Coaxing Friendship Between Siblings

There were days when I wasn't sure of it myself: this brave notion we were telling them.

"It's true," I had insisted. "Friends may come and go, but family is always there. Brothers and sisters can be really close friends."

They had stood there scowling. He was mad that she had crumbled his Lego creations by mistake, and she was hurt that he had laughed at her.

"MOM! John told me to be quiet!"

"MOM! Morgan is bugging me. Tell her to go away."

The battles raged. Pink tutu-ed Morgan had stomped her foot, sticking out a hip with all the attitude a skinny six-year old can muster, and John had rolled his brown eyes in droll ten-year old nonchalance.

Once, in a story that has become legend at our house, Morgan had thrown her tiny five-year old arms backwards, lowered her head in charging rhino-fashion, and barrelled across the room to tackle her big brother. Snaking out a long arm, John had held her off with laughing glee.

I had felt my patience slipping down to hide among the Legos on the floor.

"Hey, you guys can being really close friends someday, but we've got to work on this now..." my voice had trailed off. Mediation took time, and each person had wanted to explain their side.

Besides lots of prayer, and this repeated refrain of someday you can be really close friends, there is one other thing I'm so glad we got into the habit of doing as a family. And it started unexpectedly as newlywed marriage advice.

"No matter how mad you are right now, tell me five things you like about him," my newly-married friends and I would badger each other in those early years. Sputtering and sighing, my female friends and I would hem and haw, before softening and speaking aloud several things we loved about our men.

Overwhelmed one day during a sibling battle between my two children, surrounded by Lego blocks, stuffed animal bears, and Barbies in various stages of disrobing, I had tried it on my kids.

"John, Morgan, some day you two are going to be really close friends. John, you're going to want Morgan's advice on girls, on relationships, and maybe on fashion. Morgan, you're going to want John's perspective on guys, on relationships and life, and you will want his big brother input. So before we leave this conversation: John, what are three things you like about your sister? Morgan, what are three things you like about your brother?"

Their eyes had flashed fiercely at me, their eyebrows declaring to the neighborhood the ridiculousness of my notion. Stuck, though, they had paused, grumbled for a moment, and then quietly reflected.

"Morgan, I like how you..." John's voice had been gruff but soft, and I had watched Morgan's shoulders relax as her brother had spoken aloud the good he saw in her. She had followed, in a small high-pitched voice. "John, I like..." and I had seen the anger melt from my son.

They flounced away to their separate rooms that day, still slightly angry, but the bluster had faded. I had thanked God, prayed hard for them, and looked forward to the days ahead.

And now eleven years later, I am so proud of them. John is a towering twenty-year old, and Morgan is a willowy sixteen years old. Purposefully looking for ways to connect with each other, they head out for ice cream some afternoons, play computer games together, and stay up late into the night laughing and talking. They are close friends, dear to each others' heart, and thankful for the other person's input into their lives, friends, and heart issues.

We still sometimes hear angry roars downstairs, but they are short-lived. John and Morgan know how to apologize and how to work for reconciliation. And that truth? We're convinced of it, and I thank my God for how he can weave friendship between siblings.

I wish I could remember who to thank for the idea of having kids do that too.

As my youngest son watches his older siblings now, it gets to start anew. What has helped you and your siblings build closeness? What have you found helps your kids build closeness in their siblings? 

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Why Community is Worth It and Why You and I Need It

Photo: Young Rok Chang, Creative Commons, cc license

Cris-crossed pale skin marked out where the young girl's swimsuit straps normally lay. Tiny caramel-colored shoulders and back hunched shivering inside the church in a black funeral dress. The summer tan on that small girl several rows up from me just bellowed out the contrast of this sudden funeral. Friday attendees slid quietly into wooden pews, and a row of us lined up in solidarity. Community in that moment looked like singing along to worship songs that spoke of heaven and that clung to the promise that God never lets go "through the calm and through the storm." Community was wiping tears, hugging tightly, and grinning over stories of potbellied baby pigs and tractors, before going back for seconds on the delicious green jello dessert and the home-made sweet pickle slices.

