intramuralist ™

A little less than a year ago, I had one of the best worst weeks of my life… as nothing prepares you for the passing of a loved one. Nothing. The only thing that makes the unbearable pain bearable is a faith that is grounded in wisdom and hope — and speaks of something greater than the circumstances at hand.

My younger sister passed away early that Monday morning. My family and I had long planned to fly to NYC on Thursday, as my teenage son and his talented show choir were set to dance on the prestigious, Lincoln Center stage on Friday. Hence, the celebration of Nicole’s life was moved to Sunday, which meant much travel (and even more emotion) packed into a few short days.

Unfortunately that Thursday morning, the undesired occurred again; in our midwest city of often sporadic weather, we were experiencing a blizzard-like storm that included over 9” of snow. Perhaps minor for our friends in Boston and Colorado Springs, 9” can be paralyzing in Cincinnati.

With the storm extending across the entire East coast, flights were being cancelled by the minute; one by one, we would hear disheartening news of another show choir family unable to make this once-in-a-lifetime trip. For some odd reason, our morning flight took off, relatively on time.

Save for my grieving heart, the flight itself was fairly smooth — that is, until we approached LaGuardia. We were immediately placed into an hour long holding pattern, as the airport had closed in order to plow the runways. Unbeknownst to us at the time, after that hour, the airport had actually reopened, but the first Delta flight attempting to land skidded right off the runway, crashed through a fence, and came to rest with the plane’s nose extending out over the adjacent bay of water. Thank God no life-threatening injuries occurred.

Needless to say, our Delta flight was then told the airport was closed. With the storm intensifying and more airports closing, we wondered if they would return us home. After more delay, we were told we would be landing at Bradley International — although most of us knew not where that was.

Once landed (in Hartford, CT, no less), we found ourselves in a sea of stranded others… so many questions and confusion. Airline reps attempted to be clear; maybe busses would come; maybe they could get us to our desired destination sometime today. There were too many “maybes.”

Yet there amidst the hundreds stranded, we were given a blessed gift. Three other show choir families were experiencing the same flight and plight: two sets of parents, one set of grandparents. We recognized one another, but previous to this moment, I did not know them well. We huddled, put our minds together, assessing our options.

Deciding to take things into our own hands, we walked and talked. As a group, we shared all this unexpected, significant emotion… the challenge of being diverted… the fear of being stuck… the concern for our friends traveling alternate routes… the empathy for our friends no longer able to come… and the worry for our kids, who were separately en route. There was so much deep, dichotomous emotion — almost too much to handle.

“Too much to handle” for me was all this on top of what had happened earlier in my week. Thus, thrust together in Connecticut — feeling simultaneously totally overwhelmed and profoundly grateful — I couldn’t help but share the more prevalent feelings permeating my heart, that which happened before we ever took off. The way those men and women then reacted to the news of my sister’s death was beautiful… the tears in the women’s eyes… the immediate hugs… the questions, the sincerity, and the genuine concern… They loved this then semi-stranger in a way that was meaningful, authentic, and true. Any differences did not matter. They became, as I like to say, my best friends for a day.

Several hours later, we finally made it to Manhattan. The time included multiple phone calls, prayers, selfies in the abandoned baggage claim area, a drink in the pub, and then a two/three hour, at-times-treacherous but fun-filled van ride before pulling into Times Square near 5:30 p.m. As we each exited the van, saying “see you tomorrow,” we hugged one another, unspeakably aware of all the emotion the day entailed. Those friends will always be uniquely, deeply dear to me — what a beautiful role they serve… my “best friends for a day.”

FYI: Show choir season started again yesterday. I can’t wait for the months ahead. I love those kids… and it’s precious to be with your friends.

Respectfully… with great joy…
AR

After a year of atypical, ardent ups and downs, the Intramuralist and company set out to add some new experiences to our annual, end of year celebrations. Hence, this midwestern family of five found ourselves in the middle of Times Square as the ball and confetti dropped, ringing in the festive start to 2016.

It was actually fascinating; we had never done that before — “a bucket lister,” said one enthusiastic son. And so with an approximate 999,995 others, we did our best packed sardines imitation — albeit mostly without the odor and oil.

On one hand, the precautions were eye-opening in a “huge-A-Ha,” unfortunate way. We noted the thousands of police officers positioned to protect us; they were on every corner… in the streets… on the subway. It is a sad reality that such joy-filled public celebrations must now be guarded against those who set out to only destroy; the evil and terror has pierced our innocence. No doubt none in our family will soon forget the few officers thus actually armed with AK-47s.

Yet herded as we were into this unprecedented environment on NYC’s jam-packed 7th Avenue, there was something more eye-opening and encouraging than all the precautions, all the protection, and all who attempted to zap the joy of New Year’s Eve…

Picture this… picture the most crowded place you can imagine — a stadium, a massive conference room… people everywhere… with little room to do anything more than raise your arms with smart phone in hand in order to capture the next snapshot, chat, whatever.

But unlike such typical scenarios, where a crowd of massive size would be aware of varied interests and individual wants, needs, opinions, emotions, etc., we were all focused on the same thing; we were all excited about the same thing; we were all looking in the same direction — eyes focused — waiting and wanting for the big ball to drop.

Without a doubt, there is a inherently beautiful meaning accompanying the dropping of that New Year’s ball…

Instead of focusing on our differences and maximizing what we don’t have in common — noting that in an actual, estimated crowd of one million people, countless significant differences exist — we shared something greater. Indeed, it was far greater… so great, in fact, our individual differences did not matter…

… different genders, ethnicities, ages, faiths, etc. They did not matter. They were also not watered-down. Our differences did not have to be ignored or removed in order for the celebration to ensue. We were each excited about a celebration greater than self.

I was especially struck by my youngest son, that incredible kid who has never been disabled by his special needs. Note that previous to our trip, we had (sadly) cautioned him in regard to taming some of his typically more overt, overly friendly interactions in Manhattan. But sensing there was something different about this crowd — and people actually were interacting and were friendly — Josh said “hello” to an elderly New Yorker. Encouraged by a brief acknowledgement, Josh continued, “Hey,” he paused. “Want to be friends?” The man was first taken by surprise; he then lit up with a huge grin, articulating a hearty, warm Italian response, and said, “You just made my whole night!”


Our nights were each made — because our individual differences did not matter. We could simply, poignantly, “be friends.”

Oh, how I crave such… that we learn to accept and respect our differences — with no demanding-ness, no in-your-face-ness, no watering down nor need to force everyone else to “think like you/me”… no narcissism… no arrogance… no “mad-as-hell” rants or unattractive self-promotion…

It’s amazing what that big ball can do.

Here’s to 2016, friends… as we wrestle with our differences via respectful dialogue — always encouraging one another to grow.

Respectfully…
AR