Before I share my heart with you, and you, in your infinite wisdom of me, decide whether or not I should be on meds or perhaps assume I have not been taking the ones I have been prescribed, please note that these experiences are from my very own near-sighted viewpoint. They are mine alone. You do not have to agree with me, but my hope is that you will be kind.
If there is anything I will ask God as I someday enter into the gates of heaven, it will be this: "Why was friendship so hard?" He will know exactly what I'm talking about because it has been no picnic for him to make friends with us either. We are fickle and sometimes downright mean. We say we are friends with God when all is well, but turn against him when the bottom falls out of life. Somehow I have always managed to have faith, though I have often wondered how it has remained possible.
My first best friend was a little boy who lived on a neighboring farm. It may have been a friendship of convenience since his mother and my mother took turns driving us into town so we could go to the parochial school for first grade, but I would like to think we were friends because we enjoyed spending time together playing in the barn and eating peanut butter sandwiches. I knew when we became friends with a girl who lived closer to his farm than to mine there was a chance he would like her better than he liked me, especially when she chose to roll down the hill with him in that barrel and I never could find the courage to do so. But kids play together with different friends at different times and as long as no one is outwardly mean, it seems to all work out until everyone has to go home for supper.
Perhaps due to my introverted nature, I always seemed to veer toward the best friend model for friendship, since being in groups has never lent itself to getting beyond the small talk in order to know someone in greater depth by asking questions that matter. This worked great for high school and even for the last part of college. These two women are still my friends. They know me in ways others have never known me or probably ever will. They know me for who I am when I'm not trying to fit in. They know my strengths and my weaknesses, where I have come from and some of the life experiences that have shaped the way I look at life. Even though I am not particularly like them in every way, together we are better than we are as individuals.
I married a friend, which I would highly recommend since a conversation that is going to last for decades had better be an interesting one. And though there is the temptation to marry someone similar to yourself, the man I married has a personality more similar to those of my closest female friends and for that reason we are able to complement each other and not compete. (Sometimes we do compete, but not on our best days.)
What happens next is the part I have trouble understanding. We have old friends we see at reunions, and friends we see at church and even better friends who have parties in our honor; we have work friends and acquaintance-type friends, and make new friends once in awhile randomly, but just when I think I know what is going on, I am left without a clue. What I am referring to specifically is the dreaded making-it-on-the-list sort of friendship that gets one into parties and weddings.
I have learned that if I am not invited to the birthday party, I will not be invited to the graduation party. It follows that I will then not be invited to the bridal shower, the wedding or the reception. When the happy couple reproduces, I will not get invited to the baby shower or ever get to see their child. Why would this be important since I was not involved in any of their other special events? I cannot answer that nor can I predict which list I will end up on, if any at all.
Seeking answers, I have googled a number of articles explaining the etiquette needed to navigate these events that can be accessed by invitation only. Brides and grooms should pick which of their friends they would like to see at their wedding but their parents' friends should not be allowed to come, one article stated. Another pointed out the obvious: it is not possible to include everyone. It is cost prohibitive and makes no sense to invite everyone one has ever known. One article qualifies it by stating that if one has had no contact with someone for a specific amount of time, that person does not get let in to celebrate the couple's special day. I wonder if the determination for who gets chosen would be better handled by some kind of online quiz since there does not seem to be any kind of rating system that could provide a more scientific result.
Maybe the invitation process should be handled more like a college application. I know I could write a convincing essay about how I love weddings more than most people do and would even be willing to assist where needed. I could record every encounter I have had with those about to tie the knot, the prayers I've spoken on their behalf, the needs I've brought before others for their benefit. If I could somehow prove my loyalty as a friend and my commitment to the family to uphold them in all future endeavors and even give the newborn child they will someday have a bed bunny (which is the very best gift any child could ever have since I created it myself), I may stand a chance of getting in. But the "friend" who does not make the list has no voice.
There is now a website called The Knot which I have stalked to vicariously participate in the impending nuptials I will never get to witness in person. I can see when and where the ceremony will be and dream about the beauty of the day. I get to know when and where the reception is in case I decide to get drunk and crash it. (Just kidding--sort of.) And I even get to see their registries and all the cool gifts the happy couple will receive as I try to forget the design of the homemade gift I was going to make. I stop shopping for the dress I will not need to wear. I free up my calendar with a date I was never supposed to save.
Life moves on. Once everything is professionally photographed, it will appear on Facebook and I will get to see not only how beautiful the bride is, but will inevitably catch a glimpse of someone in the background who made the list when I did not. I will wonder about that friend's credentials. What was it that afforded that person entry into the best day of their lives when I was not deemed worthy? Maybe that person was willing to roll down the hill in the barrel with them when I was not. I may never know.
I have started joking to myself that I must be bad luck--the kind no one wants at their wedding. I have not received an invitation to a wedding in over four years and even then I had to negotiate with a relative of the bride's to be given a chance at the open bar and to be handed a sparkler to see off the newlyweds. I knew I deserved to be there and yet question myself when that fact is obvious to no one but me.
If there is anything that sets me straight again after all of this needless worry, it is the idea that after I walk through those pearly gates, ask God the tough question about friendship, and we have a good laugh together, he will usher me over to the banquet table where I will find a place setting with my name on the place card. I will sit down as an invited guest, fashionably dressed for eternity, and chosen to be on the list of his friends.
