Kind of like praying

It is humbling.

We used to rush to the mailbox to see if any letters arrive. On Tybee Island most of us go to the Post Office to get the mail and we pull it out of the box then flip through the stack … hold the bills back for later, throw away the multiple credit card applications, and now occasionally … but only occasionally is there a card or a letter.

Letter writing is almost a lost art.

On the other hand … email, instant messages, texting and Face Booking occurs in abundance. It all happens instantly and from anywhere in the world. My friend Jacob in Norway sends me encouraging messages while my friend Sandi on the other side of Tybee cracks me up with her Face Book posts.

I check on my kids daily through Face Book to see what they’re up to.

Valarie in Hawaii lets me know she will see me at the Street Medicine Symposium in Philadelphia while Maria in Chicago lets me know that I won’t see her.

Dedra texts me to see if she can come over while Conner lets me know they’re home from St. Martin.

Will is a friend I’ve never met though we stay in pretty constant touch and are currently planning a party together (he wants a tour of the sad little holy dock).

I hadn’t seen Rev. Jim Lowder since we were both in serious trouble with the Baptists all of those years ago but now we’ve reconnected and trust that our physical paths will cross again and not just our virtual ones (we have more Camelot’s to unfurl).

And every day I write about … what’s going on.

When I first started it was all work stuff but then I found myself “suddenly single” and it was more important for me to write about that. So I did. I just poured my feelings out figuring it best. “Let it out and let it in,” Paul McCartney told us in “Hey Jude” and I figure he’s right about that.

It got me in trouble of course (most things I do seem to get me in some kind of trouble). The Board Chair who chooses to remain anonymous (Jerry Rainey) took great offence that I described my hurt, the discovery of who loves me and who doesn’t, whatever Goddess did, my drunken bicycle and Fran’s thousand shades of green.

So he met me one morning when I really didn’t want to see him and chastised me about the things I posted on the Internet. Luckily he met me at the Breakfast Club and when they saw a short guy in a suit lecturing me they threw toast and bacon at the booth we were sitting in. He took offense at this too but it made me love them more.

And I didn’t listen to a word he said and kept writing about the real things that were happening to me. It was the beginning of the end of end of a pretty rotten relationship anyway.
So every day I wrote and of course things got worse. So I wrote about … worse.

And this incredible thing happened … I started getting all of these emails, texts, instant messages and Face Book posts from people who were struggling with … worse.
The things in my life resonated with the things in their lives. Or the things in my life made them feel better about the things in their lives.

And people kept writing me.

New friends came into my life. Old friends were raised from the dead. All of these friend requests came from people who were … or are … homeless. People from around the world were suddenly in my laptop every day.

Some took offense at things I said and let me know it but most said … it is really helpful to me that you do this. So I keep doing it. It is kind of like praying.

So … I pray the Lord my soul to keep … and to keep your soul too … and for hurt to go away from our lives … for worse to get better … and for peanut butter cookies.