When Friends Go Away

I miss my friends.

Jason has been traveling a lot over the past few weeks. Tina lives far away. Jon hasn't been playing at church lately. Rich is leading worship at a new church. Kit is finding a different church closer to her home.

I miss my friends.

During these seasons, my instinct is to get all weepy, consume too much wine and Ben & Jerry's, and curl up in my bed.

I like hanging out with my peeps, but I really like it when it's easy to hang out with them. When it gets complicated, well, I don't like that as much.

Complicated means that I have to make plans to Skype with Jason, even when Community is on. Complicated means that I have to go out of my way to schedule lunch dates with friends. Complicated means that I have to send more texts, drive longer distances, make more of an effort. It requires more of me in the relationship.

As difficult as all of this can be, there's also beauty in this kind of intentional interaction. When we are intentional about relationships, we are intentional about the people. We say that on our list of important things, they have a place. We say that we care about their feelings. We say that we want to honor our commitment to friendship.

Intention often stirs creativity, so we may break out of "friendship ruts" that can happen. Instead of just relying on the regular ways of hanging out, we have to find different ways to spend time together. Sometimes we have to snag short visits. Sometimes we have to meet in places that aren't just a coffee shop. Sometimes we have to use technology to keep in touch.

Don't get me wrong. If I had my way, I'd see these folks just as regularly as ever. We'd hang out and things would be easy.

But in lieu of easy, I'll take intentional.

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What do you do to show your friends and family that you care about them? How are you intentional in your relationships?

Grace Indeed by Dianna Anderson

I haven't known Dianna for terribly long, but I'm so thankful to have met her! She has a wonderful sense of humor that she uses to write about deeply non-funny things. As someone considerably older, I admire how she uses her voice to help women. And today I'm happy to be able to share her story about some cross-gender friendships that she's had.

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When I was a kid, my best friend was a boy named Phil whose backyard was kiddy-corner from mine. This wasn’t a friendship of convenience, though – he wasn’t my best friend because there was no one else in the neighborhood. In fact, there were three or four girls around in the same few block radius. But for some reason, I never got along with them – it may have had something to do with them making me pay them a dime in order to go on a walk.

As a little girl, I did not conform to gender roles. I was much more interested in climbing a tree than playing with dolls. My hair was cut short because I refused to comb it. And, most obviously, my best friends were boys.

I never understood why my friendship with boys was a reason for teasing, but there was teasing nonetheless. My two best friends in fourth and fifth grade were Curtis and Tyler, and every day when walking home, my classmates would tease me, “Hey Dianna, do you liiiiiiike Curtis? Are you guys going to do iiiit?” (In fourth grade, we barely knew what “it” was, other than that it was something people who liked each other in that way did).

Now, as a 26 year old adult, I have some sympathy for those kids who teased me throughout elementary school. It’s pretty clear that they were just parroting the belief that men and women can’t be just friends – that there will always be some kind of sexual tension or problems there. And you especially cannot be friends with a married man if you are a single woman. Because so many others before us have made mistakes, have committed “emotional adultery,” cross gender friendships are problematic. This is a fact that has always been a reality in my life, from seven years old all the way into adulthood. I’ve always gotten along better with the males of our species, and I’ve always had to defend that choice of friendship.

But when I hit college, something changed. Girls, instead of thinking me weird or odd for being friends with boys, were jealous. Because of a lifetime of being best friends with guys, talking to them was easy for me. It wasn’t hard for me to sit down in the lunchroom and start a conversation with a man I didn’t know, and it wasn’t hard for me to develop close friendships that weren’t plagued by “does she like me in that way? What if she does? Oh no!”

Of course, there were boundaries and sometimes confusion – as any cross gender friendships will have. But in my choice to defy norms and develop friendships with boys at an early age, I set myself up for easier friendships as an adult.

In the church, we do a major disservice to both men and women when we discourage cross-gender friendships, when we warn people off of getting “too close” with a member of the opposite sex, when we instill fear instead of grace into our relationships. I truly believe that my cross gender friendships throughout my life have helped me to understand grace, mercy, and love on a deeper level. Because I am not afraid of the what-if and what-would-people-think, each of my friends fills their role as David, as Josiah, as Jim, as Sam, as Chase, and James. Rather than being just “men,” they are each, uniquely, my brothers. And that is grace indeed.

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Dianna Anderson has a day job as a radio producers on the south side of Chicago. By night, though, she takes to the internet as a caped crusader of feminism! Which means that she blogs about feminism and theology and how people should be allowed to say "vagina" without cringing. Her blog can be found at: http://www.diannaeanderson.net

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This post is a part of a series of guest posts about cross-gender friendships in preparation for the Sacred Friendship Gathering in April. For more information about the gathering, check out the website. I hope to see you there! 

 

Pro-Compassion

I received the following letter from a friend of mine who is a nurse with Planned Parenthood. I asked her if I could share it with you and she agreed.

I worked at the Planned Parenthood clinic in one of our most affluent communities in Texas today. It is the only clinic that we have protesters at in the Dallas area.

In the 15 years that I have worked for Planned Parenthood, I have never seen this much protester activity. There were between 15 people when I got there to about 30 people when I left out on the small area of grass between the sidewalk and the street, shouting at cars driving by, holding up signs and calling me personally a baby killer when I walked into the clinic this morning. They are not allowed on the parking lot or to engage us in any conversation and will be arrested for trespassing, so I did not feel threatened as I walked in, but they can certainly find out about me from the plates on my car. I don't feel that I am in any danger or that my family is, but it is making me more uncomfortable than I have ever been in the past.

Despite all of this I had a great day at work! I saw people with medical problems or who wanted a well woman exam and/or contraception and one young women who was there for a pregnancy test. A planned pregnancy, we celebrated with her. She said that the protesters told her we would try to convince her to have an abortion and she was nervous but needed a form for Medicaid so came in anyway. She was surprised that abortion was never even mentioned and we were celebrating with her. It is only mentioned when someone asks for the information, we do not give it to everyone. We do not do abortions at any of our clinics, we do not even have an abortion clinic that is a part of our affiliate. There is another affiliate in Dallas that does perform them but it is separate from us.

