The Wealth of Friendship

This morning, I wrote brief letters to some friends who each face intense heartbreak. My own troubles are light in comparison with theirs. I was going to write about hardship, forgiveness, and grace today, but as I reread the first two lines of this post, I see that I am rich with something that makes all our troubles bearable: friends.


I have close friends from every state in which I have lived. I have strong relationships with people that even if we have not spoken recently, they could be called upon for advice, prayer requests, or simple uplifting. For those of you who read this with whom I have not been in contact regularly, I sincerely apologize. Please note this does not mean you are far from my heart.

I have a close friend from the West that I have known since we were first-graders. In my head, I still visualize her as a double pony-tailed wispy blonde-haired little sprite. She is now a chicly coiffed professional and a single-mother. We don’t speak often, but when we do, we pick up as though we saw each other yesterday. My college girlfriend lives in the deepest South and has been a rock for get-real advice and for sheltering me at my worst and lowest moment. She has been a model for true Christianity in respect to her being able to love me when she could not understand how much in denial I was about the problems in first marriage. There is another lady friend in the Northeast, whom I also met in college, but we bonded some time after graduation. I sheltered her when her husband was serving overseas and she needed help with her son, who struggled with autism. What I learned from her was that people who are worried sick about their children can withdraw from a more public life as a protective measure; I was able to recognize it in myself when it started happening to me. We speak often. We are usually going through the same problem at the same time.

There is a couple that resided with me as neighbors in one state, and then after their move to the Midwest, my now-ex-husband and I ended up relocating an hour away from them. I will never forget hiding out from tornadoes in their basement, cooking together, or making stained glass art with my girlfriend. Her husband has always doted on my daughter (and now sends goodies to my son since his birth after we moved), told me funny stories, and talked to me as a real person. He never once ignored me or disregarded my opinion due to my gender (some men have a real talent for not “seeing” their friends’ wives.) He is a brother. When they visited here this summer, my husband and I were not quite ourselves. I have felt bothered by this ever since, but I think, given the history of their ceaseless love and support, that they understand families have ups and downs. They will love me as best they can from afar. I cherish this. Another friend from that same area was always a mentor for motherhood. She helped me care for my then-baby-daughter, guided me spiritually, and gave honest, but gentle childrearing feedback. We spoke recently when I needed parenting advice, which she gave me willingly and lovingly. Her influence on my daughter still runs strong today.

In my last state of residence, I had the unique experience of bonding with a Bible study women’s group, who supported me through separation and divorce. I also had good neighbors on my street with whom I still share great rapport (although I owe one of them a phone call before he shoots me). These neighbors, and my sister, bonded as a group. We still circulate support for each other almost in the form of a rally. Their obstacles, their hardships have made each of us more aware of our impact on others, how to support without judgment, how to live when under public scrutiny, and when I am with them, I feel so much love that I think nothing gets better than this. They have known me specifically through the birth of my son, the end of my first marriage, and witnessed the romance with my current husband. They gladly celebrated our remarriage. Last year, when we were up to my ears in legal troubles, they were incredibly positive and uplifting.

I tell my daughter that I am so rich. I may have lost my former homes or any financial assets I could have had, and sometimes my financial outlook is really scary, but I have never had more love. My own husband, who began as a friend himself, and was part of my family long before we ever married, has his own story, his own deep and abiding love despite the fact that I am over-sensitive, analytical to a fault, afraid of conflict, and exhausted from the responsibility of motherhood (which makes my first three flaws worse). He would rather blame himself than allow me to take the heat, even when I clearly deserve the blame.

I love you all. Don’t give up on me. I think of each of you daily. I hope I can honor you the way you have honored me with your loyalty. You all make living, not just bearable and worthwhile, but beautiful and joyful.

Toxic Friendships

One day last year, I had a conversation with my daughter about toxic friendships.


“You know that kid at school that makes you crazy? She tries to be your friend and the whole thing is just wrong and bad for you? But you cannot figure out how to get rid of her?”

“Yeah,” said my little girl.

“I have one of those.”

“Oh, that’s bad,” she said, “real bad.”

I told her that there are many problems one encounters as a young person. I said you may grow older and more mature, but the obstacles still occur. This was not good news to her, but I assured her that moments like this are good learning experiences for future relationships. Over coffee and tea we discussed what to do about toxic people and what was happening with her own less-than-desirable relationship. Time resolved both of our problematic relationships. Eventually, my daughter stopped clashing with this other child at school, and the two could offer friendly hellos and move about in similar circles. In fact, they are together in class again this year, seem to be getting along better, and the other child’s mother has requested a playdate.

