A few days after meeting Lynne, I was down to make the soup for our church’s common lunch instead of attending the worship. I was hoping we’d be finished with the soup quite early so we could join the worship; the thought of chopping celery sticks with some random middle-aged lady from my church could only be so much fun. While we were chopping the stuff, Margaret asked me how I was. I was still bugged by the encounter with Lynne, so I told her what was on my mind.
I had hesitated to tell Maggie because I did not want to draw the conversation topic to myself, I wanted to be attentive, self-effacing, that sort of stuff. It turned out that Maggie had quite a lot to say on the topic: it got her started like nobody’s business. She told me about her time working as a social worker (I never knew), how she totally burnt out, the concepts she used to help her feel better, a lot of twelve-steppy stuff and pop psychology. I was fascinated. I still wanted to go worship of course, but by then the atmosphere in the kitchen was getting emotional.
By now the soup was cooked, we still had twenty minutes to join the worship, but we somehow decided that the soup needed more attention: make sure it did not burn or something. And we agreed that the cheddar really needed to be added at the last minute otherwise it would curdle into yucky little bits instead of the creamy consistency we were aiming for.
I had hesitated to tell Maggie because I did not want to draw the conversation topic to myself, I wanted to be attentive, self-effacing, that sort of stuff. It turned out that Maggie had quite a lot to say on the topic: it got her started like nobody’s business. She told me about her time working as a social worker (I never knew), how she totally burnt out, the concepts she used to help her feel better, a lot of twelve-steppy stuff and pop psychology. I was fascinated. I still wanted to go worship of course, but by then the atmosphere in the kitchen was getting emotional.
By now the soup was cooked, we still had twenty minutes to join the worship, but we somehow decided that the soup needed more attention: make sure it did not burn or something. And we agreed that the cheddar really needed to be added at the last minute otherwise it would curdle into yucky little bits instead of the creamy consistency we were aiming for.
I had been hoping for some quiet worship time and we got the over emotional “so how did you handle your burnout?” kind of talk. By the end of it, I was even more bugged than when I had first walked in. That weird feeling of being exposed way beyond what you’re comfortable with, that rushed emotional proximity… Hell, did I deserve a cigarette after that!!!
Maggie and I got along pretty well in the following weeks. We did not talk that much; we just greeted each other at coffee. I had a renewed admiration for her: she had given so very much. I was proud of her, I wanted to hug her, but we’re in Britain, so that doesn’t usually happen.
Maggie and I got along pretty well in the following weeks. We did not talk that much; we just greeted each other at coffee. I had a renewed admiration for her: she had given so very much. I was proud of her, I wanted to hug her, but we’re in Britain, so that doesn’t usually happen.
Today was the last service before everyone starts disappearing off to be with family at Christmas. At the end of the service, Maggie grabbed me, with a huge smile she declared: “Dany you’ve inspired me, I’ve taken up volunteering again”. The thing is, I had done nothing at all, zilch, zero, nothing. Nothing beyond sharing how distressed I was that Lynne hadn’t called me.
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