Sunday morning, peeking out across the church audience during a song, I spied two former youth group girls from years ago. Connecting after the church service, we hugged, smiled, and tried to cram several months' or years' worth of information into a morning conversation. Community was remembering stories, names, details, and being thrilled to see each other again. We laughed and wished for more time, and a coffee date still needs to be planned.

Sunday night I watched women of all ages compete in blind-folded diapering contests on two mannequin babies at a baby shower. Gentle, white-haired Marilyn groaned good-naturedly and tried to get out of the second-round of competition by diapering slowly. The younger and older women around us shrieked laughter to see this surprise streak of rebellion in her. Marie and I raced valiantly, but Marie won by a split second. Bible study women from the last year, accustomed to digging in deep to the Bible and to each others' lives, arranged lemon bars and marshmallow brownie bite desserts on their laps as Melissa balanced Gail's bifocals on her nose and held the Bible out at arm's length to read her devotional. Community was women laughing together, passing wrapped baby gifts, and nodding in agreement as Melissa read of God's perfect love that is strong enough to kick out fear, and of this God-King who chases us and loves us, no matter where we go. 

"I've never been in a church where I felt so much like I belonged, as I do here," she said, the young pregnant mom, curly hair winding around her freckled face. We nodded, glad that she felt welcomed and safe in our church, but we saw too that this was a bigger thing. Women in this Bible study came from several different churches so Alicia's feelings pointed to something greater.

Community. We need it, we desire it, and, I'm learning, it's something we have to fight for, and invest in. Can I confess to you that many days my extrovert-introvert mixed personality needs to be reminded to step outside and to invest in people? Some days the allure of a quiet book, a television series, or the valid tasks that need to be done around me pull harder than choosing people. And while we all need down time, the truth is we all need community too.

Because the truth is, I am a better person for having known Julie and Nellie, Mihaela, Marie, Marilyn, Becky, and so many more. I learn from them and from their stories, and we have the privilege of being in various communities together.

And you? You have potential for community all around you. The neighbor across the street, the young mom who sits three rows up from you in church, or the somber-faced guy at the gym playing basketball each week, and the older widow you know. You are missing out, and I don't want you to, and they are missing out on not having known you yet.

So, put down the book with me, and turn off Netflix too, please? Can we encourage each other today to step outside and engage? The loss is too great not to. You are a better you, with them around you, and I am a better me because of them around me. 

Besides, you can't imagine the hilarity of seeing women battle it out in blindfolds and diapers.

Romance: Tundra- and Grandma-style

 "I'll see you Wednesday," I called up the stairs to my co-worker, shutting the door behind me.

Crunching through powdery snow, I pulled my black French scarf higher across my cheeks and nose, shielding out the frigid air. Minnesota twilight looked blue silver, and neighborhood Christmas lights peeked out from snowy branches. Swinging my book bag to my shoulder, I shoved mismatched mittened hands into pockets deep, and turned the corner.

Idling in the driveway, steam rising from a still-cold car, my bearded husband waited for me. It stopped me in surprise, and I waved giddy to him behind the frosted windshield.

"You came and got me?!" I murmurred. "Thank you."

The walk home wouldn't have been far, but the near-zero degree temperatures have been making recluses of us all. I kissed him, cold and happy, and we drove home.

It's those little things, huh? Little things we say and do that make all the difference in relationships. Romance, Minnesota tundra-style.

I asked them one time, Nick and Betty, an older couple in our church, what their secret was to a long marriage. They spoke of simple things:

"I like to make her breakfast every morning, just simple stuff," he grinned. "She likes oatmeal and a glass of orange juice."

"She makes me pies," he smiled, wrinkles creasing up in crescents beside twinkling eyes. "She knows I love 'em, so she makes pies."

He shifted his feet then and set down his thick winter gloves. "I like to bring her flowers, just because. Not for any reason or for a birthday or anniversary -- that doesn't count," Nick asserted, shaking a finger at me, "just because."

Betty smiled shyly later, peering up at him through long eyelashes, a petite woman next to him. In church, they sat side by side, and stood together to sing. And today? I imagine Nick still made Betty breakfast, and I wonder what pie she's whipping up. Romance.

