The Velcro Effect

It follows me.
I see hints of it in the actions of others and find evidence in conversations.

It’s been studied, I’m sure, by psychiatrists and such folks with fancier titles and more specific thoughts than I, but I’ve decided to venture forth and point it out to you anyhow.

Now, I’m not one much into talking about hearts and souls and fluffiness like that so I like to use a more tangible example to describe the phenomenon at hand; Something I simply call

— The Velcro Effect —

Fact: Velcro was invented in 1948.

Second Fact: I think part of me is made out of Velcro.

Now, in case you haven’t examined a piece of Velcro it’s a recently it’s a relatively simple device. There are two parts: the fuzzy side and the pokey-hook side. When pressed together, the hooks from the first strip catch on the second, holding the two pieces together. Quick’an’easy. Velcro is great.

That is… until it gets all old and worn out. Time after time it’s torn apart and pressed together, until it’s ratty and old and filled with fuzzies and hair and the pokey side is worn down so much it doesn’t attach so well any more!

So how does this connect to me?

(Haha, connect.)

Well see, there’s this thing about people. I like them. I’m sure you do too. Or one or two, at least.
(No? Well, then, you sound like you are one hurt pup.)

But then, there’s also this thing called life.
And in life, people come and people go.
And one learns pretty quickly that one’s heart is only so big.
And every time someone else leaves, be it for a short time or long, something changes.
It usually involves them taking a lil’ piece of your heart along with them.

And after a while, my pokey-sided-velcro heart gets a bit worn out with too many goodbyes.

“We’d rather never say hello than have just another good-bye” I’ve heard it said.
Sometimes, I’ll admit it, I feel like this too.

This week saw the first 2 good-byes of the Mongolia Chapter. There will be many more to come, but these first two were pretty good reminders that our time here is short. I think of Ecclesiastes and how life has seasons, and I think of how much I would be missing if I chose to keep my heart closed every time.

I wish I could say that it’s times like that that I choose to ask a name, to make an effort, and choose to love again. However, the honest answer is that sometimes I don’t.

But.
Sometimes,

I do.

And I meet really cool people who teach me things and make me laugh and pretty much have “awesome” printed all across their forehead.

And then when the time comes to say good-bye, I take some comfort in  the words of a friend-of-a-friend:

“We’ll see you – on this side of heaven or the next!”


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