Because I needed a friend. . . .

My compartmentalized life has started to fray a bit in this season of "back to school" transition. The to do list has spilled over into several different areas, and the frenetic excitement of change and "new" has in some areas started to wear thin.

There's the ministry compartment which is buzzing with activity, nerves, and excitement as Todd and I set out to host a junior high home group this year with the girls. A recent training retreat was everything we could have imagined and so much more - energizing and challenging us.

There's the home front which is still getting re-booted after a nasty virus hit the kids ( and now me). Doctor visits, check, dentist, check, ortho - well after this week, check, play dates, check, birthday parties, check, squeezing what we can into the very end of summer vacation.

Boxes of school supplies sit in the doorway to be carted to various open houses - there isn't a night this week that isn't booked solid with some meeting or activity.

And I'm exhausted.

I know that some of it is just being sick. (Why is it that mom always gets it last?)

But I also know that there is another cause lurking in the shadows. It's the one I don't talk about.

A leader in our church that I respect a lot chats with me on our way down the hallway. "How are you doing?" he asks "I'm great!" I fire back with a conviction that has no roots in reality.

I talk with other folks and we converse about how it can be draining to be an introvert. It's an easy topic. It has elements of truth to it and I can blame my exhaustion on it. But the real truth is that I'm more than tired, more than sick.

There is a piece of my soul that is raw.
So simple a problem.

In this back to school season, I am not going back to school.

At the beginning of the summer I agonized over my digital  resume, splitting hairs over word choices and nuances. Then the applications went out, the essays were written,  the online questions answered, the Gallup surveys taken, and the waiting started.

Waiting for one call. Just one. An interview offered, a chance, an attempt to show that I would be a good fit for the need presented. It would just take one call, one e-mail. Just one - if it was the right one. Just one.

 I studied for that one interview. Made flashcards so that I could remember the many steps in an IEP, what IEE stands for, the types of RTI, and tables of CBMs.

The phone never rang. No e-mails came. With a week to school I have slowly watched every position fill, holding out hope for the very last one which has remained open for applications - until yesterday. When I found out that one was no longer available.

So I am not going back to school. At least not this year. Not yet. Not now.

My brain totally gets that God is in control, he can see the future I can't. He has plans that are good for me. My brain knows that.

But my emotions are raw with a feeling of rejection, raw with the sharp edges of a broken dream. A box labeled "hope" opened and found empty. Yeah, my brain has it right and eventually it will prevail. But tonight I was hurting. Behind every smile and assurance that my summer has been a good one, was a mess - a busted up sense of my own self worth.

I met new people tonight and we talked about stuff. But you can't tell someone new about the holes inside you. You can't tell a lot of people that you would give a broad general label of "friends". I needed a friend that was more than someone whose facebook photos I hit the like button on. Just one. Just one real friend. That was all I needed. Just one.

God didn't send me a phone call, he didn't send me an interview, but he did send me that friend.

Someone who knows right now what raw feels like; but who could set it aside for a hug - yeah that's right a hug. I don't touch people and I don't generally like to be touched. But I am learning that sometimes I need it, and this is one person that I can let do that. Because they get it. She understands that my head is in the right place and that I want to put all my emotions in a hole and go where my head is at. Yet while I can compartmentalize school and church and board meetings and projects, I cannot seem to get out of the same hole that I want to stow my feelings in. She gets it.

It makes me breathe easier. It helps remind me that there are hopes that are unseen that fit into the box I thought was empty. A simple hug. Just one. Just one true friend. Thank you God, because tonight I needed a friend. Just one.