My own toxic friendship wasn’t just uncomfortable; it was frightening. A woman I had met at a children’s event became my walking partner for a very short time. She fairly quickly had alluded to her recent recovery from some kind of a mental episode. I was compassionate and non-judgmental at first, but as time grew, I became incredibly concerned. She exhibited difficult behaviors and told terrible stories about herself and her relationships. She could not interpret her friends’ actions as what they were—reactions to someone who behaves unpredictably and irrationally. The last time I walked with her, her dog lunged and snapped at a passing jogger. My then-friend repeatedly whipped her dog with the leash--in front of me, in the presence of others, and without an iota of remorse, shame, or sense of awkwardness.

Horrified, I went home as soon as I could. In the next several days, I neither initiated a call nor returned hers. Finally I did leave a message for her—that I was thinking about her, but was unable to commit to walking at this time. My answer was truthful, but I was not completely honest. I thought about telling her why we could not be friends, but no amount of honesty would have changed the situation, improved her future relationships, or made things ok. She was too far past the point of return. In fact, my telling her she scared the hell out of me may have invited more trouble than this family needed.

This past summer, I ran into her while exploring an historic part of town. My former friend had not even recognized me. In fact, wild-eyed and at least twenty pounds lighter than she once was, she was barely recognizable herself. Out of politeness, I stopped to say hello, but her conversation was strange and confused. She was almost as disheveled as some of the street people in the area.

Thankfully, I have never heard from her since, and that door to the potential relationship has officially closed. I cannot help but wish her well and hope that one day her interior light is restored and her reality includes healthy relationships. Sometimes, that well wishing is the best we can offer.

Feathers and Friends

Every morning since spring, Herbert and Frances rifle through the grass of the front yard. These mourning doves are usually accompanied by one squirrel in particular, Chuck. Today, Chuck was not around. Curious about whether or not he had another social engagement, I began to wonder about documented social relationships among these critters.


Acccording to http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mourning_Dove, the doves are likely a mated pair (BFFs that forage for seeds more than they would insects, surprisingly), but nothing was really said about the relationship between the birds. Most other sites said the birds mate for life, but one claimed their relationships last seven to ten years. Interestingly, the birds will find a new mate if they lose their current love to death. I don’t suppose divorce is an option, but then these birds shun relationships outside their pairing, thus likely removing the temptation to get it on with a nesting neighbor.

But what about Herbert and Francie’s relationship with Chuck? Is this some kind of bizarre animal kingdom threesome? Squirrels are usually considered a threat to birds’ nests, and unlike doves, they don’t bond with a pair, but have multiple complex social relationships. Maybe, in this magical neighborhood, Chuck extended his usual network to include Herbert and Francie due certain commonalities. In fact, recently we did see an incredulous episode among birds, one unfortunate squirrel, and a local hawk. The birds did their best to chase off the hawk, who ignored them completely from his roost on a phone pole. The beast then shocked everyone by dipping suddenly in flight, picking a squirrel off my back fence, and returning to his roost with the fresh entree to dine. The birds never stopped harassing this predatory intruder. Maybe, they even sent the late squirrel’s family some flowers. You just never know around here.

There are anomalies in every group of wildlife everywhere-- things we cannot explain. I have been quite amused by Chuck’s foraging alongside Herbert and Frances this year, and I am hoping desperately that Chuck did not become a meal for the hawk, as this is not my first sighting of such a thing here. The doves, however, did not seem to be fretting too terribly over the absence of their fluffy tailed friend.

By the way, I did come across this wonderfully amusing article about what squirrels think of human behavior. You should visit here to read http://www.rawreform.com/content/view/344/127/.

Noted sites in the quest for dove behavior are below, just in case you were curious:

http://www.50birds.com/BPMourningDove.htm

http://www.dnr.state.mn.us/snapshots/birds/mourningdove.html

Bond, Rabbit, Bond

You will not believe this, but the rabbit has forged a bond with my husband. I watched the little critter dance right up to the cage door and nudge a certain human hand for affection.


“Rabbit,” I said to the little fellow later, “it appears as though you and the other feeder have a bit of friendly dialogue going these days.”

“Preposterous!” announced the rabbit.

“I was there, the food bowl was full, the water bottle was full, and you still had half a novel left to read. You needed nothing but creature comforts and conversation.”

The rabbit whuffled a bit, twitched his whiskers, and turned one big brown eye toward me.

“Maybe,” he winked.

What possibly could have brought on this change? My husband insists that nothing is afoot other than simple could fellowship. I did see him gift the rabbit a stalk of celery this weekend, in fact. Maybe gratitude is at play once and for all. Simple gestures go a long way even with the smallest creatures.