The amazing part of my day though was the many people who stopped by the clinic to thank us for being there. To find out where to donate time or money to Planned Parenthood to make sure that we stay here for the community. The men and women who offered to watch the parking lot to make sure we were safe and who offered to buffer the patients from the protesters. The people who wrote letters that they have brought in thanking us.

This is why I work for this organization, I know that I make a difference for these individuals. I am doing an important job and I get to hold my head up and ignore the disrespectful crowd and remember why I am here.

It feels good to say that this afternoon. Thanks for listening.

Growing up, I was fully immersed in the pro-life culture. I marched on Washington with my sign. I watched Silent Scream. I took pictures of carved up fetuses and showed them to my elementary school classmates. If my kids mentioned someone like this in their class today, I would be appalled, but back then, it was completely normal behavior.

Of course I hated Planned Parenthood.

The thing is, I didn't know anything about Planned Parenthood. There wasn't one in my town. I didn't know anyone who had visited one. I certainly didn't know anyone who worked at one.

My anger and hatred was borne completely out of my ignorance. I chose only to listen to one set of stories, rather than to all of the stories.

Things like abortion and the discussion between a woman's right to choose and a fetus's right to be born are difficult to sort through. I would love for there to be simple answers to these questions, but I've yet to find them.

In the absence of answers, I want to seek out ways to be compassionate. Compassion for the women who are forced to make difficult decisions. Compassion for unborn babies who are seen as burdens. Compassion for doctors and nurses who help women receive the care that they need.

When we choose compassion, we choose life.

Finding Friendship with Women by Kellen Freeman

The prevailing wisdom tends to be that women think they can be friends with men, but men are always looking for a little "something-something" if they can get it. I'm so happy to host Kellen Freeman here today to help break that myth. I love how he talks about what he gained from his friendships with women and how they were a place of safety, not danger. Thanks, Kellen, for sharing your story today!

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In high school, my closest friends were guys. We shared similar interests, favorite music and movies, and were even in a couple bands together. But when I left for college, that began to change. I found my circle of friends mainly shifting to women. It was a situation not entirely familiar to me, but it was one I’m absolutely thankful for.

When I first arrived at college, my only friend on campus was a female friend I had only spoke to over AOL Instant Messenger. She invited me to a campus ministry that she went to on Wednesday nights. Within that group I was adopted into a group of girls that met together every Sunday night to watch the shows on ABC, Grey’s Anatomy, Extreme Home Makeover, and Desperate Housewives. While I have to admit that I didn’t always enjoy the shows, I enjoyed the company. They cared about me and were interested in who I was as a person. That first year I didn’t have too many guy friends. It wasn’t because they weren’t around, but because they were already in solid friendships and I didn’t see much of them. I met with some guys for a weekly Bible study, but that was about it. The girls were around more often and I valued having their opinions and their friendships.

These girls even helped me to accept my past as a part of who I am. Four years earlier my father had died, and two years earlier I was hospitalized for major depression. It was a story I didn’t tell people because I didn’t like to share it. But after letting out a tiny bit of that story one night, these girls gathered around me, bought a pizza, and listened as I told my story. It was one I had never told from start to end before. The best part was, at the end of it all, they didn’t accuse me of not being a Christian, they didn’t say depression was a sin, they didn’t say anything corny or cheesy about the death of a loved one. They just loved me. They listened to who I was with the only purpose of seeking to know another. It was the best situation to open up to. Since then, I’ve managed to tell my story without hesitation because these girls have helped me to realize that this is not something to run from, but it is who I am.

When I graduated from college and left for seminary, I arrived at my new dorm room in a state away from any friends I had before. I gravitated toward the guys that I had class with because we would play video games together and that helped build camaraderie among us. But usually when I was looking for a solid conversation, I would walk down the hall a few doors to a female friend’s room. We would share the hard struggles we had and our problems in ways I didn’t usually talk to my guy friends about. For some reason I just felt her company was a better fit for the deeper discussions of life than my guy friends were.

As college went on, I met a girl, and as seminary was in full swing I would marry her. Because of the lifestyle two full time students possess, my wife and I are each others primary friendship. We haven’t found too many friendships in our town, so most nights we just spend at home together. This proximity has led to some great conversations, fun board games, and way too many hours spent on NetFlix. In that time, she has become my closest friend. One that I can share anything with, and one that seeks to better know me, help me to become a better person, and one that puts up with my desire for theological discussions at 1 in the morning.

Though we have drifted a part because we are no longer in school together, I think back to the friendships I once had during college and remember how they helped shape me into who I am today. That is something I’m incredibly thankful for, and wouldn’t change, even if I could.

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Kellen is a recent graduate from the Methodist Theological School in Ohio. He lives near Akron, OH with his wife Rachael. He blogs regularly at www.kellenfreeman.net and has a new food blog starting today at www.aheapingtablespoon.com. You can find him on Twitter @kellenfreeman. Call him a hipster because of the v-neck if you must, but he’ll fight you about it until his last breath.


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This post is a part of a series of guest posts about cross-gender friendships in preparation for the Sacred Friendship Gathering in April. For more information about the gathering, check out the website. I hope to see you there! 

Camp Happy

It's been a really long time since I've had a sleep-over. But today my best friend Tina is coming for a visit and she's spending the night. We did this a few years ago at her place when we went to see TMBG together, but that was a while ago and all of our visits lately have been a couple hours over coffee or in a grocery store or getting my iPod replaced. Always awesome, but regrettably short. So time to hang out, go to the midnight premier of the Hunger Games, and just catch up in person instead of over the phone is something that I'm deeply looking forward to.

