Last night the twins went for a walk. They called when I was at a meeting and I gave permission, but was too rushed to agree on a curfew. I got home by ten and they were not back yet. I called. Twelve times. I texted in between. My imagination unreeled with all manner of catastrophes. John drive around looking for them. I peered up and down the
road. Finally Hope answered.
"WHERE ARE YOU!?!?"
"I'm sorry!! I see that you called but I didn't realize until now! We were walking around the Cathedral. I'm sorry!!"
"You may not be out alone at ten thirty! COME HOME!"
"All I want is to hug you right now! We're coming!!" she cried.
The sad thing is I forgot to say the only important thing, which is of course
that I love them. Anger and fear obliterated the real message.
When we were all three squished in one chair, we cried and held each other and I apologized for screaming. They buried their heads in my neck and apologized for being late. John checked their phone which I was ready to toss for its inability to work.
"See this button? The volume was off." He explained.
After a long snuggle and heartfelt prayers,
everyone went to bed feeling calm.
A friend and I talked last month about how distant she was feeling from her husband. He made critical remarks. She felt hurt. There were good messages that went unsaid, and stinging ones that took their place. It looked grim.
Then she suggested they make love, even though she was not feeling loving.
"It worked," she told me later. Being close softened the distance, and
somehow subdued the resentments. She and I are both fans of breastfeeding, and know that oxytocin is pretty much a miracle for bonding moms to babies. It is the hormone that is released during lovemaking too.
Sometimes words do the trick for healing the distance between people. Other times they are inadequate. Touch carries the message more fully.
And for those of us lucky enough to live in the same house, it is our good fortune to
be able to tap the magic every day.
