Good Friends Make Life Better
I’m a busy mom, home-schooling and working full-time. All three of us take karate — me and Soccer Boy on Tuesdays, and all three of us on Thursdays. We have a fabulous karate teacher — actually two. And, to my complete surprise, one of them has become a very good friend in a very short time.
We’ve been taking karate since mid-July. I invited this instructor over Saturday afternoon, and we got to talking and talked the night away … literally. It was the first time in about ten years that I have been able to talk so freely with another person … and this is the first woman I’ve ever been able to open up so freely with. Knowing that there is someone praying for you and available to talk with you when life goes to Hell is a good thing. My mom is always there, of course, but, well, she’s my mom. Y’know?
But she’s not my only friend, of course. I have another friend whom I have known since shortly after I left my husband — which I suddenly realize was eight years ago on Halloween! Wow. Where did the time go?
Since the remodeling, first move-in, robbery, second move-in, foot surgery, bronchitis, etc., my house had become a real mess. So my other friend, who cleans houses for pocket money, agreed to come and help me get it under control. She cleaned for me twice a month for several years, until I lost my good-paying job and couldn’t afford the outlay anymore. I’m about to find a way to afford it again, because I felt SO good about what we accomplished Saturday morning.
She walked in the door and just stared: “Oh. My. Word.” So I said, “Now you know why I told you I needed you. I know we aren’t going to get to everything; the whole place is a disaster. If we can get the living room, kitchen, and bathrooms under control, I will be very happy.” She sent me off to the kitchen to finish washing the breakfast dishes and clearing away the paperwork, and she went off to the bathrooms. We met in the living room and tidied. She even helped me hoick stuff up to the attic and out of the way.
We got a lot done in a short time, and I felt good when my new friend came in the afternoon, even though the bedrooms were still a mess. New Friend got the tour anyway, and we laughed about how hard single motherhood makes life. I also felt really good when the boys came back from their dad’s and came in the front door. They just stopped and stared. Boy Scout says, “Is this really my house?” (Cheeky!) And they have been very careful not to lay their stuff down and clutter it up again. So far.
Anyway, I felt a lot better after the weekend of fun, fellowship, cleaning, and talking with friends. Good friends. Friends who don’t judge me because my house is the Pit of Despair, and who won’t tell anyone who would judge me. Friends who let me just talk. Friends who don’t mind sharing their struggles. I mean, we all have them, but there are precious few people we can share with who won’t secretly despise us for our problems.
Thank God for my friends.