But sleep-overs also remind me of Camp Happy.

I can't remember who was Gilligan

Camp Happy was pretty much the pinnacle of awesomeness when I was in high school. There were six of us that were close, so a couple times a year, we would pile into our friend Cece's gigantic Suburban (this was in the days before SUV's owned the roads, so it seemed positively enormous) and drive the hour or so out to her family's get-away in the country. I honestly don't remember what it was called for real, but we called it Camp Happy, and that's certainly good enough for me.

I have so many great memories from then. Trying to get through every card, and every column on the card, in Scattergories. Recreating an episode of Gilligan's Island and filming it. Filling out Cosmo quizzes. Dyeing my hair black for the first time. Trying to figure out if we could smuggle some alcohol there, not to drink, but so we could make a flambe.

I remember these things, not because they had any real bearing on the rest of my life, but simply because they were fun.

We forget about having fun too much when we're adults. We have more important things to do. Business to attend to. Work that clamors for our attention. Difficult decisions to make

It's true. As grown-ups, we have legitimately important things that we need to address. There are people who depend on us being responsible, and I'm not advocating that we neglect those tasks.

But we need to inject fun into our lives. We need to find time to do things that energize us. We need to look for ways to let our hair down and relax. We need to accept that we have a responsibility to carve out space in our lives for joy.

We need to find our Camp Happy.

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What fun things have you done lately? Do you have any Camp Happy-type memories to share? Let me know in the comments!

The Best Neighbor

Head here to read the full article. Huge thanks to my friend Gini for sharing this with me.

Fred also told each child, "You are special". Fred understood that God endows every person with unique gifts, and it was his personal mission to nurture both the gift and the child's awareness that she or he did indeed possess the gift. For Fred, life was all about bringing out the best any individual has within them -- within them, but oftentimes not yet fully realized. Not-fully-realized is obviously the case for preschoolers, whose development is still very rudimentary in comparison with what lies ahead for them in their youth, adulthood, and maturity. 

But not-fully-realized is an adult condition as well, and Fred lived out his mission not only through "Mister Rogers' Neighborhood" but in his everyday adult encounters with friends, family, colleagues, and so-called strangers. He used each engagement with another person, no matter how fleeting, as an opportunity to impart a blessing of attention and affirmation on the other. He rarely failed to part from another person without leaving them feeling better about themselves and their possibilities.

And probably my favorite Fred Rogers quote comes from this video (mentioned in the above piece); "All of us have special ones who has loved us into being."



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Please share your favorite memory of or quote from Mister Rogers. 

Smelly, Annoying Boy by Amber Wackford

I discovered Amber's writing when she guest posted for Rachel Held Evans about being a single woman in the Church. She is a beautiful writer and a lovely person and this summer, she may be the first in the virtual village to ever see me play in my band. I was so excited when she told me that she'd like to share about her cross-gender friendship. I'm thrilled to share her post with you today. My friendship with a smelly boy is far younger than hers, but I hope to have a similar tale to tell in another ten years or so.

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Matt and I have a friendship that is sixteen years old. We met in youth group as middle schoolers, and I was good friends with his sister and I didn’t pay him much attention because he was friends with my brother and they were more than a little annoying. Most middle school boys are, I suppose. And they smelled, like lunch meat and feet, which did nothing to elicit a want for relationship. So, in middle school, Matt hung with other smelly, annoying boys and I hung with his older sister and held up my nose because I was too young to know that it is entirely possible to gain a whole lot from being friends with a smelly, annoying boy.

The more time I spent hanging out with his sister, though, the more time I spent hanging out with Matt. And with each movie we watched, each card game we played, each dinner we had, and each prank we pulled on his sister, Matt and I became friends. Like, real friends. The kind of friends who become the first line of defense when the world feels like it’s waging war against you. The kind of friends who stay in driveways long after everyone else has gone home after a movie talking about the movie, and God, and our families, and our church. The kind of friends who bring frappucinos and an empathetic ear when first romances end. The kind of friends who stay connected through phone calls and dinners together over breaks while in college. The kind of friends where I’m now best friends with Matt’s wife and “Aunt Amber” to their son and have a key to their house. The kind of friends who consistently show up for each other, over years, in such a way that being friends starts to look a whole lot more like being family.

I think as a teenager somewhere along the way I was given the message that having a friend like that who was a boy was bad. It could give people the wrong idea, don’t you know. And I’d guess that some of the little old ladies at church did get the wrong impression, but I think that happened because they weren’t willing to look past their assumptions to see what was really there. If they had, they would have seen a brother and sister in Christ taking care of each other in the best ways we knew how at twelve, and then at sixteen, and then at twenty, and now at twenty-eight.

 My friendship with Matt remains as honest, simple, and innocent as it was when we were twelve and we were shooting spit balls at each other at the dinner table. He will always be the guy who can make me laugh when I don’t feel like laughing, and who pesters me for the pure enjoyment that he gets out of it. He is the person who anyone I date has to get along with or I won’t be dating him for long. 

And after sixteen years, he’s still my first line of defense when it feels like the world is waging war against me. After sixteen years, I’m old enough now to not only recognize the benefits of being friends with a guy – who is still smelly and annoying – but, to treasure the gains in the deepest places in my heart. However, I think those gains come not from the fact that Matt is a guy, but from the fact that he is Matt, the one person who has been constant in my life for nearly two decades.

That’s what I hope the little old ladies and other people in church are seeing now when they see Matt and me sitting in church together, with his wife and his son. I hope they’re seeing the kind of connection and closeness that can only be earned by caring for each other over so many years. I hope they’re seeing the pay-off of people who’ve grown up together, in every sense of the word. I hope they’re seeing us individually become better versions of ourselves for the sharpening and challenging that comes from our friendship with each other. More than anything, though, I hope that when they watch us, all of us, Matt, his wife, his son, and me sitting together that they’re seeing, really seeing, what being brothers and sisters in Christ looks like. Because I think it looks a whole lot like loving each other for a really long time.

