Great Expectations of Friendship {And Why We Don’t Have Them}

PicMonkey Collage friends-1

We sat this week in our gym clothes and tennis shoes, nine of us talking about friendship and what makes one sweet. And the overriding word that resonated is expectations. Friends don’t have them, we all agreed. We just know and believe and that faith in each other, it roots deep in the intimacy of long lasting friendship.

I sat in my seat, rubbing the ViBella jewelry my best friend just bought me earlier that week, at a retreat where a piece of my heart still resides. She took it back to exchange it before giving it to me, thinking she was being indecisive in her thoughtfulness. But God nudged her to do it.

Because when I opened it, she gave me the same necklace a kindred soul picked for herself and only God knew it came with a message. A confirmation for each of us that yes, He has something in mind for our friendship. He was already speaking to each of us individually, picking us out among the crowds and bringing our random thoughts together, our mouths drawn open in the serendipity. That necklace wasn’t just a random pick, it is a sacred and holy gift. A reminder that God speaks through friendship. The water that makes our lives bloom with vibrant beauty.

I told all nine about the way my friend reminds me continually, with love and honesty, of how God loves me one person at a time. She points out words and phrases, turning seemingly random moments into everyday miracles.  Miracles I sluff off as ordinary kindness and “Oh, she probably says that to everyone.”

And as I listen to the stories from nine in my hometown, peeling back layers of friendship, I get a text from a friend on the other side of the country. We’re known by each other, we shared community before kids, house payments and writing. She’s telling me what the Lord said to her on my behalf as she prays earnestly for me as a writer. It’s something we do for each other daily.

I think about the tears I’ve shed over these past ten years, of loneliness and lack of friendship in my back yard. “Why God, don’t I have friends like this where I grocery shop and garden?”

Then I realize the gift. That heart friendship transcends place and time. He handpicks the beauty and extends his arm holding a vibrant bouquet of unique soul ties. Their color and texture exactly what my heart longs for. The flower of friendship doesn’t just come from the grocery store, each beautiful stem is handpicked near a copse, in a tiny ravine, on the windy shores of the sea at the moment when the light hits the face of God, at just the right time. 

Expectations don’t come with the friends God chooses. And that is what makes them sweet.

5_minute_friday

 

I’m joining Lisa-Jo for Five Minute Friday today on the one word prompt: Friend. I just couldn’t resist after a week of reveling in it.

What have you learned about friendship as it evolves and changes with the seasons of life?

 

Geese, Girlfriends and Graceful Gifts

It was the serendipity of it all. The way I wrote about the geese collecting outside my cottage window after a storm and then she commented about the book she was reading.  “But this reminds me of that book, and of how little in life goes the way we had planned, and how opening yourself up is the best way of all…” Deidra said.

It was like threading a bead on the necklace of moments with His imprint attached. I wore the words around my neck for days.

Life’s dealt a bevy of disappointments over the past year. Dreams swirl down the drain in the turned backs of the faithful, leaving fragments of soapy bubbles clinging the sides of the sink. And I think about her words. How little in life goes the way we plan, but opening yourself up is the best way of all.

I’m practicing this like a daily sacrament at the altar.

I step into the musty smell of floor to ceiling paperbacks, ask the saleslady with the fuschia lips if they have that book, the one that sparked the comment thread. She tells me it shows up on the computer that they have one copy. It’s not on the shelf. We scour the back of the store, the middle, the back room. Nothing.

She puts me on the list, in case someone brings in a used copy.

And as I place my stack on the counter, behind the tourist with the ponytail and Coppertone perfume, the saleslady holds up the book I was looking for, in the tourist’s stack. “Is this the one you were looking for,” she smiles over the top of our heads.

It’s why we couldn’t find it, it was already on the counter waiting to go home with someone else.

The tourist turns to me and says, “Here you can have it.”

No, I tell her shaking my head. You take it, I have plenty to read.

She insists, pushing the book into my hands. And I take it. Tell her its my birthday and I’ll consider her kindness as a gift. Her children sigh in unison, like their getting a gift too.

And that graceful gesture of a stranger, it was like the play of kindness acted out for an audience of strangers, Jesus in the leading role. That saleslady, she remembers it in her eyes, every time I go to the store.

Because little in life goes the way we plan, but opening yourself up is the best way of all. You never know what the kindness of Jesus might look like on you today.

Joining the Five Minute Friday community with the one word prompt: Graceful. Let’s be honest, it was a tad over five minutes for me today.

 

When You’re Too Busy to Notice

It’s been almost a week since we lost my brother. My Dad woke up somewhere in the middle with the reality that he no longer has a son. And it made my lip quiver, but I sucked it back in. Those words he said to me, they reveal a parents greatest fear.

He told me how he sat with him in the last moments before that body he hugged for almost four decades returned to dust. Hung his head in grief and told decaying flesh he would join him soon. Because eternity stands close by, in the beating hearts of men.

Sometimes you get so close to life you can’t see it. Like the photo on my banner of an empty bottle holding a rose plucked from overgrown summer. It hung there on an ordinary laundry day, catching my eye in filtered afternoon sun on my dining room table. But to you, it’s just a picture.

And just like that rose, today’s beauty wilts away, so new life can takes its place. We’re all ready to shake the hand of new, but maybe we’re too busy to see it standing outside the front door in the rain.

Your life won’t always be this way, He whispers, while I pull glasses from the top shelf. Layer the memories in a box to give away to someone in need.

He’s challenging me to dream. To dream about what my life will look like a year from now. In two years, ten years, even twenty-five like Rip Van Winkle awakening from slumber. Are you dreaming too?

