All posts tagged: #friendship

All My Favorite People are Broken – Kintsukuroi Revisited

We snuck out to the back porch ready to tell each other secrets in the swampy Georgia heat. Sitting under the whirring fan, wine in hand, feet up, and heads laid back, we started our confessions. She broke her daughter’s spirit. I broke my son’s confidence. Her marriage was cracking where it used to be strong. My marriage was chipped and sometimes it hurt to pick it up to look at it. Her church broke her heart. My church broke mine. My old soulmate unfriended me. Her colleagues were lying. So much brokenness. Like someone knocked over a china cabinet right there in front of us. Shattered plates, chipped cups, cracked bowls. We were broken. Our most treasured relationships were broken. We sighed. I remembered Kintsukuroi. I wrote about it two years ago, and it remains one of my most popular posts about compassion, forgiveness, and parenting (please read that here and come back). Kintsukuroi: “Kintsugi (Japanese: “golden repair”) is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or …

Seeds

They handed me this box with teary smiles: Remember, we love you. It felt like an urn, full of things dead and over. I couldn’t look at it. I carried it home and packed it away, quickly. Many weeks and miles later we found it at the bottom of a storage container. Greta: Is that a treasure chest?! What’s inside?! Me: They said it was full of love. Greta: Can we open it? Me: I’m not ready. Many guests came to visit our new home, Sweet River. They roamed into my office, scanned the pictures and books on my shelves. Guest: What’s in the box? Me: I’m not sure. It’s from my friends. They gave it to me before I moved away. Guest: You haven’t opened it? Me: I’m thinking of keeping it shut, like a time capsule, until I’m in the nursing home. Guest: Really? Me: I’m not ready. The kids started their new schools. My big house and little heart felt painfully empty. An old friend called, concerned. Friend: It’s time to open the box. Me: I’m not …

Chosen

Who doesn’t want to be Chosen? It’s the best! You like me! You picked ME! It’s the core of so many childhood memories: Sit by me on the bus Pick me for your kickball team (actually, please don’t) Sit with us at lunch Mom and Dad, am I your favorite? Birthday girl, pick me to sit by you 6th grade boy, ask me to dance I went to new schools for 7th, 8th, 9th, and 12th grade. It was rough. So many first days of school with zero friends. So many moments of holding my lunch tray with white knuckles looking out at the chaos of a crowded lunchroom. I skipped a lot of those to hang out and read in the bathroom or library. So much savvy required to know how to look approachable but not needy, confident but not aloof. I learned “To Have a Friend You’ve Got to Be a Friend.” Which meant learning how to smile, risk eye contact, and invite someone to be my lab partner. It meant learning to laugh at jokes that I …