Thank you for Being a Friend

Ok, so who among you is now humming the Golden Girls theme song? Just me? Oh well...

I have been blessed to share my life with some amazing people. Family, friends, friends so close they should be family, a few people I couldn't stand but they taught me a lot...either way, each a blessing. Their influence has been far reaching and long lasting. 

Tonight I found out that one of my dearest friends, who like many people that I love sadly I have lost touch with, is going to be available for a visit this month coming up.  I don't really know why Kate and I lost touch, but we did; probably my stubbornness and pride...it is usually the culprit. She stood up for me when I got married, was the first friend I shared the news that I was going to be a mom with, and the first friend I called to tell Hannah had arrived. We met in university and became fast friends. She got me on a level no one else did, and loved me even still. We shared lots of honesty...even the hard kind. She moved to California not long after Meg was born, but held my hand thought the first few tough weeks of being a mom of two. 

I can't say that I held her hand when she needed it most. In fact I think I did the opposite, I was so wrapped up in my own life. My actions, or paralysis of action is on my list of requested do-overs. I wish there was a way to get back the last 7 years of being too ashamed to call or email; but there isn't. There is right now though. Right now I am amazed she still wants to see me. Right now I am so relieved that she has a braver sprit than I do. Right now I am wishing my house was cleaner, my clothing size was smaller and my face was younger but, right now, despite all that, I am burstingly happy because right now I remember what real friendship looks like. Thank you Kate, I can't wait to see you.

Kate isn't the only great friend I went MIA on; there have been others. I think when my insecurities get a hold of me I doubt myself so deeply that I doubt those that love me. It isn't fair and it isn't right but it has been serial behaviour for me. For some reason I can convince myself that I am not worth loving and as such walk away from them before they have a chance to walk away from me. Seems ridiculous right? The preemptive breakup with the quality of friend that wouldn't leave you when you are down. Now that said, had any of them called me and said they needed me, I would have moved heaven and earth to help them. honestly though, I gave them no reason to believe I would come through on the big stuff when I couldn't even return a phone call.

Jennifer and I are 5 days apart. We took great pride in being each others first friends. We both grew up in the same hole-in-the-wall hamlet in southern Ontario and were the kind of young friends that would hide when a parent came to pick us up, like if they couldn't find us we wouldn't have to part. At 8 years old she moved and it was the beginning of the end. We got back in touch in high school, and it was great for a long time, but I always felt like I wasn't in the same league as her. She was a natural at being...everything. She was great at being intensely happy and great at being intensely sad. She loved with a full heart and I knew she loved me. But I could never figure out why and so we had this unwritten competition. Where I would subconsciously try and keep up with her and I often felt she would then push to keep up with me. I didn't go to her wedding, cause I was mad she didn't ask me to be in it, so juvenile, right? Here's the kicker...I hadn't asked her to stand up for me, so what did I expect? I don't really know, but when I didn't get it I bailed on her special day...and lost a dear friend.

I walked away from Kathy back in her first year of college. She and I had been inseparable our whole childhoods. Her parents had been like surrogates to me and I could find my way around her house in the dark like it was my own. She sat beside me while I dealt with my dad's passing. She and I shared every adolescent high and low out there. She was as close to a sister as I have ever or likely will ever know. Now Kathy was athletic, beautiful, funny and far better adjusted than I was, but for some reason she still loved me. In true sister style, I never felt like I measured up. The dumb thing, that would occur to me too late into my disappearing act, was to her I did measure up. To her I was enough. It was all in my head that I faltered. Now I see her on Facebook. Her beautiful family, her life which looks like I would have wished for her. Her smiling kids are like a snapshot of the face I grew up with and I love it. I hope that over time we can find a new ground with a full history. For that I must be the brave one though. For that I can't wait and hope that something else will bring her back to me; I will have to swallow that pride and say what is on my mind....I'm sorry and...

Thank you for being a friend 

Traveled down the road and back again 

Your heart is true, you're a pal and a confidant. 

And if you threw a party 

Invited everyone you knew 

You would see the biggest gift would be from me 

And the card attached would say thank you for being a friend.

There now you're ALL humming the Golden Girls... 😉

A Cacophony of Joy

I sit here drenched in the solid sun of a Prairie afternoon, though the Ontario girl in me chose a home littered with trees. The gloriously tall poplar trees that sound like the rustling of my grandmother's yard, give home to a multitude of birds and kiss the summer goodbye with a golden glow. That is the sound that fills my ears today in this exquisite sun. Perfect right? There is one key element still needed in this mix. One I would have missed even a decade ago. The sound of giggling. Full on, wildly joyous laughter. The sound of silliness. This is the sound of the invention of new worlds and the creation of memories. The sound of kids at work. This is the sound of childhood.

Today I am blessed enough to have that laughter surround me. My three children are playing like mad with some friends of theirs; the children of some of our best friends. It is wonderful to watch them plot and plan the best fort, giggle at each others silly faces and laugh their way through the sunny afternoon. 