Eternally, even.

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A military kid who's heart shares space in Michigan and Maryland, Amber is someone who loves loving people and believes that God shows Himself uniquely in the moments when people are enjoying enjoying each other. She writes about the ideas of intentional relationships and community at her blog. Be careful if you become her friend - you'll probably end up in a blog post. But, be her friend. Or at least find her on Twitter: AmberWack.

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This post is a part of a series of guest posts about cross-gender friendships in preparation for the Sacred Friendship Gathering in April. For more information about the gathering, check out the website. I hope to see you there!

On Being a Fairy

A bit before Christmas I had the distinct pleasure of Skyping with my friend Tamara. She was every bit as delightful as I expected, but what I did not anticipate was just how completely won over I would be by her twins. These two little hobbits (minus the furry feet - as we discussed in our chat, they have "kid feet") charmed me over and over.

But the main reason that these girls are my new favorites is because they called me a fairy.

I have read enough Rainbow Magic books to know that fairies are tiny and adorable, and I am neither of these things. They're also magical and I'm pretty sure I'm not that either. But I probably have some powers that I may have to attribute to my newly acquired fairy status. Here are a few of them.

• Seinfeld quote powers. I have a firm belief that there is a Seinfeld quote for every situation. It is rarely going to be culturally sensitive, but there's a phrase out there and even if I'm not saying it aloud, please know that in my brain, I'm quoting Seinfeld at you.
• Weird Klout bestowing powers. You may have gathered that I have kind of a love-hate relationship with Klout. Regardless, I love finding ways to mock it, and I do that primarily by reveling in my own odd areas of influence, but also by finding...interesting areas of influence for others. So I may not actually find Joy influential in profanity or Sonny influential in Twilight or Kathy influential in refrigerator. But they shall receive +K in all of those. 
• Hat rocking powers. I can and do wear hats. Not everyone has that ability, so it must be related to my fairy magic.
• Late to the party powers. If there's something hip and interesting, I will definitely know about it...six months after it's been popular. I do this with uncanny regularity that can only be attributed to something fairy-like.

You can trip me up with things like requiring me to turn in permission slips for school outings on time, enticing me with "one more game" of Temple Run, or by opening a bag of salt and vinegar chips. 

But for the most part, being a fairy is pretty sweet. 

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What are your fairy powers? What is the most ill-fitting (but well-meaning) title you've been given?

Sacred Friendship Gathering

Back in November, I wrote a post about being friends with a man. It spawned some really interesting discussion, which is always a treat. In the comments, several people suggested that I check out Dan Brennan's book, Sacred Unions, Sacred Passions. I picked it up and absolutely loved it. It was so refreshing to read a book that treated cross-gender friendships as normal. Because, you know, they really can be.

Since I read Dan's book, he and I have been in touch. And I'm very excited to announce that I'm going to be attending the Sacred Friendship Gathering in Chicago, April 27-28!

In the coming months, I'm going to do a couple of interviews with some of the presenters at the event and sharing guest posts about cross-gender friends. I'll also be live(ish) blogging the event, both here on my blog and at Provoketive.

Through social media, a lot of us have become friends with people of the opposite gender. We tweet with them, we laugh at silly pictures they post on Facebook, we comment on their blogs, we pray for them. Out in cyberland, friends are just friends, regardless of their gender. We approach one another without fear because we know that relationship is based on way more than whether we're boys or girls.

In our flesh and blood relationships however, we still often carry some of those fears with us. I've experienced  them myself. And it's not just cross-gender friendships, but any relationship with someone who is different than us in some fairly obvious way.

I'm tremendously excited about this conference where we'll have the opportunity to discuss what it is to be a friend and how to be a better friend. Jesus showed us so much about friendship and I can't wait to share that with you guys!

If you're interested in participating in the Sacred Friendship Gathering, you can go here to register. It's just $50 for registration and space is limited.

And if you're in the Chicago area at the end of April, definitely get in touch with me and let's hook up!

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How have your ideas about friendship changed over the years? What aspect of cross-gender friendships would you like to see discussed?

Repost: Lessons Learned

This was a post that didn't get a lot of play when it first ran, but it was an important one to me. It was good for me to think back of the season we had just been through and evaluate what I had learned from it. Jon Acuff is promoting that Finish Year at his blog. I encourage you to go check it out and share what you want to do with others. But while we keep our eyes on the goal, don't forget to enjoy the journey as well and take as much from that as you do from the result.

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photo © 2007 Michel Filion | more info (via: Wylio)
I intended to blog yesterday. I had a topic picked out and was starting to work on a post (I know, I'm supposed to be ahead here. I get it.). I got a few paragraphs in and got a call from Jason.

About a month ago, he applied for a new job and we've been waiting anxiously to see if it came through. He was calling to let me know that he did indeed get the job. In that moment, my day was pretty shot because all I wanted to do was celebrate this achievement. That good news was enough to pretty much set me in a happy place all day long. (Also, not having my own laptop makes me a little crazy. Why is it so hard to concentrate on writing while using a different computer???)

I haven't written a whole lot about Jason's year and a half of school, since that's more his story that mine. But after yesterday's good news, I did start thinking about what I want our kids to take away from that long, difficult season. I came up with a few thoughts that I think are probably good reminders for me too.

