The Goodness of Friends
Every now and then, I get really high off of being alone. Single. Independent. In need of nothing and nobody. Except sometimes a good latte. I forget the goodness of community, the comfort of friendship, the safety that can be found in deeply trusting another person. It is like food for the soul.
Then days like today come along and I am reminded of the goodness of friendship. I had the privilege of seeing an old college friend who was in town for work. She's an athletic trainer with a smallish college in central Pennsylvania, just down the road from where I went to college. (In my opinion, for such a rural area, central PA has an inordinately large number of colleges and universities...) They were in town for a men's lacrosse game but we got to chat during warm ups and again after the game. And of course I was texting her a play-by-play of what was happening in the stands. Once upon a time, I thought Little League parents were the worst. Then I realized parents that go to their kids' youth hockey games were maybe the worst. But these lax parents may take the cake. In their own way, they're more violent than the parent that lashes out at youth sporting events. It's comments muttered under their breath. Shouting at a kid whose parents aren't there to yell encouragement. It was fascinating and disturbing all at once. I sat alone, burrowing into the warmth of my down vest, trying to blend into the shadow of safety offered by my oversized bag. These peeps be cray.
I've never been much of a lacrosse fan. I had a passing interest in college when I developed a small crush on a boy from Maryland who played lacrosse for the Naval Academy, but it didn't really stick. My senior year of college, the neighbor in the apartment below me always seemed to practice his lax skills when I was either trying to sleep or trying to study. The incessant "thump...thump...thump..." of that lacrosse ball hitting brick was enough to make me crazy. So today at the game, I wasn't sure what to expect. Throw the ball. Catch it in your little net on a stick. Strategize. Shoot toward goal. Score. After the first pile of bodies collided on the field, I wondered why players don't wear more padding. Then I wondered why there weren't slashing and hooking calls. Or diving calls. And how bones weren't breaking. There were quite a few times I felt like I needed to stand up and yell "MAN DOWWNNNN!!" because if a body dropped, play continued down the field until someone on the field noticed it. And they never seemed to notice. It was like "Oh, hey. Sorry for your luck."
Then days like today come along and I am reminded of the goodness of friendship. I had the privilege of seeing an old college friend who was in town for work. She's an athletic trainer with a smallish college in central Pennsylvania, just down the road from where I went to college. (In my opinion, for such a rural area, central PA has an inordinately large number of colleges and universities...) They were in town for a men's lacrosse game but we got to chat during warm ups and again after the game. And of course I was texting her a play-by-play of what was happening in the stands. Once upon a time, I thought Little League parents were the worst. Then I realized parents that go to their kids' youth hockey games were maybe the worst. But these lax parents may take the cake. In their own way, they're more violent than the parent that lashes out at youth sporting events. It's comments muttered under their breath. Shouting at a kid whose parents aren't there to yell encouragement. It was fascinating and disturbing all at once. I sat alone, burrowing into the warmth of my down vest, trying to blend into the shadow of safety offered by my oversized bag. These peeps be cray.
I've never been much of a lacrosse fan. I had a passing interest in college when I developed a small crush on a boy from Maryland who played lacrosse for the Naval Academy, but it didn't really stick. My senior year of college, the neighbor in the apartment below me always seemed to practice his lax skills when I was either trying to sleep or trying to study. The incessant "thump...thump...thump..." of that lacrosse ball hitting brick was enough to make me crazy. So today at the game, I wasn't sure what to expect. Throw the ball. Catch it in your little net on a stick. Strategize. Shoot toward goal. Score. After the first pile of bodies collided on the field, I wondered why players don't wear more padding. Then I wondered why there weren't slashing and hooking calls. Or diving calls. And how bones weren't breaking. There were quite a few times I felt like I needed to stand up and yell "MAN DOWWNNNN!!" because if a body dropped, play continued down the field until someone on the field noticed it. And they never seemed to notice. It was like "Oh, hey. Sorry for your luck."
After chatting about working with men's sports, designer handbags, hockey camps, the Hershey Pantry, and lululemon, we hugged and parted ways. And I missed having friends around. There are people here I like that I hang out with, but I miss having history with people. I miss being me. It feels like I'm the corporate girl without a job; but with my old friends, they know me from before the job when my biggest problem was juggling an away game with the two papers I had to write that were due the next day. And they loved and accepted me despite my neuroticism. I miss the goodness. I miss the comfort. I miss the safety.
But days like this are good to remind us of these things. In Genesis 2:18, God says it is not good for us to be alone. (And yes, Christian singles'/dating groups...totally hijacked your verse.) It is at times so much easier to isolate oneself. For me, it feels safer. I have control-freakish tendencies, so it appeals to that part of my nature as well. When I'm alone, I only have to worry about me. I can scream my road rage, sing along with the radio, and talk to myself. I don't have to worry about hurting peoples' feelings when they ask for my "honest opinion." I can spend my days how I want them whether shopping, running, or enjoying a good book.
There is also no accountability. And that can be a very bad thing.
I will always love alone time. I will always be an independent person. A lot of the insecurities I had in my youth made me very codependent. I wasn't comfortable doing things alone. Now I prefer it that way. But it is not good for us to be alone. Does that mean I need to make friends with everyone in my life? I don't think so. (read: I sure hope not.) Do I need to spend every waking moment with people? Absolutely not. (read: I sure as hell better not.) But I can work on spending more time with my friends. If I don't have many close friends nearby, I can be intentional about keeping the long-distance friendships alive. Because let's face it. I love road trips. And while there's some open space on my calendar thanks to unemployment...may as well take advantage of disadventageous circumstances!
Time for some soul food.
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