Catching up with old friends is like taking a deep breath after being underwater for a long, long time.
Old friends know a little bit about your history, and sit back to hear what’s new. Good, bad, or otherwise, the listening is there — without judgment — and a free and easy dialog can happen.
Then, too, is the awareness that you are hearing another human being revealing, sometimes, painful personal things about themselves, which you can only listen to without the ability to change.
And somethings you wish you could change things, because the friend is in pain. After all, what kind of person wouldn’t want to help a friend in need?
But who can help the chicken out of it’s egg? If you do it too soon, the chicken dies. Same with the worm and the butterfly.
So, listening is the only thing to do. It’s okay to witness pain. It’s okay to see struggle. Being invited to participate in that kind of growth can be a frightening experience, and seeing a friend’s struggles can be a bad scene. But if the friend knows that it’s all a struggle, then watching them squirm out of their cocoon is a wondrous thing indeed.
I don’t have any children. I always wanted kids. And I’ve heard parents talk about the same kinds of pains watching both their children being born, and watching them grow.
We are all someone’s kid. Someone, somewhere, has seen each of our struggles, and knows us as we want to be known.
That’s the credit which is due for me today. I thank each of my friends who have watched me struggle without telling me I had to be a certain way, or do something in particular, save for not murdering or injuring anyone physically — which I am capable of doing — and those friends know who they are.
Letting me struggle may be hard, but thank you for that. I’ll be who I am because of your allowing me to make my own mistakes, not yours.
Thank you.
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Okay,
Father Luke