1. Education matters. Despite my hubby's excellent work ethic and job loyalty, because he hadn't finished college previously, a number of jobs that he was well qualified for were unavailable to him. Finishing a degree allowed him opportunities that he simply didn't have before. But even if the previous 18 months had not resulted in a new job, learning is never wasted. Jason's degree doesn't really have much to do with his former or new job, but the knowledge that he has still has great value.
2. Dreams don't have an age limit. Many of Jason's classmates were very, very young (possibly embryonic) when he was in school the first time. He had some professors who were finishing up doctorates who were younger than him. But this has been something that he has wanted to do since we've been married. I'm so proud of him for not allowing his age to be an obstacle for pursuing his degree.
3. Dreams require sacrifice. The past 18 months were hard. Working full-time and going to school full-time would be hard already. Add caring for a family to that mix and it's damn near super-human. The end result though was definitely worth it, but the season was hard on everyone and it's a good reminder that dreams don't happen without some blood, sweat and tears (or at least, the tears part. I don't think we had much bloodshed.).
4. Other people are important for success. This year was tough, but none of us did it alone. We had to support one another right here in our family. But beyond that, we had the encouragement and help of our family and friends. The only person who could do Jason's work was Jason, but I don't believe that any of us can achieve our full potential without the help of others. We need community.
5. Achieving your dreams is fun. Despite all of the work and sacrifice and loss of sleep and all of that, when you see something that you've poured yourself into come to life, it is exciting. It's easy to lose that sense of joy in the midst of the difficulties, but when we're pursuing our passions, we need to remember to have fun as well. To quote Dr. Seuss, "These things are fun and fun is good."

What dream are you working toward? Do you have any lessons that you have learned in pursuit of your goals?

More than Friends

I love to ask people to write guest posts about unexpected relationships. I think most of us have at least one of these friendships and I believe there is a lot that we can learn about ourselves through them.

I particularly love this topic because of the many unexpected relationships that I have in my life. I have written about my husband and my dear friend Tina. Those are both relationships that existed for a long time and then had a sudden shift causing me to reexamine them, ultimately reaching something even better.

But I have another friendship that is unexpected, and that’s the one with my friend Rich. I write about him fairly often, but I’ve never written about the dynamic of being friends with a man.

I'm always hesitant to write about this topic because the prevailing opinion in evangelical circles seems to be that married men and women should not be close friends. And no matter how it’s dressed up, it all boils down to the idea that if men and women are friends, they have to have sex. Or want to have sex. Whatever it is, they have to be more than “just friends.”

I do understand that there are legitimate concerns regarding opposite-sex friendships. And I absolutely believe that if you’re married, your spouse’s feelings regarding any of your friends need to carry some heavy weight (like, the most weight).

All pics of us are like this -
Rich blocking a good shot of me

But it frustrates me when I look at all of the rules that Christians tend to make regarding male-female friends. No meals. No car rides. No texting. And good heavens, no front hugs.

You see, Rich and I break all of the rules.

I read that we need to “avoid the appearance of evil.” I mean, he does have that goatee, but I don’t know that it makes him look evil. One site that I read said that being seen together in public will give the wrong impression. I suppose that being put on the same check might give the wrong impression that one of us is a big spender, but we’re generally able to clear that up by requesting separate checks.

The other big warning is that we’re to “flee temptation.”

Let me be clear.

I do not want to have sex with my best friend.

I want to play music with my best friend. I want to eat tiramisu with my best friend. I want to live tweet The Next Iron Chef with my best friend. I want to have conversations about the inane and the insightful with my best friend.

Because these are the things we do with a close friend. We share interests. We share food. We share conversation. We share life.

To the critics out there, you’re right. Rich and I are more than friends.

We’re BEST friends.

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Do you have any opposite-sex friends? Can married men and women be close friends? If you don't want to get into that, tell me a story about your best friend!


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Today I'm linking up with Joy in this Journey for Life: Unmasked where we share life openly. Click here to see the other posts and to leave your own!

Mourning for the Unknown Friend

I woke up yesterday morning to the news that Sara Frankl had passed away. In the midst of rousing kids from sleep, trying to find shoes, grabbing some breakfast, I read posts by folks sharing their memories of their Gitzen Girl. How she touched their lives, how she made their lives brighter, how she was a faithful friend.

I didn't know her. I discovered Sara when Matthew wrote about her a little less than 2 weeks ago. At that point, she was unable to post to her blog, to compose any new tweets, to respond to a new reader. I've heard her sing, have read her words, have seen her pictures, but I never had the opportunity to interact with her directly. I have many in my virtual village, but somehow Sara and I missed one another.

And yet I mourn her passing.

Not for Gitz. I believe in eternity and I believe Sara is sharing eternity in the embrace of the One she served while she was alive.

But I mourn with my friends who did know Sara. I'm sad that they have a season where they don't get to laugh with her, to cry with her, to talk to her, to tweet with her. To be her friend. There's a hole there and even as they choose joy, that void is apparent. My heart aches for them in this season.

I went to church and we sang Stronger:

You are stronger, you are stronger

Sin is broken, You have saved me

It is written, Christ is risen

Jesus, You are Lord of all

Sara's body wasn't strong. It was broken and hurt. Her friends wrote of the emotional toll of hearing her yelp in pain or gasp for breath. Sara wrote about the ways that she wanted things to be and the way they actually were for her. 

But her hope was in One who was stronger. And through her writing, she encouraged others to choose joy. Not joy that ignores pain, but joy that sees goodness in the midst of the pain. Not joy that ignores brokenness, but joy that finds bits of beauty in the midst of that brokenness. Not joy that ignores sadness, but joy that finds others to lean on in the midst of that sadness.

So I mourn. 

And I choose joy.

God, Faith and Invisible Eyewear by Rich Chaffins

This month started with a story about friendship and we wrap it up with an offering from my best friend. In addition to being an adoring husband, devoted father, talented guitarist, skilled luthier, on-call editor, and bottomless blog post suggester, Rich is also a fantastic writer. I love my virtual village, but I get by because of my real life friends and I could not be happier to share Rich's words with you today. Thanks bestie.

