The word friend can be defined as many ways as there are people. So here's my definition.
A friend is someone I don't talk to every day, nor do I need to see that person on a regular basis. Our connection is one where we are able to pick up where we left off after we catch up on the details of life. Our relationship is based on mutual respect and warm feelings. Not on needs.
My friends are unique in lots of ways, but they all have this in common, they love to learn, grow and stretch, seeking ways to live a vivid life. No matter the circumstances, they persevere and move forward. I guess that would be resilient, the ability to be knocked down, yes, but then get back up again.
Honesty and reality based. No flattery, no game playing, no manipulations. Those are the best kind of friends. I can know where I stand, don't have to guess at expectations or do the dance of dysfunction with a needy Nell. A friend can and will tell me that I have spinach in my teeth, a bat in my cave or toilet paper on my shoe. Then, since we are talking about my definition of friend, she'll (or he'll) mock me.
What a friend isn't.... (suffice it to say that the examples below are folks who don't read the blog and if they perchance stumbled upon it wouldn't recognize that they are an example.)
I had a friend once who looked at me and said. "You are really a disappointment to me. I wanted you to be a real girlfriend, one who I hung out with every day." Honest. Check. She was honest. However, her expectations were intense. We both were married and both worked and had children to deal with. I couldn't even guess what her scenario looked like. And she tried every trick in the book to manipulate me to be "that" girlfriend.
Someone who sucks the life out of me and then kicks the dried up shell looking for just a bit more. I had another friend...her mom encouraged me to take her under my wing...(wonder why). This girl called me constantly, ran every last detail of her drama past me. She must have breathed through her eyes because I could never get a word in. Period. I would set the phone down and do things and come back and pick it up and she'd still be going. We lost touch about 15 years ago. And I recently ran into her and couldn't avoid her. I expected for her to ask me for a phone number etc.etc. She didn't even REMEMBER me. Seriously? How many victims has she gone through...are people just ears? Maybe. I'll NEVER forget her.
Someone who brings on palpitations, defensiveness or guilt when we connect. The game player, the hinter, the "gosh, I never see you anymore, you and your crazy life, but I still love you." when she was the one who canceled our last get together.
And that is the long answer to the short Plinky question. Now. How about you. How do you define a friend?
Baby! It's COLD outside.
Thought this might warm you....
Didn't help me much. So I'm going to put on the flannels and commence hibernating.
Living Oprah: My One-Year Experiment to Walk the Walk of the Queen of Talk
Robyn Okrant
Hardcover: 272 pages
Publisher: Center Street; 1 edition (January 4, 2010)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1599952394
Description:
What happens when a thirty-five-year-old average American woman spends one year following every piece of Oprah Winfrey's advice on how to "live your best life"? Robyn Okrant devoted 2008 to adhering to all of Oprah's suggestions and guidance delivered via her television show, her Web site, and her magazine. LIVING OPRAH is a month-by-month account of that year.
Some of the challenges included enrollment in Oprah's Best Life Challenge for physical fitness and weight control, living vegan, and participating in Oprah's Book Club. After 365 days of LIVING OPRAH, Okrant reflects on the rewards won and lessons learned as well as the tolls exacted by the experiment.
My Review:
I love this type of memoir -- journeys of self-discovery, rigidly planned adventures into the unknown, uncharted soul.These journals detailing the progress and process of the adventure are part documentary and part voyeurism. I couldn't pass Living Oprah up.
Robyn Okrant set out to do, buy, try and believe everything touted by Oprah for an entire year. Okrant is an amusing writer and some of her mini-adventures were laugh out loud funny. Her misadventures even funnier. Her husband deserves some sort of medal for participating in this grand adventure that left no area of his life untouched. Oprah was thorough in 2008, from belly to bedroom, it was all covered. But beyond the funny was the emotional journey Okrant took. While shelling out big bucks for a must-have wardrobe, rearranging her home yet again, buying the latest book, embarking on personal renewal quests, she did quite a bit of soul searching.
Huge Oprah fans who feel she can do no wrong might not care for the conclusions and some of the struggles faced by Okrant. After all, Oprah is just a human being…a powerful one…but not perfect. If you love the idea of one woman’s quest to do as Oprah says (but not necessarily does) for a year, I think you’ll love the book.
