Other Stuff #2, FRIENDS

I have a friend who is so nice that probably he will die with apologies, knowing that his funeral will inconvenience someone.  We have a common friend who can't stand it when friend #1 holds open a restaurant door for someone who isn't quite to the entrance yet.  Friend #2 can see the wasted time slipping away and figures that if someone is able to go out to eat then he is able to open the door for him/herself. 

Friend #2 orders his life by his pocket calendar while friend #1 is like a radio receiver tuned to the "needs" messages others broadcast.  If one friend is late he is concerned about his schedule.  When the other is late he is concerned that he is inconveniencing others.  Me? I may not even be aware that I am late.

Both my friends sometimes wonder about me.  One feels that my laid-back approach to life is inefficient--not the way to get the job done, while the other, I suspect (He is much too nice to say so.), thinks that I take the needs of others too lightly.  The fact is they are both right.  After years of work one friend has influenced me to the point that now I can at least find my pocket calendar, and the other has helped me to see that just caring is not enough; I must demonstrate that I care in a way that is meaningful to the person concerned. 

As I observe my friends I see that they have had a good effect on one another and I can even detect how I have influenced them.  They have changed me, however, more profoundly than they could possibly know.  I guess you could call us the odd trio, though I would rather refer to our relationship as a Proverbs 27:17 friendship.  We have been rubbing the rough edges off one another for years.  I believe that all three of us are better for the experience.  I know I am.

I suspect that deep in his heart my "by the numbers" friend wonders why people put up with our "terminally kind" friend's ways.  I mean, if you hang out with the guy you are constantly being delayed so that he can help some little old lady across the street or get a cat out of a tree.  I wouldn't be surprised if my "hold the door friend" asks himself why do others put up with our "dot the "I" and cross the "T" friend.  I mean he may splash water on the little old lady, as he rushes by, and he probably figures that one cat up a tree is just one cat up a tree.  I know that both of them wonder why anyone puts up with my "don't worry; be happy" ways.

The answer is no further than our own hearts.  I love both my friends because they are incredible people.  I have found that in addition to his "bottom line" ways my calendarized friend cares deeply for the needs of others.  In fact the purpose of all that goaling and planning and strategizing is so he can help meet those needs.  I have seen in my "may I help you?" friend a deep commitment to goals and concerns that go far beyond the demand of the moment.  In fact one reason he keeps his receiver tuned in is because meeting the needs of others is one of the chief goals of his life. 

Still I sometimes find that my friends bug me; from time to time I have to cut them some slack.  They love one another and me and I love them, but it is not because we see one another in a rose-colored hue.  We see in each other not only good qualities, but irritating idiosyncrasies--characteristics that if found in another would drive us to keep our distance. Each of us realizes that the blessing to be gained by the maintenance of the relationship is well worth the price that must be paid to maintain it.

If I had followed the pattern that I observe in most people's relationships I would have ditched my friends long ago.  I would have gone to watch the sunset while one was holding the elevator for an elderly gentleman and the other was rushing to his next appointment, and we would never have enjoyed the marvelous relationship that we have.  Instead I grabbed one friend's calendar--he never leaves home without it--and I smiled and he tapped his foot with impatience while the old gent got to the elevator.  Then I said, "Let's go watch the sunset."  One friend went because he wanted to get his calendar back and the other went because he is too nice to say, "No." 

In the warm glow of the shared experience I was so glad that I had put up with them, and they with me, and each of them with the other, and I think they were as well.

Growing Pains #2, Suck It Up:

I stood on the side of the cross country course watching my son go by, his face grimaced with pain, an ace bandage coming unwrapped, trailing from his left leg.  He had pulled up lame a week or so before; he hoped to be able to do well enough today to go on to the regional meet.  I was juggling my heart--not too skillfully I might add.  Do I encourage him to go on, knowing that if he goes on he'll push himself in such a way that his pain will increase?  Or, do I yell, "Son, don't hurt yourself.  Pull up."? I Know that no one will blame him for not continuing to run on a bad leg.  "These things happen.  You've got two more trips to the districts.  Even if you do hang on and qualify will your leg heal in time to do your best at regionals?" 

Of course I couldn't have said all of that out loud.  There wasn't time as he ran by.  But I knew that with a nod, a look, a few shouted words I could have communicated most all that.  Maybe it wouldn't have made any difference.  Perhaps I flatter myself to think that what I would say would make a difference at such a point.  Maybe, but I don't think so. 

Instead I yell, "Hang in there 'Topher.  Remember your brother's advice."  Big brother, his macho freshly charged with the news that he will be starting this Friday against the #1 football team in the state, had eloquently stated, "You gotta suck it up."  (For any who read who are not familiar with sports-macho-talk that means to keep going even when it hurts, for a determined mind to tell an injured body to keep on going.  For maximum effect the line needs to be delivered in a course low voice.)  It was my son's version of a thousand usually corny sounding statements that coaches spout and hang up on locker room walls.

Only today it wasn't corny. 

I knew success in life didn't depend on whether or not my son finished that race.  If he didn't qualify for regional competition his life wouldn't stop like some town clock forever frozen at the time of the big earthquake.  But all of us must learn to "suck it up."  Was this one of those times?  I wish I knew for sure.  I'm really not any closer to being sure today than I was yesterday. 

Maybe he needed to face the hard fact that God doesn't guarantee that hard work will lead to success--at least success as recognized by the passing out of ribbons.  Maybe he would have learned more courage by facing the potential scorn of his peers, who would say, "He had a big chance and he let a little pain get in his way."  Even in the quiet reflection of the next morning I don't know.  That is often how it is.  We just don't know, yet as parents, when our kids run by, we are expected to yell something.

Is this the time to let him stretch the limits?  Is he ready for this next step?  Do I encourage him to run through the pain or do I let him weep in my arms and tell him there will be other days, other races?  We aren't equipped with a manual that is that specific.  Even if we were, we wouldn't have time to read it.  So we stand on the sidelines and yell things as our kids go by.  We love them and try to have the best desires for them and try to listen to them and pray for them and hope that at that critical moment when they rush by on their way to adulthood we will yell the right thing.  I wish that it were more precise than that, but it's not.  If it weren't for the fact that I trust God I would probably give up in despair.

I am firmly convinced that my heavenly Father loves my boys even more than Kathy and I.  While I am yelling out to my sons He is encouraging me.  Like another old sports cliche', He only expects me to do my best.  I need to make sure that my soul is filled with His word and that my heart is tender to His leading.  At the critical moment there is no time to study; often there is not even time to think.  I need an internal guidance system that always points to the right way.  I need to regularly program that system with the data of the Bible.  Even if I do my very best the fact remains that I will sometimes fail; if I had to depend solely on my ability to always say and do the right thing in order for my sons to turn out right, I would be a very frustrated dad.  I try to do and say what is right, but in the final analysis I have trusted them to God.

It is hard.  I guess I just have to "suck it up."

Growing Pains, Table of Contents