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Growing up in a Christian home can be a great thing, and in my experience, it was. I was raised by my paternal grandparents, two of the best people I’ve ever known,  from around 3^rd grade til I graduated high school. As I went away to college, I left their home with many things in tow:  a love of small-town life; lessons learned from years of going to church, as well as the kindness and love I saw my grandparents demonstrate every day; a total lack of knowledge about housecleaning, budgeting, and generally living life on my own; a kickin’ stereo with which to blast Metallica, Nirvana and Pearl Jam; a couple of guitars, also to blast Metallica, Nirvana and Pearl Jam; and lastly, some glasses - one pair for my face and a pair of glasses I didn’t know I had.

These glasses were pretty unobtrusive… fashioned by my experience, with lens prescriptions called in by my family, the pastors in our church, and the televangelists that we watched every week. They only showed up when I was reading the Bible, or praying, or talking spiritual matters with other people. Didn’t even notice them, quite honestly.

Looking through them, I saw things as I was supposed to see them:

• God was love, unless you didn’t have a “personal relationship” with Him through Jesus. If you weren’t one of us, hope you like it hot.
• In the Old Testament, God liked the Israelites; everyone else could take a running jump.
• 6 days of creation meant 6 24-hour periods, and the earth was 6,000 years old.
• Heaven is somewhere else, and the purpose of the Christian’s life was to secure a ticket there someday. Once you did, relax. Mission accomplished.
• Oh, yeah, and God? He’s a white, American flag-waving Republican.

I carried these specs with me, unknowingly, well into adulthood. Through marriage, then children, then turning the ripe old age of 30. Even a few years past that. It was easy. When I met people that had different spiritual views than I had, I felt sorry for them, because they didn’t know The Truth ™. I dismissed their worldview out of hand. Did it matter if they were raised in a different Christian tradition than me? Nope. That was the wrong one. Poor them. How about if they were, God forbid, raised in a different religion than me? Shun them, the whole heathen lot.

You may have noticed I’m writing in the past tense. So. When did I notice I had them on, you ask? On a trip back from a gig. Just riding in the passenger seat, talking, and there they were.

I had known Alise for a while. She and her husband Jason had started attending the church I work at, and Alise got involved in our music ministry. Being the guy that’s in charge of the musicians/bands, I really appreciated both her talent and her very generous availability. She unnerved me when she wasn’t at the piano, however. She had an Obama bumper sticker on her van (there was talk that he might be the Antichrist, after all). She was quite liberal in her worldview, and not shy about talking about it. Ever. Like, not even a little bit.

   

Wait…if you do feel like that, shouldn’t you hide it? It’s not how Christians™ look at things!

Fast forward a few months, and she’s playing keyboards in my cover band, as well. We usually ride to gigs together, because she’s the new person, and nervous, and I want to make her feel welcome. Over the course of a few gigs, we get to be really good friends. Then one day, we’re besties. This is a person I’ve decided is a closer friend than anyone besides my wife, someone who I respect and love to hang out with.

There’s just this thing about her view of God.

I decided that I just couldn’t let this be a block to our friendship, one of those locked-off rooms that we don’t talk about. I knew I couldn’t dismiss her ideas, just because they were different. This was a friend, a GREAT friend, and as such, she wasn’t one of the nameless, faceless masses…you know, them.

So I asked her view on creation. And listened. It was hard. I wanted to shut it out, to cover my ears. But I listened, asked more questions…and noticed that second set of lenses I was looking through.

It’s been a process, certainly.  One thing that’s helped is learning that those lenses are pretty common. We all have them, to one degree or another. Ever notice that every group who has ever talked about there only being one way to look at God says it’s their way?  Telling, isn’t it?

Now my study of the Bible is looking at questions that have been occurring to me lately. Things like:

• Since God puts everyone where and when He wants, what happens to the people He put in Muslim countries? Did He purposefully put them in a place where all likelihood suggests they will not, by our definition, spend eternity with Him?
• If God picks only the people He wants, why does He create “throwaway people”, and they all burn in Hell eternally for the crime of not being chosen?
• Why, in Revelation, is there a gate that’s always open in the New Jerusalem? Wouldn’t that suggest an invitation to outsiders?
• Why are references to Hell in the Bible talking about trash dumps outside the city walls of Jerusalem?

So, I’m looking for answers…and trying to wear as few lenses as possible.

Have you ever removed any invisible glasses? Who or what revealed them to you? What kinds of questions are you asking today?

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Rich Chaffins is a guy with too much to do at any given nanosecond. He lives in the 304 with his lovely wife Misty, and their sons Nick, 10, and Wes, 5. Besides his family, his life is all about the fine art of guitar: playing them, teaching them, and building them. In addition to all THAT, he's also Assistant Music Director at his church. Get to know him and his lame sense of humor on Twitter.  










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Family by Birth, Friends by Choice by Leigh Kramer

Leigh is another one of the contributors to the Not Alone book and for that I am profoundly thankful. But aside from that, Leigh is following her dreams all the way to Nashville and I admire her bravery so much. She is a lovely writer and I'm so glad to have a chance to share her writing with you today!

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It wasn't easy being the only girl amongst the boys on my mom's side of the family. Granted, I was not the sole granddaughter but with Clara and Emily missing most of our celebrations, it was up to me to represent.

For the most part, the boys overlooked the girl in their midst.

There are good memories, like the time we all danced the Super Bowl Shuffle in my grandparent's basement. But if you'd told me two decades ago that I'd someday enjoy spending time with my boy cousins and willingly hang out with them, I would have offered my patented death glare and promptly returned to my book.

Leigh and her cousins

I'm not sure when or how it happened. Maybe college did a number on me. As it turned out, I actually liked my boy cousins. And they liked me back!

It's amazing what happens when we grow up.

For instance, my cousin Adam and I have always had a love-hate relationship. He brought out my competitive juices more than any other person. I delighted in skewering him with the perfect put-down, taking familial teasing to a new level.

And now, it's less hate and more love. I regularly declare him to be one of my favorite cousins. (I tell all my cousins they're my favorite.) We couldn't be more opposite. He's younger, married, a “Chreaster,” and a Slayer fan. Despite those differences, we'd do anything for each other.

