Growing Pains of Friendship Circles

There was a time in my 20's, when I would say without question, that I had hundreds of 'friends'. Perhaps it was the leisurely lifestyle of Los Angeles or perhaps it was a byproduct of an adolescence spent mostly alone.  I never saw myself as fitting in while growing up, although I laugh now as I'm not entirely sure if any of us ever recall fitting in during our awkward teens. Either way, it wasn't until I left the nest (and the state) to attend college that I believe my circle began to grow. Dorm living does that for you I suppose. A house full of 18 year olds, away from home for the first time in their lives, learning how to be responsible functional adults together.  Not sure how responsible fake id's, late night pre-exam parties and my new found obsession with boys was, but I was definitely discovering the necessity of a well rounded support network. For the first time in my life, it seemed as though we were all on the same playing field. There was no division between the Prom King and the Mathletics Geek. We were all 18, clueless and in need of knowing that we weren't alone. By the time I graduated I had an insatiable desire to keep my circle growing. What I failed to begin realizing was that we would all continue to keep growing further and away .  A guy once told me in the form of a breakup speech that 'People come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime'. While I had trouble appreciating the eloquence in the midst of getting dumped, I later understood how true those words really were.

From the beginning, I looked at everyone as my best friend. I loved knowing that there were so many lives connected to my own. I loved the idea, that I the unpopular kid that spent most of my childhood trying to win over my peers without success, now had an arsenal of amazing people in my corner. In return, I hoped that offered them the same. If human nature is generally universal, I think the basic construct of relationships can in essence be inherently slightly selfish. We desire connection because it makes us feel loved, gives us an opportunity to feel as though we make a difference and hopefully in the end, well thought of.  Trouble with that is sometimes the 'take' out weighs the 'give'. Over time, you begin realizing that sometimes you're the one making the effort. Instead of constantly initiating the calls, I began pulling back to see if anyone would notice. It was a cycle that seemed to repeat itself every couple months. Although rarely was the shift Earth shattering, since the friendships seemed to be a steady rotation of the coming and going. In the end we always reconnected and it was like old times again.  All along the way though I think circumstance clouds one's perception. It's like having bad boyfriends... if you date enough you forget what a good one is like. The same can be said about friendships. The quantity outshines the quality and discernment becomes incredibly dull.

It wasn't until life changed dramatically on me with a move and marriage, that my eyes grew sharper. Thousands of miles between here and there can really pose an issue in the effort department. In an age of technological hyper speed advancement, the phone seems a rather archaic vessel of communication. Facebook has replaced the occasional email conversation and Twitter is the new text. Passive interaction with a comprehensive spectrum of visual information. We can look up anyone and know exactly what they're doing at any given moment. We have vested interest in their lives but ironically they may never know that we actually spent a portion of our day thinking of them, unless we offer the conciliatory, 'Hey how are you?" wall greeting which almost always results in the "I'm great, you?"... A public display of vague interactions that lacks any sense of real human connection. An Internet full of exchanged pleasantries... in the end leaving you feeling even more isolated. I'm somehow reminded of that After School Special style of story where Jimmy moves away with his mom, longingly waving and watching out the back window as they make their way down the neighborhood street.

I suppose the test of friendship begins right in that moment. You discover those that will make the effort and those that perhaps may not. There lies the difference between a season and a lifetime. I surely had many 'Reasons', those fleeting acquaintances that seemed to fade the very next day. I had many, many 'Seasons'. The ones that witnessed so much of my evolutionary journey and allowed me to be part of theirs. Then there are the Lifetimes, the laughs we simply will never forget, the time that flies without our knowledge, the milestones we witness, the connective string that knows no distance. Those are the dwellers of my heart.