For you and me tonight? I'm reminding myself that it's the "simple stuff" that makes the difference in our relationships. Whether it's for siblings, parents, friends, kids, or spouses, take some time this week with me to focus on little ways to show love.

Now, excuse me. I need to gather ingredients for a chicken pot pie.

What little ways do you like to show love to people around you? (Those in email can click here to join the conversation.) 

(PS. My daughter took these photos. Didn't she do a nice job? :)) 

Hey, You! (Yes, You... The Word is Out)

 A light powder of snow dusts the deck, reflecting white in the darkness, and cars from the six pm rush-hour whirr by on the road outside. Vivaldi violins and strings crescendo suddenly from the internet radio here, and muffled bath noises pinpoint my five year old's position.

Hey you, friend? Yes, YOU. 

(Smiling over here in a snowy dark Minnesota twilight.)

Can we pull back the shutters and the curtains of our lives for a few minutes here tonight? I encounter so many women who are feeling alone, lonely, and on the fringe. Or we are women who wrestle with hard things and don't know where to show them.

Caught up in the rush of children's lives, or caring for the needs of older relatives and parents, there seems to be little time for deep talks and growing friendships some days. Surrounded by people whose lives are full, or whose lives seem polished on the outside, how do you break conversation flows with these empty heart holes?

So, today.... tonight, let's let it start here. None of us have perfect houses, perfect marriages, perfect kids, perfect sinless lives.We are all human, approachable, and messy; and yet the God of the Universe knows our names and loves us lavishly.

Vivaldi plays in flawless formation in front of me, but chaos scatters the floor behind me. Plastic soldiers, rubber bands, Star Wars cards and figures, merge with torn cardboard pieces of a deep fryer box, remnants of a five year old's imagination. Several supper plates with leftover rice and sweet and sour chicken still lay sticky on my table, and a crumpled washcloth balls up next to the sink.

You and I, we probably both have a couple piles of papers that need to be sorted, and our laundry rooms -- well, let's not even go there.

But in the rooms with the piles, the sticky, and the scattered, beauty still resides. It's in the vase of cattails on the table, arching majestically, calling out slices of summer; and in the sweet faced preschooler whispering pretend conversations with stuffed animals from his room.

I open my front door, and pull you in. Up my stairs, into the kitchen with supper's remnants still scattered, and into the dining room. Look past the rice pot to the gleaming world map below it, will you? and let's slide the plates to the side as we plunge into conversations about where you have been and where you dream to go.

"Decaf coffee or tea? I have both. Tea?" I grab my own mug, still warm from my orange zinger and sip, while we wait for yours to heat.

Slipping onto my L-shaped cream couch, beneath the chocolate wall and the stretch of windows, we can push the remote controls to the floor, and you can curl up under the green blanket.

"The hard part of today?" I'll embarrassingly, shyly, and in honoring-vagueness, confess of an angry tirade, crabby phone conversations, and a mad heart that crossed metaphorical arms.

"The good parts of today?" I'll share of God softening my heart, and teaching me over the hours to look for good, to choose joy, gentleness, softness, and humility. I'll tell you of hopeful homecomings, apologetic hugs, and happy make ups. I'll laugh with you over jokes with my ninth grade daughter as we worked on Algebra I issues, and I'll show you the cotton-ball snowmen crafts I made this afternoon with Daniel.

How about you? 

I'd love to get to know you more, friend. When you get a moment this week, will you grab a hot drink, click here, and tell me more about yourself?

What are you drinking? What does the room you are sitting in look like? What is the hard? What is the good in your life right now?

Smiling at you from a snow-dusted Minnesota suburb in deepening twilight. Vivaldi plays, toys remain strewn, and I'm going to make another cup of tea. Join me?


(linking up with the Imperfect Prose community too.)

(Photo credit)

Need to See God? (He's at a band concert)

"Hey, can anyone be me tomorrow night?"

Her husband recovering from a kidney transplant and in the throes of frequent doctor visits, my friend flashed an email through space. She needed someone to attend a band concert with two of her children and to video-record the music.

"While I can't be you, I would be happy to drive ___ and ___ to the concert and to record their band pieces," replied another woman, warmly.

