Come as You Are

The dinner plates had barely been shoved into the precariously full dishwasher before I finally faced the question: should I go to Well-Read Mom tonight? It certainly wouldn’t be convenient. We were in the midst of moving from our home of nine years to one that would be more conducive to life with our growing family. The house looked as if a flood of cardboard had recently ebbed, leaving boxes of rubble in its wake. The feral children prowling between the boxes were a whole other issue (I kid, I kid. Kinda). 

As I slid my dish towel across the soiled countertops, I lamented the fact that I had not read The Aeneid. I hadn’t even had a chance to glance inside the front cover. Actually, I hadn’t even been able to take it out of the box…wait, where was that? Had it been packed!?! A quick glance at my phone confirmed that the crew was gearing up for the meeting. Some were bringing cheese, others chocolate, others exclaiming that they had a few more pages left and were excited for the discussion. I groaned inwardly. I would have nothing to contribute. Not an opinion about the old Roman epic, not even food.

Perhaps you have found yourself at this point. Where it all comes crumbling down–the facade of whatever it is that you think you bring to the table and you’re left with just…you. You as you are. My phone pinged again: Have you left yet? I picked up my phone to reply that I hadn’t read and probably would catch up with everyone next month, blah blah blah. When, suddenly, I was given the grace to recall the WRM mantra to always go to the meetings, even if you weren’t able to read. I had said that to my fellow members many times and meant it! Because, really, what is Well-Read Mom all about? It’s about the literature, sure. But I’d say it’s more about the community and culture that is being nurtured–and half of that battlefront just involves showing up. While I certainly wouldn’t have much to say about Virgil’s masterpiece on this particular evening, I would have the unique opportunity to listen and laugh and be strengthened by my sisters in a multitude of ways to be sure. I had no doubt that I would face packing with a new vigor the next day if I would just drop everything and leave right then.

I hurriedly pulled up my hair and changed into a slightly less rumpled sweater while simultaneously hitting the send button on the text: I’m on my way.