Friendship

James Qwilleran, human protagonist of Lillian Jackson Braun's "Cat Who" mysteries, writes a regular column for the Moose County Something. When he runs out of ideas, he asks Koko to choose a word from the dictionary and he writes 1,000 words on that subject.

That's how I feel today. What do I write about? Suggest a topic, any topic.

Not too many months ago I felt as though I would never make a friend here in Oklahoma City. Now, thanks largely to my church, I have people who call and email me. How are you? How is the car running? (The battery needed a charge during last week's cold snap.) Did you finish the book you were writing? Do you want to go to lunch? I now have new names to add to my prayer list, taking priority over Denver contacts I might not have seen for a year or more.

When I mentioned this to a dear friend, he asked me: "For a reasonably friendly (if not outgoing, and probably extremely shy) guy, I have difficulty making friends in new places ..... Any idea how I might change that?"

How I could relate. I told him how lonely I've felt at fellowship dinners where the only conversation is what I initiate. Have you ever felt that way? What would you say to someone in that quandrary?

Thanks to all of you who have proved to be such dear friends.

Intense Faith

Celise, my brace-yourself-I’m-going-to-hug-you friend, came to me today with sad news. The 23-year-old son of her choir president died earlier this week, from a fatal seizure.

Celise said she told God it was too much. But in the midst of the swirling questions, she remembered Sunday’s sermon. Her pastor preached that God calls us to have intense faith. An interesting sermon for a day celebrating mothers—perhaps God was preparing their congregation for what lay ahead.

The word intense has several meanings.

The first definition, “extreme in a way that can be felt,” made me think of one of those ten gifts of grief, exponential growth in faith. God has been with me in a tangible way. Even as I’ve wept and wailed about Jolene’s death, I’ve felt His arms holding me up.

The second definition, active, involving great effort, also resonates. That reminds me of the deliberate choices we’ve made to believe; to affirm God’s sovereign love when our hearts are breaking. Why I call it a sacrifice of praise.

Concentrated, or narrowly focused, faith, also applies. Everything in my life, my prayers, my worship, revolves around Jolene’s death. As I’ve shared many times, I can’t sing a hymn without breaking down in tears. Her passing has concentrated my attention on the reality of the resurrection.

Thanks for sharing, Celise. You are another “gift of grief,” friendship deepened in the cauldron of my pain.

Thanks to all of you who share, who have proven friendship as days and weeks have lengthened into months.

Return to Work

Today I went back to work. After half my normal hours, I felt like I had worked an entire shift. Tomorrow I'll ask my boss if I can work half-days for a couple of weeks. Six hours was too much.

But going to work was good for me. For periods of time, my mind was caught up in my work and the book I was listening to on tape. When I wanted to talk, I'd turn around, and chat with my seatmate about how my cat handled the stress of last week or about one person who is (repeatedly) expressing her sympathy in a way that makes me uncomfortable. My coworker understands, and when I turn around and go back to work, he doesn't feel offended.

In fact, my coworkers have bowled me over with their kindness. They sent a gigantic floral display and collected almost $175 additional as a gift. Six or seven of them left work to attend the memorial service on Friday, and today, everybody was ready with a hug, a quiet word of concern, an offer of help.

I left work at my usual hour. When I pulled into the parking lot, grief landed on my heart, increasing its weight a thousand percent. The full horror and pain of my loss jumped on and dug in claws.

At least our cat Talia (a lynx point Siamese) has returned to normal. She raced around the house and through a maze, glad that her two moms have spent a normal day without unexpected guests. Her sheer joy and relief gave me a reason to smile.

God has seen me through another first, going back to work. Another first. Tomorrow morning I go to file for death benefits.

By God's grace as shown through all of you, I know I will make it.