Suppers slip on to their kitchen table on busy nights. Children jump into approved cars for quick hospital visits, and an email army stands ready to help.

Need to see God? I see him in women whipping up extra suppers and in grandmas wrangling seat-belts.

Need to see God today? I see him through a brother-in-law's generous living-donor kidney and a stitched up side. I see God's work in early hospital releases, lowered chances of infection, and in mylar helium balloons from a women's Bible study with the note: "You cause us to be astounded in our God! Thank you." The balloons bob in a yellow stucco dining room, as kids study and a shaved dog wags tail.

Need to see God? He's in kitchens, and carpools, and trips to the store for groceries.

And the joy? It flows over and down.

Linking with Ann at A Holy Experience and Emily at Imperfect Prose.

What All Women Desperately Need

Coffee gurgles invitingly from the kitchen on my left, while jade plants hang low to the right of me, heavy with new growth. 

She came this week, on a night of icy rain. Glass image shards of her face flickered from corners of my glass-cut front door.

"It's hard to make friends sometimes," she murmured over hot citrus tea.We spoke of middle school and family moves, finding commonality in frequent goodbyes from our past. She and I laughed over husky cold voices and nagging coughs, grabbing runny-nose tissues.

"It's worth it -- this hurt of another goodbye. Friendships are," I said softly, a truth harvested from my own life. She agreed and swirled her tea. We talked more, laughing and getting to know each other.

- - - - - -

Another day this week, I raced out the door, juggling a platter of hummus and veggies, a crystal bowl of chocolates, and map directions to a friend's new house. Arriving breathless and late, I shrugged off my jacket, and grabbed them for tight hugs. "I've missed you!" I exclaimed into sweet-smelling hair.

Four young women idled in a pumpkin-hued kitchen and dining room, stirring creamy mac and cheese, assembling elegant cheeses on a plate, and dipping decadent truffles.

"We used to have a book club, but no one really read the book. Well, just two of us did. So then we changed it to a Pinterest party, so our husbands feel like we're being productive," she joked, "but really we just get together to eat food and talk." She went on to speak of a few projects that emerged from their times together, but you could see the deep camaraderie and history these women shared. Babies were passed and updated on with cheerful intimacy. Hugs and jokes were frequent and warm. At one point of the conversation, tears broke out among the four of us with relaxed naturalness, followed by laughter.

I nibbled on salty slices of romano cheese, and slid into creamy bites of brie. Over orange pepper slices and hummus, we spoke of lives, marriages, in-laws, and family. Having watched most of these women grow up over the years, I was proud of them, saw them as equals, and was humbled to be invited to join them. "We should invite So-and-So to join us," they mused among themselves, already seeing ways to spill out into others' lives. I grabbed some more blue brie before heading home to relieve my babysitting-daughter.

- - - - - -

Tonight I join two old-time friends of mine. Over fabulous salads and sandwiches in a two-storied glass restaurant, we will watch the cars and pedestrians pass by in the dark streets below. A red and green fluorescent dragon will arch his back against the building across the street, and we will unfold our lives together.

These friendships between women... we all need them. We can all start them, or continue them, or spill them out to others around us. Ask God to give you his eyes to see the people around you, then grab your calendar and your phone. "It's worth it"-- the time, the risk of pain, the investments. It's worth it.

Have you seen these two older posts on friendships? "Of Fires and Friendships: And How Do You Be a Good Friend?" and "Of Friendships and Peanut Butter."


Photos from Microsoft clip art.

Strong Hands & Wrestling Matches

I scrawl across torn notebook paper that I found in a camp cupboard. Five hundred teens and youth leaders race across a wooded campground, and I pause my conversations, my camp games, and my zip-lining to meet with God.

He's been calling me, and I needed to face the hard questions. Grabbing my ninth or tenth cup of coffee, I poured in creamers to make up for bulk-brewed coffee smoldering for hours over heat, and sat down at a sunny table near the fireplace.

"What's keeping you from total all-out radical obedience here, Jen?" God whispers, and I scratch across white and blue lines, daring to put into words what I have been afraid to speak aloud. In print, they are just as scary, but it helps somehow.

