Uniquely created; Similarly evolved
I think we can compare the people that come in and out of our lives, to guests we entertain at a dinner party;
Acquaintances come to say hello and sample the hors d’oeuvres.
Friends stick around for the main course, then excuse themselves to attend another event.
But the people who we consider family, whether related to us or not, stay to help serve the dessert and distribute the antacid as needed.
I currently have 207 friends on Facebook. Not a great amount by some peoples standards but more than enough for me. In fact maybe too many, so by the time you read this I will probably already have begun to thin the herd so to speak. I am considering defriending people, starting with but not necessarily limited to the following group;
People who I suspect have only requested me as a friend in order to artificially inflate their friend numbers. Here’s an example;
I was at a wedding reception not long ago and found myself in the buffet line directly behind someone who I had recently accepted a friend request from. I remember being somewhat surprised and kind of flattered that this person had wanted to be my friend. If you are rolling your eyes and wondering how naive of a Facebook user I could possibly be, I understand your puzzlement. I sometimes even surprise myself.
Anyway I tapped this person on the shoulder and said, “Hi Abner!” (Abner’s name has been changed to protect the ignorant) Abner turned, looked at me, said “Oh hello.” and then turned his back to me as he shoved another stuffed mushroom into his pie hole. I stood there dumb founded, blue cheese dressing dripping from the end of my crinkle cut carrot stick. Oh hello? That was it? He acted as if he didn’t even recognize me. I was left wondering what had happened to our new found friendship. Was it something I did or said? Had I forgotten to “like” that silly picture of him and his wife he posted last week? I also found myself wondering why blue cheese dressing was now running down the front of my suit. I was under the impression that vegetables were crinkle cut not only because it was aesthetically pleasing but also because it helped prevent accidents like the one I was having from happening. I thought the grooves were supposed to help hold the dressing. (My mind tends to wander sometimes) My wife said to me, “Who was that?” But before I could answer she continued with, “Did you know you have ranch dressing running down the front of your suit?” I said, “Yes I know. And it’s actually blue cheese not ranch.” I turned back around to grab a napkin and saw Abner yukking it up with the guy standing in front of him. Somewhat hurt, I considered bumping into him and transferring my blue cheese mess onto the back of his sports coat. I was unable to do it though, reasoning that it was because I just couldn’t see myself doing that to a “friend.” If I had only loaded that Facebook app on my I phone it would have allowed me with a clear conscience, to quickly defriend Abner and then create a dry cleaning nightmare for him.
Coming away from this encounter feeling disillusioned and disappointed, I decided to make some changes to my Facebook management style.
From now on if someone sends me a friend request that I graciously accept and one day we happen to bump into each other, I will again enthusiastically say, “Hello (Insert name here)!! If they look at me as if I’m someone who they would be unable to recognize in a crowd of two, they will officially be moved to a holding list titled, Fake Friend Requester Awaiting Unconditional Defriending. Or as I like to call it, my FFRAUD list. I will use their blank stare or unintelligible grunt as a key indicator that they friended me for the sole purpose of increasing their friend numbers in order to make themselves appear more popular than they actually are.
So I am starting with Abner, and if by chance he forgets that we were once friends and somewhere down the road re-sends me another friend request, I will gladly accept and begin the process all over again. After all, what are friends for?
I was watching television last night when a commercial for St. Judes Childrens Hospital came on. I couldn’t help but think about my mom and one of the last meaningful conversations I ever had with her. It started as an argument but ended as a moment.
Around the time my mom was in her early to mid 80’s, she seemed to me to become obsessed with giving to charities. Worried about her finances I would say things like, “Mom it’s great that you want to donate to causes like the Seeing Eye Dog Foundation, but we really need to watch your money more closely.” Only so I would stop nagging her about it, she would respond with a very noncommittal, “Okay.”
Then one day in her apartment, I was going through some of her mail and saw a form letter from St Judes Childrens Hospital, an organization founded by the late singer/actor Danny Thomas. The letter thanked her for the generous donation she had just sent in. Upset, I waved the letter at her and said, “My gosh mom we’ve talked about this!” Now mom had become fond of saying to me, “No listen, you don’t understand.” so of course she said to me, “No listen, you don’t understand.” and began to tell me about all of the great things that St. Judes did for ailing children. She got very passionate about it and promised that she would cut down on the other charities, but I would have a fight on my hands if I tried to stop her from giving to this one.
I said, “Mom, your generosity is wonderful but you simply don’t have the money to do this all of the time. What will we do if you run out of money? Do you think that Danny Thomas is going to come over and say, Thanks for donating Audrey, I heard you’re out of money so I’ve decided to give you some of mine to take care of you?”
She looked at me like I was crazy and said, “Of course not, Danny Thomas is dead!”
Now I’m getting frustrated with her, “I know he’s dead mom I’m just trying to make a point!”
Mom just keeps going, “His daughter Marlo runs the charity now. She starred in the TV program That Girl.”
“I know all about Marlo Thomas ma!”
But she’s on a roll now and says, as if she knows her personally, “Marlo’s married to that nice looking Phil Donahue. He had his own TV show too.”
I think she must be losing it and say, “I know mom but Phil and Marlo aren’t coming to take care of you either! And they ARE alive!!”
Now she’s clearly upset and frustrated with me too and says, “So what, who takes care of me now anyway?”