As a 35 year old married woman, I wonder sometimes if that was it. Did I meet all the 'lifetimes' I was going to meet? I knew this was coming, as I observed those in my group that married before I. Married life switches up priorities, it reallocates time. You find yourself in a new type of circle: 'Married Couple' and  'Married with Kids', the later we have not been introduced to yet but I have no doubt that's coming around the bend.  At every phase, there seems to be adjustments. For someone like me, that is quite comfortable with routine, I am reluctant to shaving off any more. Alas, there is an undercurrent of instinct that is seemingly becoming more and more acute and selective. I'm not jumping nearly as eager as the puppy I once was. In a city of millions, a bustling metropolis such a New York, I probably crossed paths with hundreds on any giving day. It's taken a couple of years to feel the roots growing beneath me and you take for granted how easy it was to meet new people as an 18 year old in their first year of college. Slowly but surely the social network is webbing outward but just how big do I really need it be these days? Am I ready to let go of that lonely little girl inside me? Am I ready to hold out for the Lifetimes and spend the rest of the time cultivating them?

Who knew a city so overpopulated could feel so incredibly lonely? But is it really, or is it my unfair bias? The needs of my younger self seem to like making the comparison but the new adult growing inside me, is feeling the pains of finally shedding expectation. When did someone else's love become so much more important than my own self-love? When did the number of friends in our personal world matter...Oh, yes when Friendster, Myspace and Facebook started counting them for us! At the end of my days, after I received all the life lessons, I hope I made a difference. Most importantly I hope I gave as much as I got.

Can Christians Remember to Love like Jesus?

After walking home from completing some errands I decided to pop into the church next door to my home. There is something about sitting in the quiet of a still church and praying that reminds me to stay connected to my faith. This morning something a little more unusual happened.

I had settled myself towards the back pew and began praying when I started to hear the sounds of rather loud chatter. At first it was indistinguishable but my thoughts immediately went to judgment.  In my own inner monologue, I said to myself, "I can't believe people are talking so loudly in church...It's like a library", there's certain etiquette one maintains and an expectation of behavior in a place of worship. Eventually the talking got louder as the two gentleman began to approach behind me. It was at this point that I was able to put the hints of conversation together. I realized that the small group I had passed on my way in, were actually patients visiting from a rehab facility. Perhaps this was a requirement of their treatment or a transition out of the facility. I wasn't quite sure, but I began to listen all the while feeling shameful in some ways. Not only was I've eavesdropping, which is rude, but I also began having guilt about being so judgmental at first. These men struggled daily with their inner demons. Drugs and alcohol had become their salvation and now they were being brought into the fold of real saving grace. It was apparent that they struggled with this course of treatment, perhaps were even slightly resistant. They spoke of a female counselor whom they loved, as much as they may have loathed. She seemed to be successful in opening them up. Poetically enough they remained open as they continued to talk amongst their peers rather noticeably, within the walls of this otherwise peaceful cathedral.

Their conversation, though brief, inspired a realization that Jesus' love knows no bounds. Unlike humans who, at times, bombard, command and then persecute, God found a simple gentle way of showing his love. This group of men, had indeed been brought there not by choice, but the experience ignited their spirits. They began talking about faith, about the Christians that they knew that had strong faiths. They talked about their shortcomings with drugs and alcohol and the needs to improve their lives.  While they may not have had the prescribed etiquette of church behavior, they had received the message ever so subtlety. I watched as others from the group walked around the various stations of the cross and other holy artifacts. One never knows the inward voices on the human heart, except for God, but they seemed to be awed by the beauty and peacefulness.  What I witnessed before me, was God's unconditional love being bestowed on these gentleman that I was so quick to judge when first hearing their voices. While some of us may choose to pray in silent meditation, it is possible that just by fellowship with others in a place of worship, prayers were being made in between the words. It was a good lesson to remind me that God has a place in his heart for all of us and so shall we offer the same.

