Team Work

This morning, as the coffee machine beeps and I shuffle toward it, I see a flash of orange on the counter. It's the bracelet that I asked Tim to buy for me at his school yesterday. The one that says, "Team Amelia KHS Loves You!" I open the package and slip it on my wrist and look around the kitchen and smile.  "Team." I get to be part of the team. 

As I reach for a coffee cup in the cupboard, my hand goes toward the shiny white mug with the picture of an old fashioned camera and the word, "Smile," in black, and I do. I smile and I think about the friend who gave it (and so much more) to me. I am on her team and she is on mine. 

I pour the rich, dark coffee and I pray, once again, for the family that particular brand of coffee reminds me of, the ones who live over the hill and down the street who are like parents and dear friends all rolled into one for me and mine (and for so many others). I am on their team and they are on mine.

As I move toward the living room, coffee in hand, I see a jar of rice left there by the young man who is sharing our home with us for a few months, as several dear ones have done before him. I remember each one who has slept down the hall from us and our son and filled our home with laughter and younger, fresher ways of thinking and I grin. I am on their team and they are on mine.

I sit on the sofa and out of the corner of my eye I see a card, mailed to my husband by a member of our church, with cursive handwriting (and stickers) thanking him for his recent message and his service.  This church of ours - We are on their team and they are on ours.

I sip my coffee and open up a workbook for a study on the topic of "Living Beyond Yourself," the author of which I have never met, but whose words have sunk deep into my soul for decades. I breathe out gratitude for her many gifts. She is on my team and I am on hers.

I take my pen in hand and remember that the reason I am going through this particular workbook at this season of life is because I am doing so in tandem with a new friend. Someone who entered my life in an unexpected way as our circles of friends rotated around one another for months before we finally collided. It was meant to be. I am on her team and she is on mine.

I open Facebook on my laptop and see so many faces and words from those who have crossed my path over the last 43 years. Several brave women with beautiful bald heads tackling cancer one day at a time. Babies galore, captured by their moms and dads, laughing, eating, babbling and reaching milestones one by one. Friends, young and old, commenting from overseas, from Arizona, Tennessee, Pennsylvania, Ohio, Virginia, Washington DC, Oregon, California, New Mexico, Idaho, Texas, Georgia, Massachusetts, Florida, Oklahoma, Montana, Indiana, Washington State, Nevada, Utah, Minnesota, Michigan... I'm starting to think it would be easier to note where they are NOT from. You are on my team and I am on yours.

I close my computer and head downstairs to rotate the laundry from the washer to the dryer and I glance at photos of our around-the-corner neighbors taped to our wall. Each face reminding me how glad I am that they are there, so very close by and that they hold the spare key - to our home and to our hearts. They are on our team and we are on theirs.

As my hands reach for the laundry I see that flash of orange again and I join with Team Amelia and pray that the cancer in her body dies - quickly and fully.  I thank God that I get to be on her team and that she and her family are very much on mine. 

It's all team work.