"To be, or not to be...it's a question"

During my undergrad, I worked as the Communication Assistant for the community development center at the college I was at.  When I started the position, my supervisor asked me to come up with some job responsibilities, as it was a brand new.  I quickly discovered that I would become a "jack-of-all-trades" for the office, fixing computers, setting up networks and printers, and doing just about everything else that anyone needed in addition to the things that fit inside my job description.  As I fondly remember my undergrad, one thing became clear to me as I thought about my job--I would take on things that I was neither responsible for doing, nor did those roles coincide with what my job was.

A couple of nights ago, I had another encounter with my dad.  Mike, a church member who is letting dad stay at his place while he recovers, was stuck in court and would not be able to pick dad up.  Once again, dad and I had an awkward car ride back to the east side of Knoxville.  After inquiring about my new job and how it was going, dad asked, "Hey, would you mind taking me by Krogers?  I need to grab a few things to eat."

Not wanting to say, "No," and thinking that perhaps spending time with him would maybe start some sort of healing process, I said, "Sure, dad.  No problem." We pulled into the parking lot, got out of the car, and proceeded to walk inside.

"Does this bring back memories," asked dad, referring to the years that we lived on the east side and frequented this same Krogers.

"Yeah...I guess it does."

I went through those automatic doors, my mind going back more than a decade when I weighed much less and was cuter, too.  "Tortillas," said dad. "I need tortillas."  So we ambled on back to the dairy section and on the way there, we ran into Steve Loy.  Steve goes to our church and his wife is helping my mom through this process.

Dad and Steve exchanged greetings.  Steve turned to me and through his thick, handlebar mustache said, "I don't think we've met before.  I'm Steve," and stuck out his hand.

"Aaron." I stuck out my hand, grasping Steve's in a firm grasp.

After our introduction, I bid Steve a good night, turning with dad to hunt down tortillas.  Dad had to grab a few more items before we headed to the self check out lane.

"Dang it! I forgot Diet Coke," huffed dad as he set the few meager items on the scanner.

"I'll get it."

Shuffling back through the line, I did another lap around the store, during which I felt oddly like one of the Nascar drivers that were displayed on more than a few shirts that I'd passed.  Grabbing two bottles for dad, I made my way back to the checkout and bumped back into Steve.

"So how're you holding up" Steve asked.

"Eh...I'm hanging in there."

"I know it's rough.  I had something similar happen when I was your age."

"Really?"

"Yeah. You're the oldest, right?"

"Uh-huh," I nodded.

"Me too.  I always felt like I had to fix things, be stoic, you know, hold the family together."

A lump started to well up in my throat, signaling that tears were due any second.

"I want you to know that you don't have to fix it. This is your parents' time to work things out.  You've had so much put on you that you should have never had put on you in the first place.  You've adopted so many roles that were never yours.  You don't have to be anything for anybody.  You just have to be Aaron."

I felt a weight lift off of my shoulders.

"Aaron, the Diet Cokes!" Dad came and grabbed them from me as I left Steve.

The rest of my night moved in slow motion, as I thought about what Steve had said. "You just have to be Aaron."  I thought to the night before, when mom had talked to me about GiGi--my great-grandfather.  "He treated you as if you were his ONLY grandchild...you two had a special relationship."  Suddenly, I thought about all the times that I would sit in his lap as we watched TV or sipped on Pepsis.  I thought about how GiGi used to take me to a little playground in the middle of the trailer park, where I would climb an old slide that always got too hot during the summer, then slide down into his arms.

Just like that job, I have taken on too many things that were not mine to worry about and attempted to fill roles that I was never meant to fill.  I've become so many things, yet haven't taken the time to be me, to be Aaron.  It's as if God had wanted me to run into Steve, because I'd heard similar things from other people over the last two weeks.  But it didn't hit me until that night, that God doesn't need me to be stoic, or a fixer, or anything other than me.  God just wants me to be me, to sit on his lap, to sip some Pepsi, and to slide down into his arms.  He's not looking for me to perform, or to jump into some self-assigned role. What's important to him and to his heart is for me to be me, for me to be stripped bare of all the things that I've taken on and become.  He wants his child.  He wants the time to for me to sit with him and let him love on me without me rushing off to do something that is ultimately in his hands and is for him to rectify.

He just wants me to climb up into his lap, lay my head on his chest, and be...me.