We Will Always Be...

I had been thinking about Margie a lot, wrote a story about her, then I found out she had passed away little more than a week after I became determined to find her again.  I sit here sobbing.  Why had we lost touch?  What happened? 

In a later essay, I wrote how I had finally decided it was too late to repair another friendship that had ended.  I still am not sure why.  I am re-thinking that.  Some time later, I wrote about how I felt that God had spoken through my Pastor, telling me that it isn't time to write somebody off--not yet.  I will try again, and try again.  It is too late for Margie, but not for me.

The sermon today was about passing on the joy we feel inside instead of hiding it.  I know Pastor Jeff was talking about the joy of knowing God, and I understand that.  We Lutherans tend to be a bit stoic.  While we don't have to be bible-thumpers, we do need to express our joy by example.  An example was given of one candle lighting many others to heal the darkness.

The bigger picture, as I see it anyway, is to pass on little moments of joy--the joy of a baby's smile or first steps, the happiness of really good chocolate, the sighting of a cardinal or paying attention to what interests the person we are speaking to. (Pardon the dangling participle. You know what I mean.) Tell the people you care about how you feel, don't make them guess.  Tell them how proud you are.  Let them know they are worthwhile beings.

Say something nice, or say nothing.  We have been given this advice from childhood in one way or another.  It's too bad we don't heed it.  We are quick to criticize, slow to compliment.  When given a compliment, we often turn it into a scoff as though our complimenter doesn't know what they are saying.  You may as well tell him/her that they are too stupid to recognize the ugly side of you, that the beauty they see cannot possibly be real.  Oh, you think I can write, or draw, or sing?  You can't be serious....a  word given in praise should never be treated with derision, but with graciousness and respect.

I will send this essay today to my lost friend, hoping it will be read and not discarded.  Maybe we can mend our differences at the Dairy Queen or at Starbucks, perhaps with a long talk or walk.   In my heart we will always be friends.

I don't ever want to be too late again.