This was posted by an old friend on Facebook this week and it got me thinking of how many wonderful memories I have from the children of my childhood. Many were from my neighbourhood, but I also went to school in another community so there were also many from school. I am crummy at staying in touch with people...and I hate that part of me. In fact it was another resolution of this year; to tell people I am thinking of them and how much I love them as I think it...not after it is too late. I miss so many of the unique people I was lucky enough to be surrounded by and the sounds in my yard now remind me of afternoons of my own childhood and the many adventures we enjoyed. We as parents often crave a few moments of silence, but today I am revelling in the boisterously beautiful noise. So with out further ado, here is my list of some wonderful JOY sounds. 

A new baby's cry

Three times in my life I have heard the first utterance of a human being's life. That very first cry out to the world saying 'at long last I am here' is like no other sound and one that has been written on my soul in indelible ink. Many of the cries a baby makes in its early years can be exasperating but that first one...is precious.

A purring cat

I had the best cat ever growing up; her name was Sweet-pea. She was a tiny cat with a big heart and an even bigger purr. Each night she slept with me and the sound of her purring was the most simple and joyful lullaby. Knowing she was as at peace with me as I was with her was purr-fection....

The sound of a child praying 

I have a hard time praying sometimes, because I get caught up in the words. Grownups worry about what words they should say to the Divine, not wanting to say the wrong thing; but not kids. Kids just say whatever is on their hearts and that is the epitome of unabashed praying. That is what God wants and what I let my pride get in the way of. That is real respect for the Divine...that is joyful love.

The sound of the orchestra warming up before a show

I attended a lot of theatre as a child, it was one of my favourite things. Musicals, opera, ballet, performance theatre... I loved it all and it all started with the orchestral warm up. The orchestra pit would come to life and a special electricity would fill the room. I remember saying to my Godmother (one of my favourite people in the world) that I knew the song they were playing; feeling quite pleased with how cultured I was...it was a number of years before I understood why she dissolved in laughter. Of course it was just the warm up but it was a sound I knew and loved...and was totally charged with joy for me.

That perfect song that allows you to time travel

Some songs are veritable DeLoreans. I can be in the parking lot of my high school everytime I hear 'Killing Me Softly' by the Fugees. I can be  back at camp every time I hear 'Father and Son' by Cat Stevens or 'Hello Again' by Neil Diamond. I can be driving with my mom when I hear 'Prisoner of Love' by Perry Como or snuggled on my Uncle Doug's lap every time I hear 'Pussy Willows Cattails' by Gordon Lightfoot; and I love going back to all these places for a re-visit. There are many more songs that allow a trip back, though not every place is a pleasant memory. Either way-even the sad ones are precious to me and I find an odd joy in every last one.

The song from the original Super Mario Bros 

I was never lucky enough to have an NES, but my bestie Kathy had one. We spent hours sitting in her basement playing in the dark with the most comfortable corduroy pillows ever. That sound...come on...you know the song I mean...dum, dum, dum, da, dum, da, dum...da, da, da, dum, da, dum, dum, da, dum, dum....sorry got caught up. Anyhow, that song sounds like time with her. It sounds like a challenge...it sounds like my whole generation. I never did rescue the princess...but it is still a bucket list item.

Thunder

I adore a big thunder storm. I love the flashes of light and the house shaking booms. It is loud as can be and nothing is better as far as sounds to fall asleep to. A good snuggle from my husband during a thunderstorm and truth be told there isn't much more I could ask for in life.

These are just a few things I love to hear...among many. What are your most joyous sounds? What noisy love do you crave in your life? 

❤ Cat

Refining My Brokenness

So one of my resolutions this year was to write more, or at least again. I have always healed, laughed and lived through my writing but for some reason over the last few years I have stopped baring my soul through pen and ink. It is a little like deciding to stop breathing to a writer, but I am deciding to take a deep breath again. I am deciding to write again. so I know who I am. So my kids will know who I was. So I can find out who I am becoming.

I am going to start by trying out Lisa-Jo Baker's Five Minute Friday. The plan is you write for 5 minutes on a particular topic provided by her each Friday, (no editing or re-writes...just unadulterated writing) today's prompt was BROKEN....so here goes...

BROKEN:

I grew up believing I was broken. I was broken cause I didn't have my dad. That if he was here I would experience an insta-fix. i guess that is why I wanted to have someone in my life always...never wanted to be alone. I figured that somehow a man would come into my life and fix me…’cause that is what men do isn’t it? I grew up believing that to be broken because you didn't have a dad or man was something you needed to be ashamed of and hide. You hide you're hurt. I’m not even really sure who taught me that lesson; but I knew it as surely as I knew I was broken.

Now many more moons than I would have liked have passed…and let’s be honest I’m still a little broken. I’m still a little convinced that I should be hiding it. The difference is that now I am sure that I am not the only one experiencing waves of brokenness. I am certain that we are all in our own way and in our own time breaking, repairing… breaking and repairing, refining ourselves like shining silver.

That man I dreamed of did come into my life. I am certain that the most honourable thing that my husband has done for me though is to sit beside me while I cry over my brokenness realizing I am not alone. He has watched me, encouraged me, cheered for me, covered for me and sheltered me while I fixed myself. He has never ‘fixed’ me; he has just loved me through my brokenness… despite my brokenness… sometimes because of my brokenness.

I don’t always love the realization that I am, in fact, broken at times. But I love the strength that comes from the refiner’s fire as the brokenness, my imperfections are burned off.