Carol: A Story for Christmas
Bob Hartman
Hardcover: 96 pages
Publisher: Lion UK (August 1, 2010)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0745953360
Product Description
Jack O'Malley hates shopping,snow, and even Christmas. All three at once is Jack's idea of a very bad day. Storming into a Starbucks seeking escape, Jack runs smack into a beautiful and mysterious stranger, almost knocking her over and unintentionally changing his life forever. In this one moment his entire life—who he once was, who he is, and who he has the potential to become—flashes before his eyes. In this humorous rendering of Charles Dickens' classic tale, timeless lessons are reexamined through the lens of modern society. The result is funny, moving, and ultimately thought-provoking.
My Review:
This little 96 page book is perfect if you just want a dash of Christmas spice, especially if you are looking for something that shares a good message.
Jack (aka Scroogish guy) hates just about everything having to do with the holiday season. Shoppers, check, stores, check...etc. etc. He finds himself in a coffee shop talking to an attractive lady he decides to chat up. And she takes him on a bit of a journey...a similar visitation of Scrooge-based characters in all books/movies borrowing the plotline... to past, present and future, but Carol has a bigger focus, a global focus. This story reads like a quick three act skit or a comic book style story and would make for a decent Christmas skit for a group who felt compelled to embrace the cause. There are several humorous references to the classic Christmas Carol throughout the book.
On the to be read soonish pile:
Becoming a Man: Sweat, Blood, and Tears Required
Author Xan Hood challenges his generation to grow into godly men
Trapped somewhere between boyhood and manhood are some 20 million young men between the ages of 22 and 35 who are seeking direction. These young men lack the skills to successfully leave boyhood behind and enter fully into the role of manhood and the responsibilities that belong to that mantle. Xan Hood, author of Untamed and director of Training Ground in Colorado, has written Sweat, Blood, & Tears: What God Uses to Make a Man out of his own experience related to this difficult transition period in his own life. He wants to encourage other young men that they can and will make this transition into becoming the man God wants them to be, but that along the journey God uses three intentional elements to make a man—sweat, blood, and tears.
Xan Hood has lived through the uncertainty of moving beyond boyhood into manhood. He has recognized that young men who are raised in homes of both economic privilege and economic adversity often grow up in the absence of a father who is willing and able to teach them the skills they will need to enter into manhood successfully. Oftentimes, a father’s willingness to supply his son’s every need is done without teaching him the true cost of obtaining a particular goal. While the role of provider is vital in a man’s life, provision without teaching responsibility creates a void of understanding and skill that leaves the boy ill equipped to become a man in his own right. Hood feels compelled to address this void and reassure young men that they are not alone in this awkward place of transition. He wants them to know that God can equip them to enter into adulthood with confidence and the assurance that they can understand and become men of God who have much to offer those around them.
Written from the narrative perspective of a young man, Sweat, Blood, & Tears shares Hood’s own process of leaving boyhood behind and embracing his role as an adult. With searing honesty, Hood shares his experiences with God and men and paint and trout and fashion and hunting. He examines critical issues common to many young men, and then outlines the journey that must be traversed in order for them to become the men God created them to be. Through the pain of physical labor, emotional trials, and rewarding adventures, Hood carries the reader to a place of understanding that will equip young men to confidently enter adulthood and leave boyhood behind once and for all.
Sweat, Blood, & Tears: What God Uses to Make a Man by Xan Hood
David C Cook/July 1, 2010/ISBN 978-1-4347-6681-6/256 pages/softcover/$14.99
www.davidccook.com ~ http://xanhood.blogspot.com
Godtest.com
Not everyone feels jolly around the holidays. In case someone is feeling overwhelmed and blue here is a source for some spiritual information, help and hope.
Plinky moment:
They suggest sharing the most romantic thing ever...
I've shared it before. Way back in 2007. But. I'll see if I can't make it more interesting.
When our kids were little, 24 was just a baby, I had a terrible nightmare. One of those where you wake up full of adrenaline and sorrow. The horror is still fresh and the awareness dawning that you are still in bed, and just awakening from a dream filters slowly into your consciousness leaving you weak with gratitude. One of those.
