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Posts Tagged ‘friendship’

Three Things

Posted in Grief, Lent, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 13, 2015| Leave a Comment »

First of all, then, I ask that requests, prayers, petitions, and thanksgiving be made for all people. [I Timothy 2:1, CEB]

While preparing for Lent, I did a lot of reading on the Internet and among the many posts and essays I read, I was taken by two questions (in the spirit of thanks):

  1. What are 3 things I can thankful for in my life today? and
  2. Who are 3 people I can be thankful to have in my life and why?

I think these are good questions we should ask ourselves periodically (if not every day). And so I dedicate this post to them today.

Three Things

  1. healthI am thankful for my health. I suppose that’s a natural thing at my age. The last time I went out to dinner with some of my same-age friends, we did find ourselves bemoaning our aches and pains and talking about our regular we were or weren’t. All of us have had at least one if not two of the required colonoscopies. Absurd in its truth. And yet, I am still grateful. I still have energy and even some to burn. My aches are still minor, I am mobile and can exercise. I am not particularly physical or particularly fit, but I’m not a couch potato nor am I a slug. The last time I went for testing, the nurse was surprised that I only have one (now two) prescriptions which I must take every day, the rest are vitamins by choice. Yah. I’m thankful for grace that keeps me well.
  2. librarianI am thankful for my career. As a librarian I am among people who are interesting and challenging intellectually as well as caring and service-oriented. I am an extrovert among introverts, but I have a significant role among them. As a manager, I have learned patience and tolerance and respect. I have learned to let go of some of my “controlling” nature and watched others grow as a result. My work varies from day to day and year to year. I work and live in my community and as a result, I am known. There is a comfort in this work and I feel appreciated. And of course, I thankful for being gainfully employed which, at this juncture in my life, is critical.
  3. I am thankful for our home. For me, this thanks is bittersweet, as the “house” I have called home for the last 17 years will have to be sold since I can no longer afford it on my new widow’s budget. But it has been a place of warmth and joy, a broad space nestled near a wood where small animals wander and birds nest. Our house is the dream house of a little girl who grew up in a white ghetto where boarders shared our one bathSONY DSCroom and neighbors brawled in the alleys. This house, with its many rooms, was big enough for everyone to have a private space and for children to run outside at any time of day or evening to safely play. This house was big enough to embrace visitors and family and even my elderly mother who died in this house. And my husband, too, died in this house. And several pets. The memories are strong here. We shared half of our married life here and adopted and raised our children here. So many blessings.

Three People

  1. mikeI am thankful for Mike, my husband, with whom I lived for half of my life and who I lost to a heart attack just three months ago, today. We knew each other well. We accepted one another “as is.” We gave up trying to fix each other. We lived an honest life. He was often hard to live with, but he felt the same about me. We disagree on many things, but we agreed we never separate. We honored covenant. And for this, we were secure. I was blessed to know him. And I grieve the loss of him still. And will, I know, for a long time.
  2. SONY DSCI am thankful for my children, of course. Now that they are young adults, they bring a new dimension to my life. And they have journeyed the sorrow of these months with me and they have each matured in inexplicable ways. From being more attentive and helpful to including me more in their lives. I am blessed by their laughter as well as their tears. I am loved and they give me plenty of opportunities to love them back. They want “family” to continue. Whether near or far, they are ever present in my mind and heart and prayers. As they begin to move into their own lives, I cover them in blessings, not only my own, but the ones that their father would say over them as well.
  3. SONY DSCI am thankful for my friend, Kathy, who was with me on the day that Mike died, who spoke into my pain and into my heart and held them both without reserve. We have been friends even longer, since college, we are only seven years shy of a “golden” anniversary. Friendship of this kind is irreplaceable. And really, is she any less family? I don’t think so. For she, too, knows me. And I am grateful for a woman-place to share my thoughts, my complaints, my joys. Our time has been full of all things: weddings, funerals, births, and graduations. We have transitioned together from hot chicks to wise women and everything in between.

Thank you God for this day and this time in my life. Thank you for the memories as well as the future. Thank you for the things and thank you for the people.

And now, you. Give thanks.

 

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Chosen Sister

Posted in Advent, tagged , , , , , , , , , , on December 7, 2011| Leave a Comment »

I’m sure the intention of the phrase, “chosen sister” is that of a sister in the flesh who is also a believer. And yet, for me, something else resonated which makes me want to take a little mind excursion into the value of friendships.