Three pages later, I am face to face with the Creator, and he still asks the hard questions. I answer honestly, and fold the papers up small, slipping them in my back denim pocket.

Three days later, in a tinkling Italian eatery over artichoke pizza and a salad sampler, I breathe deeply for courage and bare my soul to two close friends from college. With flaming face and staring at the table, I draw boxes with my finger on the black smudged table top, as I talk and cry.

They listen, ask gentle questions, affirm their love, pray for me, and urge me to obey the Holy Spirit's obvious promptings.

In the ancient book of Zechariah, there is a section that has grabbed my attention this weekend. Apparently, the Hebrew translation of the word "encourage" is "let your hands be strong" or "to strengthen the hands."

I love that when God talks to his people in this section, he tells them to not be afraid and to let their hands be strong. "Let your hands be strong," God says, as he asks his refugeed people to work on the temple/church there.

"Let your hands be strong and don't be afraid," he tells me today as I wrestle with obeying God in every part of my life, even the agonizing hard parts.  

I love that he tells us to encourage, or to strengthen the hands of, friends who need us. As we encourage, we help them have strong hands for the jobs set before them also.

Thankful for friends who do that to me, and for friends whom I have the honor of helping to strengthen their hands as well... I link with Ann, Duane, Shanda, and Imperfect Prose.

What are you learning this week, friend?

Photos courtesy of Microsoft Clip art. 

Friendships, Flourescent Lights and Free-Throw Lines (Guestposting at Breakfast in Moscow)

Atop creaky honey-colored bleachers in middle school, Sara Hepner* crushed a wad of chewing gum onto my hair, smushing it far into the strands. The basketball game of high school boys raged on below us, and foul horns bellowed. Lanky high school boys lined up at the free-throw line, and my fingers crawled behind my head on reconnaissance. 

Later that night under harsh fluorescent kitchen lights, ice cubes and shears flashed and twisted the light in my mom’s gentle hands. In angry tears, I poured out the story. She listened and then asked the question I knew was coming... 

Join me over at Breakfast in Moscow for the rest of the story, will you, friends, where I have the honor to guest-post? Breakfast in Moscow's Elizabeth is an international journalist, a world traveler, book-devourer, fine cheese aficionado, and long-time friend. Join me there for the rest of the story, will you? 

Linking also with Imperfect Prose.

Photo Credit: Microsoft clip art. 

* Names have been changed. 

Of Fires and Friendships: And How Do You Be a Good Friend?

After following orange detour signs around winding silo-topped farms and rolled up bales of hay, the state park road dropped down a hill and along a glassy river. Camp sites sprinkled both sides of the road and we crunched into gravely sites. 

Later, wrapped in cool autumn night, we folded marinated chicken, red onions and peppers into tin foil, and dropped them in the embers. As night fell cooler and supper steamed, we unwrapped our lives, opening wide. Fire flickered on halves of faces as we shared struggles, worries, joys, and God’s transformations. Silence soaked up our fire for a few moments as we sat under more stars than I had seen for years and listened to campground noises. Then filling our cups again, we laughed and talked some more. 

Various seasons of life have made me deeply grateful for friendships, near and far. Some friends I see weekly, others every few months, or even once every few years; and some friends are wrapped in family skin or siblings’ wedding ties; nonetheless I am deeply grateful to them all. 

As an old friend of mine ponders friendships, and various ones near me reminisce about days gone by, here is my vow. I choose to be a good friend, regardless of circumstances and locations, by…

• Choosing to listen often, and speak when needed.

• Choosing to love you unconditionally.

• Choosing to be transparent and vulnerable.

Deep caring friendships in today’s world can be elusive. I am blessed to have them, and work hard at being a good friend in return. What do you feel are the top two or three traits of good friendship? What trait do you wrestle with being yourself?

 P.S. I love getting to know you guys. Do you want to grab a photo of yourself that expresses something you enjoy, post it with a small description, and then copy my site's link into your blog post? We can hop into a show-and-tell time together. :) I love camping and being in the woods. Even just a short walk outside causes me to breathe deeper, stretch my shoulders high, and smile, connecting deeper with God. 

Tag! Those in email, click here.