Who Would You Call?

Who would you call at 2:00 in the morning?

I've been thinking about that question lately. Not who you would call for a ride to the airport or to borrow something from, but who you would call when life has suddenly become very hard. When something has happened and you don't know what to do next. When you need someone to answer the phone, listen, make you laugh, or simply remind you that you aren't alone.

I know who I would call.

My dear friend Dominic is one of my 2:00 a.m. people. He lives nearly 1,000 miles away, so he isn't the person who could physically show up at my door. But I know he would answer. He has been there for me during some of the hardest moments of my life, somehow knowing when I need someone to listen, when I need perspective, and when what I really need is to laugh.

But Dominic is only one part of my support system, and I think that's important.

We often talk about having a "support system" as though it is one clearly defined group of people, or as though the people closest to us should somehow be able to meet all of our needs. But I'm not sure that's how support actually works.

The people who hold us up can come from so many different places in our lives. They can be family, but they don't have to be. They might be friends we've known for decades, neighbors we see every day, coworkers who understand a particular part of our lives, or people who came into our lives unexpectedly and became important to us along the way.

And different people can support us in different ways.

Last year, when Steve was in a bike accident, I relied on friends and neighbors who could show up in ways I needed at that moment. Sometimes support is emotional—the person who will stay on the phone while you cry or sit beside you without trying to make anything better. Sometimes it is practical—the person who will give you a ride, bring dinner, walk the dog, pick something up, or take one small thing off your plate when everything feels like too much.

We don't necessarily need one person who can do all of those things. In fact, expecting one person to meet every need may leave us overlooking the network of people already surrounding us.

I think there is value in considering that network before life becomes difficult. Who can sit with you without trying to fix anything? Who stays calm when things get hard? Who can you ask for practical help? Who makes you laugh? Who makes you feel less alone? And who would you call at 2:00 in the morning?

Maybe an equally important question is: Do they know?

I don't always find it easy to ask for help. I suspect I'm not alone in that. There can be something vulnerable about admitting that we can't manage everything ourselves. But the more life I live, the more I understand that needing other people isn't a failure of independence. It's part of being human.

And perhaps part of having a support system isn't simply knowing who our people are. It's letting them know, too. Telling someone, You are one of the people I know I can call. Telling the neighbor who showed up how much that mattered. Telling the friend who always seems to know what you need that their presence has made difficult moments a little easier to carry.

Because when life changes suddenly, it can be difficult to figure out what we need, let alone who to ask. Knowing our people ahead of time doesn't make the hard moments less hard, but it can remind us that we don't have to carry them entirely on our own.

So this week's reflection is dedicated to my friend Dominic—my 2:00 a.m. friend. The friend who has walked beside me through some of my hardest moments, who seems to know what I need even when I don't quite know myself, and who can almost always find a way to make me laugh.

I hope he knows what that has meant to me.

And maybe that's something worth thinking about this week: Who are your 2:00 a.m. people—and do they know?