What have you done?

I was reading Philippa's blog this morning about "What haven't you done," and I thought I'd just filch her idea, but give it a twist and make my own list of things that I have done, including the things I listed in my comment.

• I’ve baked all my family’s bread and developed my own high protein recipes for bread.
  
• I’ve watched a spider weave its web.
  
• I’ve held a newborn kitten in my hand while it died.
  
• I’ve raised three baby wrens when a cat killed their mother.
• I've cried when family members died, and laughed when others were born.
  
• I’ve trapped and relocated wild animals.
  
• I’ve marveled at the Rockies while flying over head.
  
• I’ve held my newborn granddaughter in my arms and seen the look of wonder in her mother's, my own daughter, eyes.
  
• I’ve danced with my husband in the kitchen when there was no music playing–at least none that anybody else could hear.
• I've seen my parents celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary, and they're both still around a decade later.
  
• I've watched storm clouds gather, form, and drop their load of rain.
  
• I've felt both pride and fear as my children started school for the first time, and again when they left home for college, and again when they got married, and again when they told me they were expecting.
• I've been awakened by birdsong in the morning.
• I've been lulled to sleep by the sound of frogs and crickets.
  
• I've watched the full moon come up.
  
• I've seen Haley's Comet.
• I've felt the satisfaction of a job well done.
• I've sung in a girls' trio.
  
• I've felt the warmth of friendship.
• I've seen the wonder in a child's face during midnight Pascha services.
• I've read books while swaying in the breeze in the top of a tree.
• I've gone fishing with my Dad and Mom.
• I've felt both the emptiness of loneliness and the warmth of companionship.
• I've climbed part way up Mt. Shasta.
• I've felt the freshness of the morning breeze and seen the dawn turn the sky rosy.
• I've watched the stars come out on a clear, moonless night.
• I've walked in the shade of trees still laden with their blossoms, while the earth beneath my feet was already strewn with their petals; and breathed in that sweet, Spring freshness.
  

What about you? What have you done?

Friends

What are these people we call "friends"? Who are they? How are they defined? How do we find them? How do we make and keep "friends"? How do they make us feel connected? What makes you feel 'connected' to your friends? I'm curious to know what others think about this.

Wanted: A Mutual Admiration Society

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lbdSnVOc9ew



The other day a lady on one of the several Orthodox fora I subscribe to made the comment that being Orthodox can be a very lonely thing. After thinking about this for a while, I was reminded of this song that was popular back in the mid 1950's when I was a little girl. I got to thinking about loneliness and friendship and all that stuff, and I wondered why a person feels lonely in a Church that preaches love, acceptance, and forgiveness? I mean, we're all in this together, aren't we? We're supposed to "bear one another's burdens" and encourage one another, aren't we? There doesn't seem to be much of that going around in any group of people, not just Orthodox. Oh, there are always the small groups of people who are "BFF" and who have known each other forever who form such tight cliques that no one else is really welcome into the "inner circle." People are, "of course," welcome, but they are usually and completely unintentionally relegated to the periphery and never truly accepted fully. This is natural, but it's sad.

Everyone, in my opinion (which is worth what you pay for it), is born with an innate hunger for acceptance. It's more than just "acceptance," it's a need to know that you are recognized as "special" and valued even in just a small way. There's an innate hunger for a true "Mutual Admiration Society." People vie with one another to give the prettiest, most thoughtful, most elegantly wrapped presents at birthdays, anniversaries, Namedays, Christmas, whatever; but all this competition is not exclusively aimed at pleasing the recipient, although that figures largely in it. There is a kernel of the thought that just maybe the giver will be recognized as "special." When friends, even very good and long-time friends, look at each other, there is always that tiny searching for a spark in the other's eyes that says that the friend recognizes you, the person, the special and unique person who has intrinsic value. Friends like this are rare and hard to find and beyond value. I wonder if that's because we are all searching for that spark in another's eyes and not trying to ignite that spark in our own eyes for our friends. What is it that we are afraid of? Is it that we fear that the other will not reflect our attempts at friendship? Do we fear an ultimate rejection? Whatever it is, it is pervasive and apparently incurable.

What do we think will happen if we do not see that spark of recognition and acceptance? What do we think will happen if we are ultimately rejected? Would anything change? Does our perception of our intrinsic worth depend on another person's recognition of it?