The blessing of being broody

11 May 2012

There are two distinct definitions of broody. One means the desire to reproduce offspring (this is the Irish definition, one I learnt as I carried my big baby frame around the place for 9 months; friends touching my belly, saying, "Oh, I'm feeling broody!"). The other means moody, meditative, introspective (this one I know from daily, personal experience).

The man is broody today (the latter, not the former). He spoke with friends, via skype from across the ocean. Two guys he worked with, hung out with, drank loads of coffee with, and prayed with. Great, God-loving, people-loving Irish guys. And he misses them. This he doesn't say much, but today he did. "I miss them." I think it's a phrase somewhat foreign to men, in which they express emotion and need for maintaining personal relationships and interactions with people other than their moms and/or wives.


I love this side of him, but to be honest, it kinda makes me uncomfortable. I mean, I'm the broody one. Melancholy, wistful, a little stormy. He's the steady bow, navigating the choppy waters, steering us onward and upward. So when he expresses a need, an emotion, a slight angsty-ness, I have to shut my mouth from saying, "Hey, you're the strong one, man. Hold it together!" Instead, I must nod and say, "I know. Me too." And we can be sad together in that moment, for the distance and the time lost.

Because here's the thing: I'm tired of feeling sad or bad about not being in Ireland. I'm tired of ending every conversation with guilt over not being there. When our friends say, "Get back soon," it's not because we've let them down, but because we're missed too. We lived there, and I know we will again. Today, that's good enough for me. The relationships, the work... those continue while we wait for God to show us the way and provide the means. Missing them is difficult, but really, it's oh so good. What we're doing is of some value, here and there.

Clearly God is still doing something, and it will be freaking amazing. Because if He wanted, He'd drop the funds in our lap and we'd be off. But instead, He's bringing people to us, working in hearts here and there, working in us and forcing us to be wholly dependent on Him for literally everything. Vehicles, schools, leases, shoes, wisdom teeth, inhalers, meetings, people, security, calling, life and breath... Everything. And seeing that, testifying to it, is worth the missing... painful though it may be.

"I'm gonna go make sawdust," he says after that broody moment we share. Alright then, I think. Onward and upward.



Soundtrack to Irish Broodiness :: Strict Joy, The Swell Season


What makes you broody? And more importantly, what music enhances said broodiness?

1 comment:

  1. First time by your blog and love the header and the byline. I was especially touched by today's post: my husband and I are much the same, and I just had to smile as I read.