loudly spoken) hope: that March would bring a few good days of weather. Usually I spend these few good days of weather stretched out on my south-facing driveway, absorbing heat like an amphibian. My children avert their eyes, but secretly they like that I’m weird. (Or so I tell myself.)
Alas. March has failed.
I’ve reminded March (again, loudly) that it “had one job”—but it ignores me without batting an eye. In fact, today a fresh carpet of snow draped itself across my driveway. As for myself, I am neither absorbing heat nor shoveling. March and I are at an impasse. Amphibians might die outside right now, but March will die tomorrow. So really, who has the last laugh?
And so, we’ll give March its last day, and with it, its last Friday—the fifth to arrive this month. When my friends and I arranged Letters from the Nest we scheduled out four weeks and I volunteered to pick up any extra Fridays lying about. Who knew that one would come so soon? (Probably anyone who looked at a calendar.) Still, I thought it would be a good chance to backwardly introduce my fellow letter writers, respond to their essays this month, and (as usual, and already illustrated) complain about the weather (a habit of mine).
Erin spoke this month about choosing our stakes in life wisely. I thought I would share a story about Erin herself to further illustrate this point:
You see, once upon a time, Erin and I were driving to go on a hike. We were in separate cars, and while my phone navigation was originally running I soon found myself trailing Erin’s vehicle like a dutiful duckling. As such, I decided to turn off my own navigation. Turn by turn we progressed. At one point, I began to feel we were headed the wrong way, but upon further reflection, I decided to trust Erin and ignore my worries. She was my friend! She grew up in Pocatello! She had a blue van that looked like it knew what it was doing! Shortly thereafter, Erin and I came to the end of the road we were traveling. Did we find ourselves at the trailhead? Ready to hike into the hills beyond? No, we did not. We found ourselves at the Women’s Prison (located somewhat near the trailhead). Barbed wire and tall fences loomed ahead. Luckily, no armed guard awaited us and we were able to turn our cars back around and navigate to our actual destination. (I’m sure Siri felt vindicated.)
After several bouts of laughing, Erin and I found the whole experience to be rather allegorical. How many of us end up turning off our own navigation to trust that of a friend’s? How many of us end up at an unintended prison-like location as a result? So yes, Erin, I agree, we should be careful of where we place our stakes and which voices we decide to trust. I’m going to follow you on this advice and hope I don’t end up at the prison again!
Bonni shared a story about being vulnerable with friends this month… and about being the kinds of friends people can be vulnerable with. It reminded me a bit of one of my children who currently has a million and three questions to ask anyone he meets, but who is so busy asking his next question that he forgets to wait for any answers. Often times I find myself telling him to actually listen to the answers for questions he asks, but I am not so sure he is listening to me say that either. He probably says the same about me…
Which actually reminds me of how I met Bonni. Bonni was already living in Iowa when we moved there for Justin’s PhD program, and while we did have dinner together one or twice and we did go to Church together every week, we actually didn’t get to know each other very well. This was because Bonni and I were very alike (just like my non-listening child and myself). Which is to say, both of us were quite content to spend our days quietly in our homes: tending children, reading books, and writing words all—as Captain Jack Sparrows would say—by our onesies.
Bonni and I didn’t really get to know each other well until I moved to the opposite end of the country and started a writing group for my friend Kyle. As I scoured my brain for friends to invite, I remembered Bonni and her words and I got an inkling that we should have got to know each other better when we actually lived along the same street. The truth is, it can be outside our comfort zone to reach out, say hello, and ask how another is doing. It can be out of out comfort zone to answer back, to say what’s happening, and tell each other a secret. But when we do the work to do it, we end up with friends it would have been such a shame to miss. I’m so glad Bonni and I found connection in writing, and maybe one day I’ll see her in person again.
And lastly, Jessica gave her own tongue lashing to March concerning its evil resident Daylight Savings. It’s no surprise to me that Jessica took such a mundane irritant and teased a life lesson out of it without me looking. This is exactly the way I met Jessica, which is to say, I don’t remember meeting Jessica at all. That might sound rude, but let me explain:
Jessica moved to our neighborhood during the dreaded period of house arrest we all experienced in the year 2020. As such, when she started popping into book clubs and scripture groups, and Girls’ Nights Out, it was something I neglected to notice until suddenly, without fanfare, Jessica was a wonderful part of my life. This is the way of Jessica, I think, to enter a space without fear, to take stock of everything in it, and then to quietly make it better, and stronger, and full of more truth. Always ready to help us move on to the next great thing, I don’t really think she’ll be much concerned to see old ways shift into the past. But I’m also sure she’ll be patiently helping all of us who do have troubles, helping us to see the light we’d missed while we were busy doing something else.
It was a good month of essay-reading, amongst these excellent friends of mine. Thank you for joining me this month, friends, even if it was snowy and cold. On to the next month we go. We’ll only glare at March a little, just enough to make sure April knows what we expect next.
Jamie