II John 13
The children of your chosen sister send their greetings. [NIV, 1984]

The second letter of John did not hold much new for me. I see it as a very concise review of his first letter as he writes on the importance of loving others, obedience to Christ, and protecting the Spirit from within from deceptions and deceptive people.

However, when I read the last phrase about the lady’s “chosen sister,” a deeper chord struck. I suppose it’s because I don’t have any blood sisters and like most women who don’t, wish I did. There is a bond between sisters that is unique.

On occasion, we all encounter a friend who becomes as close as a sister, or maybe even closer. Those friends were chosen: either by one another or, in the case of the Presence, chosen by God. These relationships are singular and should be cherished.

I have had a few such women friends who have marked my life and I am grateful for them. To them I give testimony this day.

Becky & Mary were girlfriends from high school with whom I walked through a complex time, both personally and culturally. It was the time of agitated civil rights, the Vietnam war, and our own search for identity. The times in which we lived branded us and even after forty years, we are still engaged (no matter how frequently or infrequently) and that link makes us genuinely care about each other as well as our children and the lives they are leading. They are chosen sisters.

In college, I met Kathy, another chosen sister with whom I have experienced great losses and gains, marriages and divorces, fertility and infertility, grief and joy. There have been months, even years, when we lost each other, but the cord was stronger than time we lost and we endured. Our big joke now is that we will age together, rocking on a porch somewhere, hopefully near the ocean or the mountains. Our children continue to be part of both of our lives.

In recent years, Janis & Kathleen have been the women who have walked beside me in faith and trials. They adopted my children, in one case, as a Godparent even, and I know their prayers cover me and my kids in a cloud of light as I do for theirs (which takes longer since they both have five children apiece, LOL). These chosen sisters entered my life through the church, our prayers and worship of the same God bind us too.

Of course, there have been other key sisters that God chose for me: women whose lives crossed mine for a season. Each of them were a blessing that cannot be cast off whether it was for ten years or ten weeks or even less. And there are women today who are in my life but we have not quite “chosen” fully. We love, we care, we connect, but we are not laid bare.

Friendships are harder to sustain in this age. We are either too busy to commit the time it takes to bridge our lives or too insecure to open our arms and expose our hearts. I am guilty.

Every friendship is a gift. And just as I need the Presence of God within, I need you, chosen sister or nearly sister or soon to be sister, on the outside. And you need me. Let us choose more freely.

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Love as Brothers

Posted in Ordinary Time, tagged , , , , , , , , , , on September 10, 2011| 2 Comments »

Of course, not all brothers love each other (or sisters either for that matter), but there is something indelible there. The Amplified translates this phrase: “loving [each other] as brethren [of one household].” The root of believers — operating as a family.

I Peter 3:8
Finally, all of you, live in harmony with one another; be sympathetic, love as brothers, be compassionate and humble.

For some people, the idea of family is riddled with issues, either because of brutal or emotionally handicapped parents or destructive behaviors by individual siblings. These are not people who will gravitate readily to the idea of a “church family.”

Others have close family relationships and they have a different problem: they know the wonder of strong familial ties and often find a group of believers can rarely engender that kind of closeness or trust.

I guess I’m somewhere in the middle, but probably leaning to the first example. My mother was mentally unstable and I never knew from one day to the next what I would awake to. My father died when I was child and I only had one sibling, five years my senior who left the family home for college and never returned in any kind of meaningful way. It was not until we were adults that we developed a truly mutual relationship. So, I confess, I’m not quick to embrace people with whom I am thrown together because we are affiliated with the same church body. It’s a trust issue, I know. I know.

Here’s what should happen anyway (in theory . . . in my mind): believers are bound to one another by their faith in God. This is actually a blood bond because of the nature of the Christ. It does not flow through our veins, but through our Spirit selves.

According to Peter, spiritually-based relationships should have harmony, sympathy (empathy), compassion, and humility. In general, this means deference to the other, concern for the other, sensitivity to the other, and willingness to compromise.

Wait a minute. We could be doing this all the time, church or no church; family or no family; believer or no believer.

These are the basics of “human.” These are the essential ingredients to relationships of all types: with strangers, lovers, or even casual acquaintances. Basics. Love of the first order. Love without strings. Love without labels.

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You Can Trust Them

Posted in Lent, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , on April 13, 2011| 2 Comments »

In several places Paul tells his followers to trust his message because his very life is a testament to his faith. In today’s world, there are those we know and have known, whether they are friends or family, and because we know them, we trust them. Or do we?

II Timothy 3:14
But as for you, continue in what you have learned and have become convinced of, because you know those from whom you learned it, . . .

