The Wonder Report: November 9, 2024

Deeply Connected

Nov 09, 2024

Little Brothers

Sometime last week, our new library janitor, I’ll call him Daniel, stopped by my desk to gather the trash. As he was about to walk away, he paused.

“I see you’ve got a picture of my brother,” he said pointing to the frame just behind me.

I paused for a second, clearly confused. I only met Daniel about nine weeks ago, and our interactions happen primarily around daily encounters involving the care for our building. I’d say I know him pretty well, given the circumstances, but not well enough to have a picture of him, much less his brother, on my desk.

What does he mean? I thought, turning around to see where he was pointing.

Then it hit me. In one of our first conversations, Daniel told me that he was in the U.S. Marine Corps when he was a young man, and I shared that I just happen to have a Marine in my family, too. When he saw the uniformed picture propped up on my desk, Daniel made the connection.

“Ah yes,” I said, handing the photo to him for a closer look. When he gave it back, he grabbed his phone and pulled up a snapshot of himself 45 years ago, dressed in his combat utility uniform, just back from Japan.

I don’t know how long ago Daniel was discharged from the military. I need to ask him. But the connection to others that his service created is deep and rich, extending over decades and generations, crossing barriers like race and gender, and creating a brotherhood only the few and the proud can really understand.

It’s the kind of connection I’ve been taking special notice of lately.

Early in the summer, we had a big church potluck dinner to celebrate the retirement of our vicar. We brought in tables and chairs to set up in our rented sanctuary, and each family contributed a crock pot, casserole dish, or cake pan filled with something delicious. As church potlucks often are, this one was abundant and entirely satisfying, with just enough desserts that a person could have a little taste of all of them. I know I did.

The following week, as I was helping set up before our Sunday service, one of the younger members of our congregation, a four-year-old I’ll call James, walked over to me and said: “Remember last week when we had a big feast?” He then went on to tell me about all the delicious food he had eaten, and since I had been there, too, I told him about my own favorites. At some point, we talked about a particular dish, I think it was sweet potatoes, that had marshmallows melted on top. And of course, that got him to thinking about s’mores. We agreed they are delicious.

Before long the service had started, and about 30 minutes into it … just about 35 minutes after James and I had been talking earlier … it was time for the Eucharist. I was helping to serve the cup, holding the chalice at a 45 degree angle for each person to dip their small wafer. When James walked up for his turn, before I could even catch a breath, James whispered, “Remember earlier when we were talking about s’mores?”

“I do remember that. I do,” I whispered back, as I crouched down on one knee and held out the cup to my little brother. “James, this is the Blood of Christ, the cup of salvation,” I said, as he dunked his wafer right in, popped it in his mouth, and headed back to his seat.

Somehow, these two moments feel connected to me, moments of shared experiences and shared memories and an openness to say out loud what brings us together. In a time of divisiveness and open hostility, these small encounters remind me what it means to be human, in the very best sense of that word. We don’t have to agree on every issue or have the same background or even know a person’s name to make connections, though that last one certainly helps. But we do have to open ourselves up a little so that the things we have in common create strong enough ties to bolster us against incorrect assumptions or ignorant biases. And we have to have the courage to say, “Yes, that’s how it is for me, too,” even if everything about the other person isn’t so recognizable or comfortable. Sometimes, it just takes the one thing in common for us to find a brother or sister staring back at us.

I wonder … what connections have you made with people recently? What similarities have you found with people who might otherwise be very different from you? How did it make you feel to be connected in that way?

“Why a stranger's hello can do more than just brighten your day”

I have love the research in this NPR article about the ways that “even the most casual contacts with strangers and acquaintances can be tremendously beneficial to our mental health.” According to several studies highlighted in the article, “the richer the mix of different relationships in people's daily conversations, the happier and more satisfied they felt.”

“Betty’s Diner” by Carrie Newcomer

Singer-songwriter Carrie Newcomer is a favorite in our family, and her song, “Betty’s Diner,” feels like the perfect musical version of what I’m trying to communicate in this newsletter. If you want to take a listen for free, you can find the song on the artist’s YouTube channel linked below. You can also read the lyrics here.

10 Years of On Being a Writer

As I’ve been making my way through a new season of life and discovering how to still be a writer, I thought of the book I co-wrote with Ann Kroeker back in 2014. We wrote On Being a Writer: Simple Habits for a Writing Life that Lasts for writers at all stages, but I particularly had writers like myself in mind, writers who want a long and sustainable writing life through all the stages of life. When I pulled my own copy of the book off the shelf, I discovered that it holds up in this new season. I also realized it’s been 10 years since we launched the book out into the world. Happy Anniversary, little book!

Well, you’ve come to the end of another Wonder Report. Thanks again for joining me. It’s a privilege to share this space with you and to enter into these conversations together.

As always, if you’d like to send me a note or ask a question, you can hit reply and end up in my inbox. You can also leave a comment over on the Substack app. I can’t always respond quickly, but I try to always respond.