Andy and I both had the dearest, most wonderful friends
while in college. You know, the friends you can call at 2am, the friends who
don’t judge you but will tell you straight up what a jerk you’re being, the
friends who know the name of your first pet, and—the holiest of holies—the
friends who understand you.
My husband and I both went to college in different states
than where we now live. And our closest friends still live in, or near, the
states where we met them. Facebook, email, and texting are all great for
staying close, but they aren’t the same as getting together in person whenever
the mood strikes.
Andy works one-on-one with students outside of an office
setting, so he spends a lot of time with 13-18-year-olds. I spend much of my
time as “mom,” and when I’m working, I work from home or with clients with whom
it would be inappropriate to become close. We do live in the town where my
husband grew up and many of his wonderful friends are still around. We would
love to spend time with them; however, most of them don’t have children and so
our lives, schedules, and activities tend to be very different. We also had a
fantastic community built around one of our children’s extracurricular
activities, but it just sort of melted away when those activities stopped.
As you can see, we have a problem. A problem Andy, stealing
from Arundhati Roy, calls a “friend-shaped hole” in the universe.
I have lots of awesome friends here; mostly moms from church
and the people who stuck around after law school. These people ROCK and make my life better in a million ways. But oftentimes it's hard to coordinate hanging out around various lessons, nap
schedules, work, trial preparation, kids’ illnesses.... it’s a long list.
Also, and perhaps more importantly, it’s just darn HARD.
Friends take a lot of effort, and we are (all) tired. Way
too tired to pick up the house for guests or cook dinner or drag our two little
ones plus so-n-so’s three little ones out in public where goodness knows what
kind of mess might happen. With all those obstacles, it takes quite a bit of
effort, time, and energy to reach the level of friend-closeness that naturally
arises when sharing a dorm room or editing poetry into the wee hours of the
morning over several cups of coffee.
I added this friend-shaped hole to my prayer list recently.
After about three days, I had a "duh" sort of realization that Andy agreed with: this is
not a friend-shaped hole, it is a TIME-shaped hole. The other realization I had
was that *I* could do something to fill
this hole (another "duh," I know. But I’m a fairly introverted person so this concept
is foreign to me). I did not have to wait for a perfect situation to arise, the
phone to ring, or an email to appear in my mailbox. *I* could reach out to
another mom (or two or three) who very likely feels a bit of a hole in her own universe.
It wasn’t easy, but I seized the opportunity that being home for a full month
with a sick baby allows: I made phone calls and sent emails. I even wrote notes
and, in one instance, baked a cake. I began reaching out to various people who
are outside my normal circle to see what might happen.
(If you think you are one such person, trust me, you aren’t.
If you’re reading this blog I already consider you a dear friend, even if we
don’t have time to hang out or have dinner or play board games.) This was an effort to make our circle bigger, so I’m talking
about people like:
--the mom and daughter who are always at the park when we
are, and numbers have been
exchanged but with no true expectation of a phone call ever being made;
exchanged but with no true expectation of a phone call ever being made;
--the woman I encounter in a professional role on a regular
basis and have “clicked”
with, but with whom I have never pursued a conversation outside of our work together;
with, but with whom I have never pursued a conversation outside of our work together;
--the neighbors down the street with a baby 1 month older
than ours;
--the other neighbors who brought us wine to welcome us to
the neighborhood;
--the older-than-us neighbors who are just so darned nice.
In all instances, I received a genuinely warm response, but
comments such as:
“I would love to,
but we’re always so busy we don’t ever get to see anyone anymore.”
“One kid or the other
is always sick and so plans always fall through.”
“I’m in trial...
maybe in a couple of months?”
Keep in mind, all I was saying is “let’s have a playdate,”
or “let’s coordinate a trip to the park,” or, “how about a quick lunch
sometime?”
Trust me, I get it.
My husband and I almost always have to say “no,” too. Andy
works evenings/nights and 12-hour Saturdays and Sundays are family day. We have
one child who still sleeps 12 out of 24 hours, and another child who goes to
bed no later than 6pm every night. Laundry has to be done and
groceries have to be purchased. When we have a spare moment, we see our family
who often feels like they see way too little of us.
So between your schedule and our schedule we are left
with.... nothing.
I don’t have a solution. I’m not even trying to suggest that
parents overschedule their lives, leaving little time for anything else. The
fact is, infants need naps. Kids get sick. Toddlers have early bedtimes.
Cultural enrichment is a good thing once or twice a week. And certainly, work
is essential for survival.
I am saying that friends, even
“surface” friends, make life better. They make marriage better. They make
people better. They add a dimension of fun, commiseration, and, perhaps most
importantly, perspective, to life, all of which are healthy and good. So I plan
to keep this in my prayers and thoughts for a while. And not just for Andy and
me, but for any parents of small kids who may feel a bit of their own time/friend-shaped
hole in the universe.
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