As I sat, thankful of the reminder of what faith really entails, I had another opportunity offered as I left. The men now all gathered near the front door with their guide, seemed to be unsure of how to feel about themselves in such a place as this. They seemed to have that uncomfortable body language, not knowing whether to stand or run. I think we are always our own worst enemy and judge, no matter what our demons may be. As I walked past them, I smiled knowing and believing that we all belonged there. One of them in particular responded with his own gentle smile. We connected not by backgrounds, but by acceptance. It was the most human I have felt in quite some time. It's amazing how life gives you these moments to be a better person, if you pay attention. I think being Christian is about understanding your faith and striving to be the example and not the demand.

Post Valentines Report: Men are making a romantic comeback!

I used to hate Valentines day, mainly for the reason that I usually had a 'stand in' boyfriend at any given moment. Most found the frivolities of hallmark holidays way too cliche and more importantly way too legit in defining a relationship, a relationship. ie "If we spend holidays together it means we're really a couple"... said the guy after months of dating. Hence, Valentines Day was on the top of the list of no-no's. Perhaps it was an LA thing. The land of Peter Pans happily making their way girl to girl without any real commitment. Oh hell, maybe it was just me that they weren't that into. They wrote a whole book and film adaptation on that right? Either way, it made experiencing V-Day in NY so much better than before. Not only was the city bustling with men of all demographics carrying bouquets in hand but I too was the blushing recipient of said arrangements.  There was something wonderful and inspiring to see so many briskly walking through Manhattan with flowers in hand. Whether it was a single long stem rose from the local botega, or a Wall street exec proudly grasping his giant blood red two dozen, all the men seemed to walk a little differently. Like a peacock flaunting their feathers you got a real sense that these men weren't pressured into the hallmark festivities, they weren't beholding to their spouses or their lovers, they participated willingly and with a look of absolute joy. 

This raised an observation...I saw far fewer women with such bouquets in hand, or red heart shaped adorned boxes or candies and it made me wonder if the genders had switched somewhere in our social evolution. I suppose the romance of Valentines does fall most commonly into the male lap but should that necessarily be the case? Even I, a newly married woman, found it surprisingly difficult to figure out the best way to show my husband my own Valentines love. Ultimately I settled on taking him out for a steak dinner. What man doesn't like a good steak and a glass of Chateaunuef Du Pape? Although being married presents any even funnier predicament... we're married, which means we share the money... So I guess we took ourselves out to dinner. lol. Nonetheless it was deliciously decadent and romantic although the feeling still remained...What does Valentine's day mean for women? Is it a day where we feel entitled to sit back and test men or at the very least give them the lion's share of the effort? I would hope not... but I have to say I spent the day observing others. The men looked elated and the women looked either angry or expectant. I'd have to say the men this year get an "A" in my book, for today when I went to Whole Foods for my morning coffee, all the roses were gone! All that was left, were sad wilted and random remnants. Go guys! What a comeback! Now we have to get these gals in gear!

Strength: A lesson learned when the wrinkles begin to form

I suppose it's apropos that my first stab at blogging deals with the concept of 'Strength', mainly being that of the inward emotional type. Such a bold revelation that happened just as suddenly as this first post. I spent the first year of marriage learning more about myself and my relation to others than I did in the 34 years thus far. I relocated from Los Angeles, a city that welcomed me at the naive age of 18 and cradled my upbringing for 15 years. In that decade and a half I thought I was living the life of an 'adult'. I had an apartment, a car payment, credit cards and social calendars. What I lacked was experience. A checking account doesn't make you a woman or a man, a car note is far from real responsibility and breakup number 2 with rocker boyfriend of the week doesn't sufficiently add up to the challenges one encounters in the face of bonafide turmoil. Granted, it all helps shape who we are, but I was mistaken to think that I had somehow peaked in my awareness. My 'wordly-ness' was just another delusion of Tinseltown. A backdrop for what was to come.