It’s then that I realize I’m stuck on the merry-go-round of routine. Of days ending sprawled out tired and future plans stalled on hold. And those clumps of mundane moments, they join together to create a nest awaiting the promise of new life.

I want to be standing next to the eggs when they hatch, ready to feed hungry mouths. Because eternity stands close by, in the beating hearts of men.

Do you dream about your future in the midst of the everyday? I’d love to hear about it.

He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end. ~Ecclesiastes 3:11 NIV

Your kindness continues to overwhelm. The shower of genuine kindness and consolation from those who  stopped by this week and held my hand in prayer, is like a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day. Thank you for your continued prayers as we navigate a memorial service on August 31st with family and friends. And if you’re stopping by for the first time, I’ve written about the facets of grief here and here this week. I pray that the words be a comfort, as grief is loss, not only in death.

The Truth About Friendship Poverty

When you unplug from the world for two weeks to connect with the ones you pushed into the world and the man who vows to do life with you forever, you wonder if everyone else will forget about you.  Will two weeks of silence with the outside world mean your essence will evaporate into a distant memory for all the others?

The sun still sleeps and I’m lying in bed with my eyes open, thinking about this day, my birthday. We’re in a season of friendship poverty.  The kind that laughs tears, knows what you did yesterday, finishes sentences, reads your sadness without needing words and brings you a latte in the middle of the day.

It’s okay, He told me it would be this way for a while. But I’m preparing for the silence on a day when there should be confetti and noise blowers and cake crumbs laying all over the coffee table.

He asks me the same question I’ve written about all week, the one that echoes over dirty dishes, grocery carts and cut flowers. “What do you want me to do for you . .  on your birthday,” Jesus asks.

I want to know your presence, feel you with me today in a tangible way, I tell him. Because is there a better birthday gift than this?

He answers in phone calls from voices I haven’t heard in months, random conversations with strangers in Ann Taylor Loft and the used bookstore. In text messages about taking walks, emails from distant relatives, and over 100 birthday wishes from friends far away.

And when I end my day couched among gift bags, crumpled tissue paper and the ones that own my heart, I close my eyes and thank Him for the way He connected with me.  Because in friendship poverty comes the realization that He’s the best friend you’ll ever have. He finishes all my sentences.

This post is a bit of an uneditted continuation of posts inspired by the Circle Maker by Mark Batterson posted on Monday and Wednesday.

Linking with Lisa-Jo for Five Minute Friday with the one word prompt: Connect and with Michelle for Graceful Summer.

 

Dancing With Destiny

My daughter’s suitcase smells like Jamaican red clay mixed with sweat,rainwater and salvation. Dirty t-shirts lay intertwined with hand painted canvas, murals of palms and sea.  The beauty of poverty brought home and the lilt of her voice reveals an exchange of the wallflower ticket for a dance with the King.

She’s smitten.

She waxes long of bumpy bus rides, steep hills and carrying concrete blocks. The way the local boy works beside them joyful. Because it’s his house they built.  Of enthusiastic eyes of an evangelist, tender words and hearts draped over altars. Conversations that fill empty trenches.

And with each scoop of dirty clothes into the washer, the fragrance of Jesus permeates perspective. It’s in the experience of getting our hands and feet dirty with the soot of the world that we understand our need to be clean.

He’s twirling her around in laughter on the dance floor now, her dress swaying in His embrace. And the fragrance of Jesus, it smells beautiful on her.

Let them praise his name in dance; strike up the band and make great music! And why? Because God delights in his people, festoons plain folk with salvation garlands! ~Psalm 149:3, MSG

My humble thanks to those of you who gave to my sweet daughter in prayer and deed so she could experience this mission trip to Jamaica.

Ever taken a mission trip? How did it change you?

Linking with Lisa-Jo for Five Minute Friday with the one word prompt: Dance.

And joining Graceful Summer with Michelle today too.

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If You’re Not Taking Risks, Maybe You Should Be

I read on Facebook recently, someone explaining why they left one church group for another. They said they changed because things were more comfortable and secure with the new group. It got me thinking. Really? Is that what we sign up for as Christ followers – to be comfortable and secure?

Can you show me anywhere in the Bible where Jesus values comfort and security over laying down your life (John 15:13)? Where He says the top three things to bring you happiness are to be around people like you, make a lot of money, and be secure?

Tell that to the woman in Rwanda who worships next to the one who murdered her entire family in the genocide and then forgave her for it because she loves Jesus. Do you think she decided to follow Jesus because she wanted to be more comfortable? I don’t think so.

And what about the family who gave up everything they had to adopt a boy from Africa? The parents who struggle with language and cultural transitions every day because they heard Jesus say, “When you do it to the least of these, you do it to me.” (Matthew 25:40) Do you think they grabbed onto some comfort and security when they said yes?

Being a Christ follower is risky business.  He says things that are hard like, “For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me and for the gospel will save it.” (Matthew 16:25)

He also says things like “I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will live, even though he dies.” (John 11:25)

I took a risk when I decided to follow Jesus as an adolescent. Because my spirit knew that there was more to life than what I experienced in a broken home of alcoholism, drug abuse and sexual promiscuity. 

I believe Him when says he is the way, the truth, and the life (John 14:6). And I will continue to risk, than to follow the empty promises of comfort and security.

Why do you follow Jesus?

Joining Lisa-Jo for Five Minute Friday with the one word prompt: Risk. And pushing publish on this one is an embodiment of the word itself.

I’m also talking about sacred space over at Journey to Epiphany today. Come on over and join the conversation, link up your post, and read some great writers.