C H E C K T H E B O X
Growing up, our family always took a week of vacation every summer.
We went on all sorts of adventures.
I loved this time because everything was different– where we slept, what we ate, what we did and with whom we hung out. I wish I could remember whole chunks of memories, string them together like the old film projectors and let them play through my mind so I could describe them to my children. But, all I am left with is a few photos and pieces of information my brain has managed to imprint on a deck of shuffled up flash cards floating around my head.
What I do remember vividly is staying in a cabin in the mountains.We bought moccasins and dodged giant raindrops as we fished at a fishing camp and mined for gold. One year we even rented a camper. I have no idea where we went, but I remember it was bullet silver and we visited a town that looked like a Swiss Village. Oh, also tent camping in Canada when a deluge of rain came and washed all our stuff away.
My favorite memories, though, are from the beach.
Typical for that time (yikes, dating myself,) families would not stay at big hotels that offered free breakfast or amenities like massages. Instead we would stay in hotels that were made up of lined up cottages or bungalows. Little homes, so to speak. During your stay, you would have new neighbors that you would grill out, play board games and go swimming with. But before that happened, you had to become friends. This usually happened by the dads offering a beer to each other and talking grilled meats, the mothers discussing ages of children and the weather and the kids (being prompted by the advice of the moms to, “Go say hi”) going up to each other and asking, “What’s your name?”
I miss those times. Making friends was so much easier.
I recently asked my twenty-six-year-old daughter, Lauren, how she became friends with her various friends. Like a lot of us, work, church and school situations propagated her bonds with most people. Then, she reminded me of her and her middle school BF’s story. One day a girl she knew handed her a note that simply asked:
Do you want to be my new best friend? Check yes or no.
She checked yes and put the note in Jordan’s locker. She hesitated at first because she knew she was a rebound bestie, but she thought “What the heck. I want a friend.”
When I was in high school, I had a decent amount of friends, but (much like in one of my older posts, “OK”) what I really wanted was a Christian best friend. It proved an oddly elusive task. I could not pass out flyers or questionnaires asking people to “Check the box if you love Jesus and might like me” So, I joined the Christian clubs that public school offered, but found there was not always truth in the advertisement. Then I did the one thing that I always seem to forget to do. I prayed.
And one ridiculously ordinary day, I stood in the doorway of my classroom waiting for the bell to ring and be dismissed. First, the bus riders were released. As I watched the flurry of body parts push themselves down the hallway, I very clearly heard,
there she is.
I looked out and there was this girl I knew only by name, Lesli. Then, I did the craziest thing; I pursued her, literally. I chased her down, catching up to her right as she stepped onto her bus. I introduced myself and said I felt we should be friends.
Who does that?!
Apparently me. And God had a plan.
Her and I ended up being in several classes the next year. Not only was she a Christian, but she pursued God with her whole heart (I did not know any of this when I acted like a weirdo following her to the bus.) We also accumulated a whole gang of friends with whom we all did life together: home group, church and even a Christian club at school. This group of besties was made up of all sorts; guys and girls, varying ethnicity, crazy and reserved, athletes and geeks. I could not have hand picked a better bunch of people with which to grow into adulthood.
When I was little, my Mom taught Sunday school. She would often lead us in singing the song about Zacchaeus. Zacchaeus was a wee little man that climbed up in a tree in order to see Jesus. He was also the chief tax collector; despised by everyone. When Jesus passed through the crowd of people, he saw Zacchaeus up in the tree. He told him to come down, then invited Himself over to his house. According to how my mom sang the song, “I am going to your house for tea.”
Since I have started this blog, hardly a week goes by without someone confessing their loneliness and asking how to make friends. Mind you, I am usually taken back because it is almost always someone you would assume has a plethora (the irony that I too am missing opportunities is not lost on me.) The heart longing of each lady is the same; they all want someone to “see” them, to hear them, to laugh and cry with them– to share everyday life.
Although there is not a formula, all these previously described scenarios still work.
1.Introduce yourself to someone and find a common interest (What’s your name? Wanna play?) It works. I just had a photographer do that to me and I about jumped out of my skin with joy!
2.Be bold and intentional. (Check the box.) Try not to be discouraged if the box is checked “No.” It could mean so many different things.
3.Above all things, p r a y. (I want a BF). If God placed that desire in your heart, then He has a plan. Just be willing to obey it. Warning: it may take you out of your comfort zone.
4.Get out of your house. Zaccheaus never would have had that awesome tea time with Jesus if he stayed in his house moping.
You will find a common theme in all these possible entry points into friendship-action. Go on, be a weirdo.
