Notes to self on being a friend

Notes to self on being a friend

Years and years ago a friend of mine went through a divorce and I did a lousy job of being his friend. Admittedly, we weren't all that close to begin with, but I was close to rude. Far closer than I care to admit.

Now that I'm here I've been awed by the support I've received from my friends. It is undeserved grace. Most memorably, Ralph showed up Friday night with jars of jam, applesauce, a pan of homemade rolls and a housewarming gift.

We talked till after midnight Friday and all day Saturday. What I appreciate most is his ability to hold my words lightly: I can say whatever I want and know that he'll thresh the grains of truth and let the chaff blow on the winds of emotion.

He also reminded me of the vital importance of unpacking my bags and surrounding myself with beauty and meaning. We hung pictures and shopped for wine glasses. And while he gently prodded and poked at any laziness or negativity on my part, he reserved his own opinions until I had solidified my own.

If ever I have the opportunity to walk with another friend through this jungle, I'll have a better idea how to do it.