It was a brisk February eve, and I had planned to walk to a neighbor’s house to meet up with a circle of friends. The three other Colliers who live under this roof with me were feverish and coughing, puffy and red-eyed. They sounded like they’d gargled Drano. After tending to supper and making sure everyone was comfy and settled, I strapped on my headlamp and went tramping through the dark neighborhood. It’s an eery, beautiful, calming thing to walk in the night, after everyone’s pulled in and closed shop. On these winter eves, no one’s out on their porch, no one’s walking the streets. The place is still, even as you know you are surrounded by homes filled with laughter, bountiful tables, more than a few heartaches, folks glued to CNN or Bird Box or Homeland.
On King Mt Road, I passed a two-story house with a row of large, wide windows stretched across the ground floor. Even if there hadn’t been so much illumination radiating out of those windows into the black night, I still would have peered in. I’m nosy like that. There was a wide circle, a couple couches with old Windsor chairs interspersed between. There were 5 or 6 people in that circle, a forty-something fellow, I’d guess, with several grey-headed women and men. They sat in the warmth and the light, having what looked like fine conversation. Of course, I have no idea what they were actually doing. They could have been having a family fisticuffs for all I know. But from the looks on their faces, they were doing something good. They were doing something together.
With my headlamp on full blast, I eventually made it to the house where I was supposed to be, where there awaited another circle of friends, another circle of couches and chairs in a room filled with light and warmth. We shared coffee and slices of some kind of spectaculous apple spice caramel cake that must surely be illegal. We talked about where we are, where we hope to be. We talked about what worries us, what we pray for God to help us be and do. We were doing something good. We were doing something together.
There are lots of things that I’m sure are necessary as we walk through these tumultuous times and navigate the night that presses upon us. But I’m convinced that these kinds of circles, this being-and-doing together as friends, in the warmth of light and laughter and joy, are absolutely essential. This has always been true, I believe; and will continue to be true. Find your circle. Find your people. And whatever else you do, stick with them.
Thanks for writing Winn. Besides worshiping God on Sunday, I like the day because we see friends we don’t usually see during the week. I too appreciate
write to acknowledges the note to know at least they read it.
Friends on Sundays, a real gift.
I love love love your voice. Gives me hope, in the goodness of man. Thankful
Thank you, Lynn. Hope is one of my favorite words, so thank you.
I retired early Dec and now that the dust has settled, hubby recovering slowly but well after back surgery, it is pure joy to meet with the Vintage. I am hoping to increase my time with these folks to get “sharpened and tuned in”.
I hope you get lots of that Vintage time.
Thank-you Winn, for this. Fortunately I live in warmer climes and don’t need a headlight to navigate through my neighborhood!. That said yes I truly believe in these circles. The fact that I opened my email to fund yr email on this is strangely coincidental I should say.
While I do have a circle of Christian friends I meet from time to time over tea or breakfast who are also my go to group. I have many other circles some are just us women and we share many common things. Do fun things together and support each other.
Circles are good and am hoping to extend to a different kind of circle soon to help each other. So Winn hope your circle flourishes and you find what you want to achieve.
I’m glad you have numerous circles. Your life must be rich.
Loved, loved this one. We are in more than one circle and they are absolutely necessary to our connection with a vibrant life. God is in the middle of each one. This one read like poetry. I could picture the neighborhood, the night, the stars, the lights from the windows and feel the love in each living room.
Thank you, Jeanie