Trust is a funny thing. It can be taken for granted or it can be nurtured consciously and strengthened over time. The longer and deeper I know someone, the more likely I am to discern whether he/she is trust “worthy.” Relationships are built on trust because people must be transparent to be trusted. Without transparency, the foundations of a relationship are built on sand. And yet, despite, weeks or months or years of building trust, it can be broken with a single word, a single act, a single observation.

As soon as mistrust raises its unholy head, there’s hell to pay. Rebuilding trust after a betrayal (whether perceived or real) takes longer than the first time around. We place the other under the microscope and we find additional reasons to “not” trust. We look for the lie. We look for the secrets. We expect the worst.

I believe this “breaking of trust” moment must be examined carefully and weighed against knowledge and familiarity and love.

In the past week, I have seen three relationships within my immediate family ripped apart (possibly in a permanent way) because of broken trust. Somehow, whatever was known about each other before that moment came, was not enough to stay the doubt and suspicion, to balance the scale of possibilities, to hold the cracks together. Whether it’s teenagers falling in and out love or mature adults running from the possibility of being hurt yet again, the process is the same and one or the other says, “I don’t believe you.”

And then, on top of that, in a public forum, I witnessed palpable abusiveness and accusations because of a perceived certainty that trust was broken. I wanted to stand up and yell, “Stop! You’re talking about my friend, you’re calling into question the integrity of someone I have known for twenty years.” I trust my friend. I trust my friend’s intentions. And it hurt me to watch the bubbling cauldron of bitterness and rejection. The words were different, but it sounded the same, “I don’t believe you.”

And that’s when I saw it, this moment of decision, to stand by what has been shared and spoken before, to remember the conviviality and the good intentions, to hold fast to the history. . . or not.

Paul tells Timothy to trust in the truth of what he has learned from his mentor, from his friends, and from his family. This is Paul’s last letter to his protege. Many, many people attacked Paul in the same way that the authorities attacked Jesus. They called them liars, fakes, and charlatans. They called them destroyers and divisive elements in the faith.

Who will we choose to trust in that moment when the vase is about to shatter? Who will we believe?

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Grace & Salt Conversations

Posted in Ordinary Time, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on January 22, 2011| Leave a Comment »

Salt is a seasoning that makes things taste better through its chemical interactions with the food. And yet, in this age of health anxiety, we have started to withhold salt from our diet even though exercise could be just as effective. Have we removed salt from conversations too?

Colossians 4:6
Let your conversation be always full of grace, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how to answer everyone.

When was the last time I sat around with some people and just talked? I mean talked about ideas and possibilities, spirituality or sorrow, hope or despair. When has the conversation started heading one way and my comments moved it another, giving it a new flavor, a new point of view . . . with grace.

Now, I don’t mean those times when proselytizing starts or the 4 Spiritual Laws pamphlets come out of the handbag or a litany of “Praise the Lords” drop in after every remark like a Greek chorus or HipHop melody.

I’m interested in knowing if the truth of me, Spirit-filled and intertwined with the Christ within, has acted as a true flavoring, bringing out the best in others while giving grace and acceptance to any hardened hearts around me.

So much is out there that teaches us how to control a conversation, close the deal, get to “yes,” influence, convince or convert people, win friends, or filibuster until people can’t stand it anymore.

When my daughter, new to this country at 15, went to high school with little or no English, she bemoaned how hard it was to make friends. We chalked it up to ESL (English as a Second Language) and assumed things would get better as her language skills improved. And to some degree that was true and yet, it never became easy for her. Truthfully, I am amazed teenagers have any friends at all considering that most of their conversations tend to be about themselves and rarely about the other, unless they are drilling down into the behavior, looks, attitude or boyfriend of a mutual “other” (i.e. gossiping).

I shared with her a handy book I found called How to Start a Conversation and Make Friends by Don Gabor. I encouraged her to try the author’s technique but she found it unmanageable. And why? Because the essence of his technique was to ask lots of questions about the other person and listen to the answers. It’s letting go of feeling it necessary to reciprocate data for data, fact for fact, personal story for personal story. This is the grace part of conversation.

Perhaps it’s time for me to reread this book myself. Or maybe, like here, scripture has been saying it all along: Grace and salt, kindness and joy, love and humor, forgiveness and knowledge, patience and wisdom.

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Make Room

Posted in Ordinary Time, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , on August 4, 2010| Leave a Comment »

In the end, there is only one person who can “make room” and that’s the individual herself. If someone else does it for you, it’s usually a violation of space. It’s no different with the heart.