I couldn’t believe my ears, was she serious?! Hurt, angry and thinking only of my own feelings, I wanted to defend myself and tell her what she obviously already knew. That most of my days off of work were spent either taking her to an appointment with her dermatologist, her ophthalmologist, her general practitioner, out to lunch, or just going to her apartment to visit and check up on things. Did she think there weren’t better things I could be doing with my days off? Thank God all I could spit out was, ” Gee I don’t know mom, who takes care of you?” because in reality, no there weren’t better things I could be doing. Forgive me for saying so, but sometimes there were things I would RATHER have been doing with my vacation time, but were they BETTER things than taking care of my mom? No. I turned to leave but before I could go mom smiled and gave me a hug. Then, even though no one else was around, rather than speak out loud she whispered in my ear something that will remain forever between just the two of us. Humbled, I returned her hug and hung on a little longer than normal. I was about to say something back but decided to save it for another time.
Within a month an accidental fall in her apartment would take her from me.
The legendary University of Alabama football coach Paul “Bear” Bryant was asked to do a commercial for AT&T phone company a number of years ago. His last line of the commercial was supposed to be, “Call your momma.” but on his own he decided to add one more sentence. When the commercial aired, phone lines all over the country lit up. I’m sure the coach wouldn’t mind me using his line to remind all of you on this Mothers Day weekend to; “Call your momma. I wish I could call mine.”
His office phone rang at exactly 11:30 AM, on the other end was a co-worker, Carol. “I just went through one of the most difficult things I have ever dealt with.” She said. “I just got off of the phone with Joyce.” Before I continue, let me give you some background;
When he and his wife were first married they moved into an apartment not far from where Joyce lived with her husband Jim and their son Jimmy. He and Joyce worked together and because they lived so close to one another, Joyce would often ask him for rides to and from work. He never turned her down but would always cringe at the thought of having to pick her up at 6:00 AM and make the 45 minute drive into work. He had nothing against her personally it was just her constant need for conversation that drove him crazy. The humor in all of this was not lost on his wife who was well aware that the only words he wanted to hear before 9:00 AM was, “The coffee’s ready.” Over time the drive became at least bearable. She talked… a lot. He mostly just listened. But the the truth was, they probably got along better in the car than at work where neither thought that the other was particularly easy to get along with. He never really considered her a friend, just more of an acquaintance.
Eventually Joyce retired and moved out of state. Co-workers whom she was keeping in touch with would often give him the message that Joyce said “Hi” and asked how he was doing. He would always courteously tell them to say hi back.
Then one day right before Christmas, a message was left on his answering machine at work. “Hi it’s Joyce. I’m in the hospital receiving cancer treatments and was wondering if you could please give me a call?” What the heck kind of message is that to leave someone? He hadn’t talked to her in years and she just picks up the phone to say hi I have cancer, call me? What could she possibly want to talk to him about?
He decided not to call, right up until he picked up the phone, dialed the hospital, and said, “Hi Joyce, how ya doin?” Yes she had cancer, but she was going through treatments that she prayed would help, and her spirits were good. His concern over what would be discussed disappeared. She just wanted to say hello and ask how the family was. When the conversation somehow turned toward how they had both recently come to terms with their faith and love for Christ, he was forced to admit to himself that he was glad he had made the call.
The holidays passed and then came the call from Carol. “You just talked to Joyce? How is she doing?” he asked. “She was released from the hospital,” Carol said, “apparently there’s nothing more they can do. They’ve given her a week to live, two at the most. Anyway she’s calling to say goodbye to a few people and asked if you were in. Just thought I would give you a heads up that she’ll be calling. God that was tough. I didn’t know what to say to her.”
Stunned, he hung up the phone and just stared at it, expecting it to ring but hoping it wouldn’t. He was afraid to take the call. He considered leaving his office and missing the call intentionally but knew he would later hate himself for being such a coward. So he just sat and waited.
“Hello?” The phone had rung three times before he found the courage to answer. He heard, “Hi, it’s Joyce.” Trying to sound upbeat he said, “Hi Joyce how are you?” Then, “Sorry, that was stupid, Carol told me.” Joyce said, “That’s ok. I’m so happy and at peace. I can feel God’s arms around me and He’s leading me home. I just wanted to say goodbye.”
He relaxed a little and asked what the doctors had told her. It was true, she didn’t have much time left, in fact the doctors hadn’t expected her to make it this long. Then she chuckled and said, “But I had some unfinished business to take care of first. One more call after this one and I’ll be ready to go HOME.”
Once again the conversation seemed to flow naturally toward their faith, a bond they never realized during all of those rides to and from work, that they would one day share. She asked if he would pray with her. He wanted to, but he became emotional and was unable to speak. Breaking the silence, she began to pray and suddenly the roles as he imagined they were supposed to be, had been reversed. She was comforting him.
When they ended with, “Amen” he could hear the weakness in her voice. “I’d better hang up now.” She said. “I’m really tired.” He didn’t know what to say until the words actually came out. “I’ll be seeing you.” he said. “I’ll be waiting for you.” she answered.
The last words spoken between them, under normal circumstances would never have been said, but now they were the only words that seemed to fit. “I love you.” and the call was over.
That was close to 20 years ago. I don’t remember driving home from work that day but I do remember thinking about how fascinatingly strange life can be. For nearly 40 years I had been trying to discover what the purpose of living was, and all it took to find out was a 15 minute phone call with someone who was dying.
Thank you Joyce. Your friend in Christ, Dale