There's depth as well. We talk through the ups and downs of life and discuss our doubts and dreams.

Without these young men, I'm not sure how I would have processed the death of our cousin Scottie at age 22. To be able to reflect on our losses together has been healing. We are a family that tends to laugh and joke but our response during difficult times serves to strengthen our bond. I'll never forget sitting at Grandma's wake when Jon turned to me and thanked me for all I'd done during her final days, the way my support had helped him and the rest of the family.

We relate to each other as adults. Some married, some with children, some still in college. Now that I live out of state, I cherish our time together even more.

I don't tolerate my cousins; I love them. I never doubt they love me back and want only the best for me.

Not every family is as blessed as ours. I rarely hear of people excited to return for the annual family reunion. Ours reached 200 people this July. While I love catching up with my second and third cousins, I made sure to have quality time with my favorite boys first and foremost.

My 10 year old self might not have believed that one day Jon would let me pull him on the dance floor at a wedding or that I would be one of the first people Patrick called after the birth of his daughter or that Zach would stand taller than me.

I'm glad our pre-pubescent selves don't decide who to keep in the family. Otherwise, we'd all be missing out.

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In May 2010, Leigh Kramer intentionally uprooted her life in the Chicago suburbs by moving to Nashville in an effort to live more dependently on God.  She writes about life in the South, what God has been teaching her, and her ongoing quest for the perfect fried pickle. You can follow her adventures on Twitter (www.twitter.com/hopefulleigh) and her blog HopefulLeigh (http://www.leighkramer.com).











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Living Room Confession by Kyla Cofer

I met Kyla through the Not Alone book. She submitted a wonderful piece for that, and we extended our relationship beyond. I am so thankful for her courage in sharing her story about depression and I'm glad to have her posting about intentional living today on the blog.


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I once went to Confession - in my friend's living room.

I sat with my four closest friends, watching an old episode of Parks and Rec, while we waited for 9 o’clock to arrive so we could make our way to a goodbye party. The episode ended; that Amy Pohler - she’s a funny one. Netflix began to load the next episode and we commenced our chatting over our outfits and the men in our lives. 

Amanda asked me a personal question, and I took a deep breath before allowing the conversation return to something less important. I didn’t really want to say the words I planned and needed to say since 7am that morning. Now loaded and ready for laughter, Parks and Rec starts playing and I hope that I’ll get out of my confession. 

There’s a reason Amanda and I get along well. She pauses the sitcom before the first word is spoken, sets down the remote, looks at me and waits. 

Fudge. Now I have to do it. Thank you, girl, I really wanted to get this out. 

Two years of intentional community building pays off in moments like these. This was confession time, and confessions carry a load of fear with them; the possibility of rejection, of judgment, of shame. In the past, my confessions to friends wreaked so much havoc in my internal self that I steered clear of those relationships after, sure that the friendship wasn’t meant to be, anyway.

I’m almost confused as I write this, because all of those feelings of guilt and shame that normally accompany my confessions, never even entered the room that night. Not once. Not before I walked into the house knowing what I wanted to say, not during the conversation, not after. It was almost as if fear never existed and the word itself held no meaning. My friends stopped their primping and looked at me with only eyes of grace and compassion. The need for forgiveness disappeared. Stories were shared, stories of empathy and truth. 

Instead of wanting to run away, I only wanted to run towards. Towards the building of more community, depth of friendship, and years of stories.

And then we packed up, drove to a bar, and sang our hearts out in karaoke.   

Do you have friends who will not only hear your confessions, but encourage them? Do you fear speaking the truth about the ugly, imperfect parts of you? What can you do to be a person who both gives and receives compassion?


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Kyla blogs about social justice and growing deep relationships. She loves to engage in philosophical conversations while eating ice cream from around the world, and lives as a rebellious Mennonite who ballroom dances when everyone is watching. Check out her blog at www.kylajoyful.com and follow her on Twitter.

















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How To Get Into Trouble by Jermaine Lane

Jermaine first commented over her a couple of months ago. We talked some on Twitter and he's just a wonderful person to get to know. I love folks who are interested in participating in the Virtual Village and Jermaine is absolutely one of those people. And for a bass player, he's got quite a personality! (I kid, I kid!) Also, he says spankin' a lot. I'm so glad that he's offered up this great piece about trouble-making for you today!

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“I am human; I consider nothing human can be alien to me.” 

- Terence, ancient Roman playwright.

Loving our neighbor as ourselves is, by far, the most troubling command ever given. Loving God can be a wrestling match at times, but it has nothing on loving another human. Esp. when they don’t look like, talk like, dress like, believe like, and live like we do.

“How am I supposed to love this person when everything they believe is contradictory to what I believe?” “How am I to even connect with that person when I’ve been raised to avoid them or save their souls at all costs?” Religion has taught us to stay with people who match us: like-minded people (bonus points if they look like us, not just with race). So what do we do?

Honesty Bridges the Gap

We can lead with a smile and make the first move. There is common ground, we are all human. Being transparent will bridge the gap. We all have hurts, wounds, loves, hopes, dreams, etc. Expressing our feelings is scary, yet it connects us on a deeper level. Honesty creates an environment of safety, and walls come down when people feel safe.

We can address why we are feeling uncomfortable in the first place. I find myself at times wanting to use the Bible to justify my insecurities with people and attempt to hide behind random scriptures taken out of context. What’s up with that?

The more honest I am with myself, the more I see my fears. When I can say to someone, “this is how I feel based on how I was raised and my past experiences” than quote scriptures, those walls tend to crumble and conversation can begin. Also, I have to keep in mind they might have their own reservations in talking to me.

A Great Way to Mess Up An All About Me Day

Yes, it can ruin an otherwise comfortable day. Yes, it is unpopular and can cause us all kinds of drama. It shakes up the uber-religious, stay to our own tribe mentality. Yes, we will get put on blast, but I would rather upset people by loving a person than ignore or judge that person to please people.

