Stories leave things inside us when we’re done (so long as we’re paying attention when we consume them). They make us feel and think, and those emotional responses stay with us and become a part of who we are.
-Sean Platt, Writer Dad
After basic sustenance, relationships, and shelter, stories are what people want most.
– Sean Platt, Writer Dad
We’ve been in Nashville as a family for just a little over one week now. Coco’s jetlag is fading away. Mine still shows in bits and pieces as I wake up at 3 in the morning. Charina’s still shows a bit, but she and Coco are getting along just fine in our apartment. We’re settling down for sure. The house is all tidy now. We still need quite a few things like an oven toaster, but our Sola promised to give us one. Yay! And we also got a nice Welcome Rug that screams a loud Southern “Hey y’all” for any visitor that will come a-knocking soon, thanks to my colleague Lee Ann. Last Saturday, we went to the playground at Charlie Daniel’s Park in Mt. Juliet. And boy, Coco loved every single bit of it! Too bad it rained later in the afternoon.
As a Pastor’s Kid, I am no stranger to goodbyes. As a five-year old boy, I remember saying goodbye to neighbors and playmates in Dasmarinas, Cavite as my father graduated from the Union Theological Seminary and we moved back to our province in Isabela. I can no longer remember the names of my playmates and our neighbors then. Since then, I’ve experienced constant moving–from one church parsonage to another, from one set of playmates and neighbors to new ones every two years or so.
I don’t really have childhood friends that I still hangout with today. They’ve all been relegated to the dustbins of my past movings, almost forgotten except for the occasional remembrance and passing glance at Facebook. Though we may chat every now and then online, it’s just not the same, we feel the weight of the distant years between us.
My wife, though, has two bestfriends that have stuck with her since Grade School. Last week, they got together for dinner, together with the kids that they now have. Sometimes I wonder what that is like–having a friend who knows you inside out, who could remember every single embarrassing moment of your life, and who would know just by a single glance what you think and how you feel.
But such indulgence isn’t really available for a lot of us, Pastor’s Kids.