I met marriage head on with a cross country move, leaving behind everything I had and was in the West Coast. I packed my bags and took the leap laughing all the way. Of all things, the wedding was the easiest to tackle. It was the new city that stumped me, it was hitting reset on the career that near debilitated me. It was the first 'real' moment of adulthood that proved to me that every heartbreak in LA was just a training ground. Two months into our marriage, we had discovered that we successfully had gotten pregnant, never guessing that it could be so easy. So we thought. Just as soon as we received the news, a week later the smile turned to concern when our doctor could not locate the fetus in the embryonic sac. It was suggested we wait another week and test again. At week 7, there existed only a growing empty sac. We learned this horrible trick of nature had a name- Blighted Ovum. At this time our first physician casually suggested that we abort the pregnancy. Despite his expertise I had found evidence that miracles in the situation can and did occur. My husband and I decided to put our faith in God and hold out for his word. If it was not meant to be than a miscarriage would be imminent. We waited 12 weeks for that sign. Days before an appointment with a new OB/GYN I began to have symptoms of a potential miscarriage. Our new physician immediately sent us in for ultrasound that same afternoon.

Over the 12 weeks, I suppose we had some time to grieve, we had time to hope , we had time to accept all possible outcomes... at least that's what we had thought. In a darkened room with my husband's hand in mine, we watched the monitor as the lab technician painstakingly attempted to locate a fetus or even a heartbeat. I remember glancing at her face trying to gauge her reactions. Their training goes beyond the science as it was impossible to read her expression, but I knew she was desperately trying to locate some sign, ANY sign of life. I turned once again to the monitor catching a glimpse of my husbands eyes that could not help but water...12 weeks, countless prayers and many tears...there still remained simply an empty sac. Our child had stopped developing many weeks before and there was nothing to do but accept this fate.  After the procedure was complete a very kind eyed attending physician came into the exam room and looked at us both without speaking. Though he was not at liberty to discuss the findings without first contacting our primary doctor, we knew just by his silence our worst case scenario had begun to happen.

Within minutes of leaving the hospital I began to fully miscarry. Three hours at home alongside my husband we had lost what was left of any evidence of our pregnancy. So many weeks patiently waiting and the book had closed suddenly and without much pain. It simply drifted away from us. It took time to heal both physically and emotionally and perhaps there will always be a part of me that remains a bit scarred. In  the following months we looked forward to being able to begin trying again. We accepted our outcome and thought ourselves courageous for waiting as long as we did for God to step in and show us the road. Months would go by, and the spoils of getting pregnant so quickly the first time made trying again so difficult. Month after month were mini heartbreaks. You go into it trying to not 'try' but who's really good at that anyway? It defies human nature especially the nature of two people that came so close, only to begin hoping again. We are at 9 months of trying and exactly a year from when we first got pregnant. A Year? A year has gone by and somehow we're still here, trying, hoping and trusting that indeed there is a road. A first year of marriage being met with such a challenge as this. Amazingly and with much gratitude, I have never felt more strongly about a partner. Neither of us imagined a honeymoon phase such as this. I never knew what real loss was until now. I never knew about life problems that went beyond the occasional breakup or lack of funds. It was finding love at the surrender of a life I had on another coast, it was losing a child without ever getting to meet them, it was testing a fledgling marriage with the hope that we can survive everything. All along there being no guarantees of anything.

I have no doubt the road ahead will be difficult. There is so much uncertainty in trying to conceive, there is fear in my climbing age, mounting costs of Doctors visits, treatments and whatever other things lay before us. There is also the reality that God, does have a purpose and a plan and while our agenda to have children is natural and beautiful it may not unfold the way we had hoped. This is the strength of character I never knew until now. I see her more and more in the mirror along with a couple extra wrinkles here and there. If I quiet the head I believe I hear a very steady beating of the heart. A centered self that only comes when you have left youth behind. In the midst of disappointment and challenge I'm finding myself growing beyond my own expectations. I find my marriage building with stronger blocks and know that this foundation though absolutely saddening will not destroy that which is wonderful if we persevere. At the end of night, is a breaking dawn that cast shadows away. It will illuminate the road ahead and warm the chill.