Loving another person regardless of anything about them pulls us out of ourselves, and into that shared human space. God lives in that space too, grinning from ear to ear as a proud Poppa as we stammer over our words and make the effort.

We can spankin' do it. Showing love to people is our calling, saving souls is up to God. The trouble that comes is an unfortunate side effect from tradition and fear. Jesus dealt with it by hanging out with and loving “them”. We can do the same. We can get our hands messy and love. It isn’t always pretty, but it is beautiful.

How can you get into trouble and love a person today?

[photo by Andrew Morrell Photography]

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By day, Jermaine Lane is a Qualified Mental Health Provider in Fredericksburg, Va. By night, he is a Writer and Poet. He lives with his lovely wife Stephanie, their soon to be baby girl Lil' Lane (premiering this fall who made an early appearance in July!) and his wife's cat Chloe. He writes primarily at Life Unrestricted: www.jermainelane.com. Tweet, and he will tweet back to you @jermainelane.







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A Little Late by Vernon Harmon

I met Vern through a mutual friend of ours. We would often comment on the same Facebook updates he posted, liked one another's comments and just generally seemed to have a fair amount in common. He sent me a friend request because we seemed "friend compatible" and that alone was reason enough to get to know him. He's a great source of info on They Might Be Giants and running and I'm so happy to be able to share his writing with you today!


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For various reasons it occurred to me this morning that I've never said thank you for all the help you gave me when I first started. I wouldn't be where I am today without your help getting on my feet. So a 13 year belated thank you. Hope things are going great for you and your family.

When I logged into Facebook one day a few years back, I was met with the above message from an old work colleague. To say I was taken aback would be an understatement. This was someone who was always very driven and has since gone on to create his own business with at least moderate success. I know I liked him when he started, but I can honestly say I don’t recall going out of my way to help him.

After some consideration, I rattled off the following response:

Thanks very much for the sentiment, but I think you'd have been fine. You were always on the ball, very focused, and creative. I remember being impressed with how quickly you took to the job. I appreciate you looking past me often being a jerk back then, and I'm glad we've kept in touch, even if we haven't been really close.

You see, when we worked together, I was quite a hot-head, with poor social skills and an over-sized opinion of myself. My explosiveness was even captured in a nickname a different co-worker gave me: Verno the Inferno. The thing is, though, I never wanted to be that person – the butt of jokes, the living caricature. But once you get a label, it’s not only hard for others to see you in a different light, it’s hard to see yourself differently, too. You get stuck in the rut of expectations, however unpleasant.

Photo by Vernon Harmon

I changed jobs in 2000 (and, not coincidentally, also met my future wife) and took the opportunity to re-invent myself: I became humble, outgoing, cooperative, and calm – and a lot happier. Qualities once called out as areas of weakness for me now became cited as strengths. I make this sound easy, like I simply awoke one morning and decided to be a different person, but it took a lot of soul-searching and a lot of focused effort. In the end, though, I discovered, interestingly, that it was much easier to be this person than the Angry Young Man. (Yes, I just dropped a Billy Joel reference.) As a result of this change, though, I often found myself looking back on my previous self with some amount of shame, hence my self-effacing comment about being a jerk.

My friend’s unexpected expression of thanks touched me, but I assumed that my response would be the end of the conversation. It wasn’t. I soon received the following response:

Sure I may have been fine, but we'll never know about that parallel universe. I guess that's what I meant - I may still have wound up in the industry via some other route. I might have been productive on [X] if you hadn't been working on the project. But I'm here because of the things that did happen and the people who were involved. And for that, I am thankful. 

As for you being a "jerk", you know I learned a lot from that experience as well. And after working in the industry a while, I realize that even at your worst you weren't a bad guy. I'm glad you were able to reflect on your experience and improve yourself because of it. I'm not blowing smoke when I say that it's been at least a little bit inspirational for me. I don't think a lot of people can look at themselves that way and then follow through on changing what they don't like. I struggle with it myself.

Wow. I was blown away. I knew what my transformation had meant to me, but it never occurred to me that it would mean anything to anyone else. And the recognition that “even at [my] worst” I was still a good person flew in the face of that long-held, deep-rooted, secret fear that people cannot look beneath the surface to see the truth of your intentions, your compassion, even when your actions seem to run counter to those ideals.

I wept.

I wept long and hard.

I felt like I had been granted forgiveness, like I had been given permission to let go of my shame over the old me.

I doubt my friend had an idea what his words would mean to me any more than I did about how my actions would affect him. But whether he meant to or not, whether I meant to or not, we both had an impact on each other simply by doing things that felt right to us, and by the very act of interacting.

We do not exist in a vacuum. Relationships are at the core of the human experience. Virtually everything you do can, and probably does, have an impact on someone else, whether or not you or they realize it – and I don’t mean that in a Butterfly Effect kind of way; I mean a direct, tangible effect on someone else.

I found myself so inspired by this experience that during the years since, when I find myself thinking about some old acquaintance, occasionally I will send them a note about a particular recollection of them that means something to me, or a note of thanks for some kindness they showed me, or even an apology for an old wrong that I regret. The results are frequently revelatory.

Have you considered telling someone thanks for having a positive impact on your life? Or apologizing for an old slight? What’s stopping you? You may be very surprised by the results.

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Vern is the last of the great Philosopher-Kings. He ponders the meaning of life in his Fairport, NY, castle where he dwells with Queen Wendy and two princesses, as well as three black panthers, the protectors of his grounds. He is an inspiration to some, an annoyance to others, and a friend to all. He loves clever wordplay and music. He has considered creating a blog many times, but has been unable to narrow his wide range of interests down to a single topic of focus. You can read some of what he has written here and here, and
he can be found on Google+ here. You can alsofind him on Twitter but that account is mostly used to autopost his running exploits.



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