Fair Weather Friend

I have never been a very nurturing person.  When somebody I love experiences hardship - even if it's just a cold - I tend to turn and run.

Far.

Fast.

I've tried analyzing why I do this.  A lack of nurturing as a child?  Overwhelmed with feelings of helplessness?  Because I'm an ass?

A few times in my life, I have pulled through for friends or family members.  I have brought a few meals, stayed in a few hospitals, cleaned a few houses and held a few hands.  But my tendency to bury my head in the sand far outweighs any positive actions I've managed to put forth.

This weekend, I have a very close friend recovering from surgery, a very close daughter recovering from the flu and a plethora of very close others dealing with varying degrees of misfortune.

I'd like to say that I've showered them all with love and affection  That I'm there for them - a solid rock of reliability amid a sea of despair.  (And painfully revealing hospital gowns.)  But I am not.  I have run.

Far.

Fast.

It isn't like I'm hiding in the basement, horking down cold pizza and scratching my lamentations into a worn out composition book.  Because that would be lame.

If good intentions counted at all in life, I'd be a rock star.  But love, from what I've heard, is based on more than good intentions.

I need to say more.
I need to do more.
I need to BE more.

I need to step outside my comfort zone and reach back to the people who have proven themselves to me again and again.

And I will do this!

But . . . I think I'll reach out for one more slice of cold pizza, first.