If there is anything I will ask God as I someday enter into the gates of heaven, it will be this: "Why was friendship so hard?" He will know exactly what I'm talking about because it has been no picnic for him to make friends with us either. We are fickle and sometimes downright mean. We say we are friends with God when all is well, but turn against him when the bottom falls out of life. Somehow I have always managed to have faith, though I have often wondered how it has remained possible.
My first best friend was a little boy who lived on a neighboring farm. It may have been a friendship of convenience since his mother and my mother took turns driving us into town so we could go to the parochial school for first grade, but I would like to think we were friends because we enjoyed spending time together playing in the barn and eating peanut butter sandwiches. I knew when we became friends with a girl who lived closer to his farm than to mine there was a chance he would like her better than he liked me, especially when she chose to roll down the hill with him in that barrel and I never could find the courage to do so. But kids play together with different friends at different times and as long as no one is outwardly mean, it seems to all work out until everyone has to go home for supper.
Perhaps due to my introverted nature, I always seemed to veer toward the best friend model for friendship, since being in groups has never lent itself to getting beyond the small talk in order to know someone in greater depth by asking questions that matter. This worked great for high school and even for the last part of college. These two women are still my friends. They know me in ways others have never known me or probably ever will. They know me for who I am when I'm not trying to fit in. They know my strengths and my weaknesses, where I have come from and some of the life experiences that have shaped the way I look at life. Even though I am not particularly like them in every way, together we are better than we are as individuals.
I married a friend, which I would highly recommend since a conversation that is going to last for decades had better be an interesting one. And though there is the temptation to marry someone similar to yourself, the man I married has a personality more similar to those of my closest female friends and for that reason we are able to complement each other and not compete. (Sometimes we do compete, but not on our best days.)
What happens next is the part I have trouble understanding. We have old friends we see at reunions, and friends we see at church and even better friends who have parties in our honor; we have work friends and acquaintance-type friends, and make new friends once in awhile randomly, but just when I think I know what is going on, I am left without a clue. What I am referring to specifically is the dreaded making-it-on-the-list sort of friendship that gets one into parties and weddings.
I have learned that if I am not invited to the birthday party, I will not be invited to the graduation party. It follows that I will then not be invited to the bridal shower, the wedding or the reception. When the happy couple reproduces, I will not get invited to the baby shower or ever get to see their child. Why would this be important since I was not involved in any of their other special events? I cannot answer that nor can I predict which list I will end up on, if any at all.
Seeking answers, I have googled a number of articles explaining the etiquette needed to navigate these events that can be accessed by invitation only. Brides and grooms should pick which of their friends they would like to see at their wedding but their parents' friends should not be allowed to come, one article stated. Another pointed out the obvious: it is not possible to include everyone. It is cost prohibitive and makes no sense to invite everyone one has ever known. One article qualifies it by stating that if one has had no contact with someone for a specific amount of time, that person does not get let in to celebrate the couple's special day. I wonder if the determination for who gets chosen would be better handled by some kind of online quiz since there does not seem to be any kind of rating system that could provide a more scientific result.
Maybe the invitation process should be handled more like a college application. I know I could write a convincing essay about how I love weddings more than most people do and would even be willing to assist where needed. I could record every encounter I have had with those about to tie the knot, the prayers I've spoken on their behalf, the needs I've brought before others for their benefit. If I could somehow prove my loyalty as a friend and my commitment to the family to uphold them in all future endeavors and even give the newborn child they will someday have a bed bunny (which is the very best gift any child could ever have since I created it myself), I may stand a chance of getting in. But the "friend" who does not make the list has no voice.
There is now a website called The Knot which I have stalked to vicariously participate in the impending nuptials I will never get to witness in person. I can see when and where the ceremony will be and dream about the beauty of the day. I get to know when and where the reception is in case I decide to get drunk and crash it. (Just kidding--sort of.) And I even get to see their registries and all the cool gifts the happy couple will receive as I try to forget the design of the homemade gift I was going to make. I stop shopping for the dress I will not need to wear. I free up my calendar with a date I was never supposed to save.
Life moves on. Once everything is professionally photographed, it will appear on Facebook and I will get to see not only how beautiful the bride is, but will inevitably catch a glimpse of someone in the background who made the list when I did not. I will wonder about that friend's credentials. What was it that afforded that person entry into the best day of their lives when I was not deemed worthy? Maybe that person was willing to roll down the hill in the barrel with them when I was not. I may never know.
I have started joking to myself that I must be bad luck--the kind no one wants at their wedding. I have not received an invitation to a wedding in over four years and even then I had to negotiate with a relative of the bride's to be given a chance at the open bar and to be handed a sparkler to see off the newlyweds. I knew I deserved to be there and yet question myself when that fact is obvious to no one but me.
If there is anything that sets me straight again after all of this needless worry, it is the idea that after I walk through those pearly gates, ask God the tough question about friendship, and we have a good laugh together, he will usher me over to the banquet table where I will find a place setting with my name on the place card. I will sit down as an invited guest, fashionably dressed for eternity, and chosen to be on the list of his friends.
Wow...just know that if I ever do get married (and it seems totally impossible at this point), you & Lee will be at the top of the guest list. ❤️
ReplyDeleteI have issues and probably need more counseling, but thank you so much, Lori!
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