Twas Brillig

About a million years ago, back when Brian and I were first dating, he and I went on a double date with my sister Amy and her husband Rob. We went to a movie—something sad and sappy. Amy and I watched the movie, enjoying it, and didn’t really realize (because it was such a common occurrence) that everyone in the audience was crying but us. When the lights came up, both Brian and Rob had red eyes and tear-soaked cheeks. Rob stared at me and Amy with our clear eyes and dry faces and yelled out, his voice still rough with emotion, “YOU HEARTLESS THOMAS WOMEN!!!”

Amy and I stood there, confused. And then… we busted up laughing. Because we realized that he was right! This “show no emotion” thing is a Thomas family trait!

Over the years, we’ve all laughed about this many times.

I’m certain that it’s not that we feel things less deeply than others feel them.  We don’t weep.  We don’t call each other.  We don’t blubber.  But we mourn, we stress, we anguish.  I FEEL sad movies, but I don’t cry during them.  I just don’t.

Both of my older brothers married weepers.  I know that for my oldest brother, at least, it was quite a shock.  It seemed to him like his young wife was crying all the time, and he had no idea how to deal with it.  (This was many years ago—I’m sure that over the years he’s begun to figure it out…)

My husband, however, has occasionally had a tricky time dealing with my calm-headed coolness.  He’s never called me “hard-hearted,” nor has he ever called me an ice queen, as others were prone to.  But I’m sure that there are times when he wonders what is wrong with me and why his eyes are wet and mine are fine.

There are exceptions to this, of course.  When I’m pregnant (and when you take into account that I’ve been pregnant 7 times in the last 6 years, you see that that’s quite a lot) I can be a big fat bawl-baby.  Or when I’ve just had a baby.  And occasionally during that special time of month, I’m more prone.  Still, even then, my emotions are quite mild in comparison to most of the women (and some of the men) I know.

Another exception to my cry-less-ness is when one of my children is suffering or struggling.

This last weekend, we learned that Fuzzles will need surgery, but it’s a simple operation and we should see immediate results.  This is good news—better news than what we’d dared to hope for.

Out of duty, I emailed my siblings to let them know what was going on.  For some of my siblings, this was the first contact I’d had with them since our ill-fated family reunion last December.  I only wrote because people get mad at me if something’s going on and I don’t tell them about it.  Just because they feel that they were left out of the loop—not because they actually care.  I didn’t expect any response.  I’ve never really gotten the feeling that most of them cared at all about me or my kids.

I sent the same email to a few friends.  Every one of my friends wrote back, offering love, prayers, support, and encouragement.  From my siblings?  Silence.

At first I found their silence humorous.  Hahaha.  My crazy family, I thought.  My crazy, heartless, immovable family.

But soon, their silence wasn’t funny anymore.  Where in the crap were they?  Shouldn’t they at least acknowledge the existence of my email?  Shouldn’t they pretend, even if just for one brief moment, that they care?  Pretend to care about my stress and my concerns?  Pretend to care that their baby nephew needs surgery?  Even just pretend to care that it looks like he’s going to be fine?

Nope.

(However, both of my brothers’ wives DID write!  Both sent very sweet letters.)

I found myself saying, “those heartless Thomases!!!”

When I realized what I was saying, I started laughing, and remembered that others see me the same way, and it’s not true, nor is it fair.  I decided to get up and walk away from the computer.  They would reach out to me in their way.  They aren’t heartless.

This evening, I received an email from one of my brothers, along with an email from the sister I least expected to hear from.  Both were extremely brief—one-sentence long.  But it was an announcement that they DID get my email, they WOULD pray for us, and they WERE thinking of us.

It made me think that the other three of my siblings and their families were also aware of us, praying for us, loving us.

Because, see, they’re not heartless.  They still love, they still feel, they’re just not as obvious about it as others are.  And that’s okay!

Tonight as I close my eyes and go to sleep, I’ll pause for a few minutes to feel their love—I’m completely confident that I’ll find it there.