The dream had me on our town's viaduct. In reality this viaduct crosses train tracks and about eight blocks. In my dream it crossed the Missouri river. In reality, the Missouri river does flow just a few miles down the road, and several bridges cross it. In the dream the viaduct was slick. I was alone in the car with my two small children. Up ahead a train had derailed and broken through the viaduct so I slammed on the brakes to avoid the plunge into the river. Instead, silently, we sailed off the pavement and slammed into the icy water. Frantically I began to get the kids out of the car seats. Or I tried. Frigid water slowly started to fill the car as I struggled with clips. I woke as it reached the level of my children.
This was such a vivid nightmare that I wouldn't cross the river for weeks. And finally, I did, but I ran through a checklist of what to do in my mind, over and over again. And I'd hold my breath for the crossing.
One night Rob came home from work. He gave me a hug. And then he looked at me and said. " I know you hate crossing the river. So I just want you to know that I timed how long it takes to cross the bridge. It only takes 3 seconds."
Now why is this the most romantic thing in the world to me? Because in the middle of his day he thought about me. And he had listened to me when I shared my fears with him. And he knew that it still haunted me. And he cared enough to want to ease my mind.
This is one of the reasons I love this man. Call me crazy but a dozen perfect roses, candlelight and diamonds could never touch this one.
A local doctor died recently. Young. Barely in his sixties and he had just retired due to his illness.
And his death has made me pause in the ebb and flow of activities of daily living.
He didn’t have a chance to fully enjoy the fruit of his labor. Medical school, interning, residency, continuing education, endless hours in and out of the hospital, being on call. I work for doctors. I wouldn’t want to be one. People have a stereotype that their lives are just an endless golf game and lying on the beach. Nope. They do not get paid enough. But I digress...
I don’t want my life to be ebb and flow of activities. I don’t want to put my living on hold while I attend to life.
These are the things that make me feel alive. And I want to fill (and feel) my days with them.
Being. With my family biological and chosen. There is nothing that fills my soul like my relationships with my near and dear ones. Being with them energizes me and helps me to face the days and the nights and the in-betweens. A hug, a word, an inside joke. A few handfuls of people who make my life rich.
Learning. Especially from God. But learning in general, too. I want to never stop being awed and overwhelmed by the things I don’t know.
Creativity. I just get in the do mode sometimes. Creativity makes me feel alive. I don’t want to just function. I want to add beauty.
Feeling. When something touches me, I want to respond. When the sunrise takes my breath away or the tangy autumn breeze wells up a gratitude within me...I want to respond to those feelings. When love overwhelms me I want to express it. When sorrow and loss darken my days, I want to feel those, too. I don't want to live from my feelings but I don't want to bury them beneath a plastic exterior of competency.
Is there something you are missing in your day-to-day activities? Do you need to laugh, cry, grab someone and hang on for a life-infusing hug? Do it.
One of my friends made an interesting comment.
And I've been thinking about it.
We were playing a game...not sure of the name...where we teamed up and tried to think like our partner. We were given a word and we each had 30 something picture cards in our hands. Our goal was to lay down five cards that best fit that word, and our partner was to do the same.
Points are given based on the direct matches...i.e. first placed card is the best card to describe the word down to the final placed card which is the least of the top five pictures/statements that describes the word. Points were given for indirect matches, too. When I placed a picture of clowns at number four and she considered it number one we still got points.
After six or so hands when we saw how little we matched, she made her comment. "Isn't it weird? Every time I lay down my cards I just know this is the best way, the only way to lay them down. And I guess the rest of you must feel exactly the same."
Isn't that true? I tend to think of people falling into five or six major/common categories. You've got your birth order, you've got temperaments, you've got personality types. You've got generation. You've got the five blind men and the elephant.
My mom told me she read a fascinating fact. That neural pathways are different in every person's brain. Like a fingerprint, each of us has a unique processing plant within our head.
Hmmm. Like a child who points at a bird and says "aiipane!" because he knows that the speck in the sky is an airplane because someone told him so. Then the bird that flies must be one, too. But when an adult points out that this flying thing is different, it's a bird, a new neural pathway is created, and the child has more information to work with.
This makes my brain hurt. That means that all of my nature and nurture has merged into one big batch of ingredients that go into making me, me and you, you.
And that explains why human beings have such a difficult time getting along with each other.
I don't know that I can even begin to wrap my gray matter around the people like my brother who thought it hilarious to teach my children incorrect words for things. This would be the nurture that has made them all a little twisted just like me.
