And so we arrive back at home today, exhausted…worn…travel-weary. The girls (meaning Claire and Madeline) did very well throughout the entire trip - indeed, surprisingly well. I did not think that they would hold up to the travel as well as they did. Madeline (who I think is an introvert), did well enough so long as she was stuck to Mommy’s hip (poor Anne - Mads apparently rolled in the Mommy glue before we left and there was little to no chance of Mommy leaving her after that for most of the trip). Claire was a star and massively entertaining for most of the trip. She had the people we encountered in the hotel laughing if they saw her for longer than two minutes. On the Southwest Air flight back today, the flight attendant asked (with some humor) for people to turn their cell phones off by saying, “Okay, I don’t want to hear any cell ringers. It’s time to turn the cell phones off. Say ‘Good-bye!’” Claire, whom one is never quite sure is listening if she’s not looking at you, pipes up loudly from our (very last - deliberately chosen row) “Bye-bye!” Several rows in front of us laughed at that one and turned to see whose tiny voice had yelled that from the back.
I’ve noticed (and perhaps you, reader, have as well) that the end of a recreational trip is usually an occasion for reflection of some sort. This trip was especially poignant for Anne and I as we encountered many friends whom we last saw almost two years ago (if not longer), and their new children and children whom we hadn’t seen in enough time that some who are running were barely walking at the point of our departure. And, of course, the times spent with each and every friend were too short in every case, and a week with each would hardly have served to catch up on two years of memories to review.
And given the poignancy of the visit, the reflection that follows is naturally one of sadness in some part, but I would say, moreso in longing. I would not give my time in Indiana for anything - the friends I have made here are wonderful, the family connections equally so. But…there is a desire in every person to have all of their good friends together in one place - to constantly visit, and talk, and learn and support. When one makes a group of friends in one place, then moves to another, one is constantly missing the old friends, even as one makes anew. And on such occasions, it is all too human, is it not, that one notices that new friends would no doubt be supremely compatible with old ones (and when such meet, one is not at all suprised to find one’s expectations met).
From my Catholic prespective, humans are designed to operate in this way. We long to have all of our friends in one place, to be at ease with them and to learn and to teach because, in the end, that is our destiny. As we long for food, and for drink, so do we long for the spiritual things to be fulfilled not on our imperfect Earth, but in Heaven, with our Creator. As both C.S. Lewis and Pope Benedict have noted, the love of friends is often overlooked, and (unfortunately, as with many things) interpreted sexually and negatively, as though love of friends must either be sexual or nothing at all.
And so, we friends must pray for each other, seeing each other physically as we can, but always aware that such things are not guaranteed here on Earth, but following in the great virtue of Hope, remember that our longing for friendship is a longing for the Eternal, and that our time here, separated, is but a temporary condition, and a precursor of the joy to come.
You have always been a student of people, you love to watch the scene around you unfold before you. You are cautiously apprehensive about new people, but once you warm up you are the most loving little child in the whole world. I can’t tell you how much it delights us when we walk into a room that you come running, with arms up, to greet us. You are simply a joy.
