I’m learning to treasure friendships. I think I’m finally old enough to fully appreciate them without them feeling like too much work.  My daughter (who is beautifully becoming one of my best friends) and I talk a lot about how hard it is for introverts like she and I to make and maintain friendships.  We’ve come to the glorious conclusion that friendships are worth all the sweating and anxiety!

Friendships teach us that we are not designed to navigate life alone.

A couple of years ago, I made myself go to a women’s small group class at my giant new church. I felt God insisting that I needed to work on developing new and maintaining old friendships.  The group is called G-3:  Give, Get, Grow.  The concept and execution for G-3 began in the imagination of a lovely, creative extrovert-disguised-as-an-introvert who had always longed for good friendships:  friendships in which women affirm each other with acceptance,  inspire each other to grow to their full beauty, and teach each other to give out of the abundance.

I have learned so much about friendships from my fellow G-3 sisters.  One night, one of the presenters was a woman who taught us about friendship based on—of all the glorious comparisons–shoes!  She explained that women need several different pairs of shoes.  She had us bring a favorite pair to the group. Our shoe represented the different kinds of friendships we need. Some shoes are practical and sturdy enough to get us through rough terrain; some are whimsical and elegant—perfect for celebrating life’s momentous occasions; some are comfortable and worn enough to soften hurtful situations; while some shoes are simply trendy and fun-loving, like a friend you call when you simply want to enjoy life together.

Those of us who went through that particular G-3 class have developed lasting friendships as a result. My G-3 sisters are a closet-full of wisdom, talent and fun

I have always had wonderful women in my life, from women I admire who inspire me, to women who taught me not to take myself too seriously. Sometimes, friendships hurt; but I have learned from those friendships to develop healthy boundaries without completely isolating myself out of fear.

I’m still working on connecting and staying connected.  I’ve seen people get older, perhaps even lose their life partner, and watch their children grow and move away.  They are left with only the friendships they seeded into.  Life is both too hard and too beautiful to do alone.  Grow some friendships.  We were made to thrive in community.

With that in mind, here’s a little excerpt from a memoir I’m writing that reminded me of the beauty of friendship:

“Hey, let’s pretend I’m the princess, and you are my servant, and…”

“Wait!  Why do you getta be the princess?  You were the princess last time!”

“Okay, okay.  But the prince loves me, then.”

Six-year old me released an exasperated sigh that caused a mini coughing fit. Wiping the little beads of sweat gathering at my temples with the back of my hand, I sniffed self-consciously and flipped a dark tendril of hair over my shoulder.  I wiped the sweat on muddy, pink corduroy cover-alls and turned away as regally as a bare-foot, snot-nosed princess could muster. 

“Okkayy…fine.”  I meandered distractedly away, looking for ingredients to make a special “soup” to go with the lovely mud-cakes Adriana and I had made earlier.  The mud-cakes were baking on one of the railroad ties Mama had squared to make a mini garden for her peppers and tomatoes.

Reveling in the romance of the prince and servant fairy-tale, Adriana lifted the stringy tattered remnant of a mop Mama had given us so we could play “house”.  Standing it up, she twirled on one bare foot, giggling as she hugged the mop to her.  She wore an old brown apron splotched with bleach stains over a yellow terry-cloth romper that tied at the shoulders—a lovely little summer princess, despite her less than ball-worthy attire.  Suddenly, she dropped the Mop Prince and plucked a yellow dandelion, tucking it behind a sun-bronzed ear.  Her light brown hair ruffled in the breeze, as, eyes closed, she resumed her waltz with the woebegone royalty. One-two three, one-two three, one-two three…

Soon dizzied by the summer heat and spinning, she leaned the Mop Prince up against the tin siding of the that old trailer house and zig-zagged toward where I had busied myself plucking purple irises from the next-door neighbors flower garden.  I looked up, laughing at the site of Adriana moving sideways toward me.  We both dissolved into a fit of giggles when Adriana tumbled dramatically onto the soft grass beside me. The prince was momentarily forgotten as we tore the soft violet petals of the irises into tiny shreds, dropping them into an old Crisco shortening can to make flower soup. 

We worked contentedly, happy just to be together, forgetting, too, which of us was princess, and which of us was servant.   

God tailor-made summer mornings for moments like these–moments when friendships formed and ripened in the heat.  Any flowering little girl can become royalty when watered by imagination; and, at least for that moment, tattered mops, mud-cakes and iris soup were everything necessary and enough for two six-year old princesses to play and learn about life and friendship.  

Though life may not always be a fairy tale, friendship turns everything regular to fun and funny.  Friendship turns even the mundane into something extraordinarily lovely.  And friendship blooms best when sprinkled with shared experiences and possibilities. 

Go ahead, friend.  Fill your closet with every kind of shoe-friend, and take turns being sometimes the princess, sometimes the servant.