II Corinthians 7:2a, 3
Make room for us in your hearts. . . . I do not say this to condemn you; I have said before that you have such a place in our hearts that we would live or die with you.

I’ll never forget the time I moved down to Atlanta from Indianapolis. Mike and I were engaged and although we had hoped to find a temporary living arrangement for me, it turned out I had to move into his house. While packing up, I could tell there was a lot of stuff. I tried to warn him. He would have to “make room” for me and my belongings. It was a small three-bedroom house but I insisted he clean out one of the bedrooms for me.

But, like most men, he couldn’t foresee the amount of boxes I would bring or the chaos that would come from merging two adult households. Did he make room? He did not. So, the very next day, while he was at work, I cleaned out one of the rooms and put all of it in the TV room. I created space for myself.

Needless to say, he was not a happy camper. I thought he would be thrilled. I did all that work. I organized and moved and emptied almost all of the boxes from the living room and dining room and integrated my kitchen stuff into his (he only had 2 knives, 2 forks, and 2 spoons anyway). But I was “creating” room for me instead of allowing him to “make room.”

Friendships are the same way. There comes a point when we have to “make room” for another person in the heart. Sometimes, we have to open the doors and sweep out some of the old stuff to make room. We may have to get rid of things we’ve been holding onto for a long time.

When it comes to the things of God, it’s the same thing. We have to open up. We have to invite. God only takes up as much space in the heart as we allow. Unlike the dark side that creeps and steals and occupies wherever and whenever we’re not minding the space.

Help me today, oh God, to make room for more of You. Help me to make room for others. It’s time to clean house.

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Heart Laid Bare

Posted in Ordinary Time, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 18, 2010| Leave a Comment »

The right words at the right moment touch the heart and something happens. It can be a moment in a play or a movie, a speech or a book, even a casual conversation or in the midst of instruction. And when that word pierces the inner self, we are changed.

I Corinthians 14:24-25a
But if an unbeliever or someone who does not understand comes in while everybody is prophesying, he will be convinced by all that he is a sinner and will be judged by all, and the secrets of his heart will be laid bare.

I saw this happen some years ago while in a church service. I had a friend who had been struggling with lifestyle decisions. He was like a feather being tossed about, looking for a safe place to land. I invited him to a Vineyard church service in Atlanta (back then, such services were cutting edge and specifically geared for the younger set). After the service, one of the guys asked my friend if a small group could pray for him and my friend agreed. It was during this prayer that someone in the group spoke a “prophecy” over my friend about an impending choice in his life. She told him of his past and his fears. She spoke specifics about his life and my friend’s heart was laid bare. It was the most amazing thing to observe. He knew, in that moment, beyond any doubt, that he had been touched by the divine.

That day is seared into my own memory, not only because of the time in church, but the deep soul searching my friend had the rest of the afternoon. He would go through periods of shaking and crying and even laughing. He would sit silently and then he would talk, deeply and honestly, about his life, his future, his mistakes, his losses, his hopes and his disappointments. He turned a corner that day and for many years, he followed a new dream because of that day.

I remember a different experience, also in my late twenties, when my own heart was ripped wide open. It is not a particularly pleasant memory as it was a searing, rending of emotions that brought me to my knees. I had only been a follower of Christ for about two years when I had a terrible row with a creative, yet highly volatile man, with whom I was trying to build a dance/theater company in New York. His harsh words stripped me bare of any illusions about my craft, my direction, my role. I left our rehearsal and walked the parking lot, sobbing, crying out to God, stripping myself of assumptions, and casting myself at the feet of Christ. That day changed my path forever.

When the heart is truly laid bare, it can happen gently with love or it can happen with wrenching pain. Often, the pain comes from our own efforts to keep the heart’s shield up, to attempt to protect ourselves.

“Lift up your heads, O you gates; be lifted up, you ancient doors, that the King of glory may come in.” [Psalm 24:7] For me, this verse refers to the gates and ancient doors of my heart that must be open to allow the King of glory to come in. I have to trust God will not hurt me. I have to permit entry. And only when my heart is laid bare, the doors open, can I be renewed.

I would like to report that my heart has been open the whole time since that fateful day, but it has not. In fact, each time my heart has been trashed by someone, I tend to add locks and bars to those doors. God forgive me.

Today, I am being called to begin this process once more: the unlocking of doors, the lifting up of gates, the laying bare of my inner heart again. It’s a risk. It’s always a risk. It’s another paradox: to find safety, I must be more vulnerable. So be it.

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