On Prayer and Friendship

I have a problem. Pretty big problem, actually. Gets in the way a lot.

I want the world to love me.

I want to be known for who I am, what I believe, the way my mind works. I want people to laugh at my jokes -- at least a mercy chuckle (I'm aware that some of my attempts at humor are real groaners). I want people to look past my appearance and into my eyes and heart. I'm deep, and I want to know others as I want them to know me. I ask a lot of questions. I expect thoughtful, truthful answers. I've been told I expect too much.

Trouble is, that isn't how the world works. Most of the time, situations call for me to be shallow and superficial. It's not a good fit.

Eleven years ago over dinner at a Souplantation, a wise man told me, "Margaret, not everyone is going to like you." I bristled at those words. I did not want to believe them.

But now, I see he was right. I still don't like those words;
I do believe.

In the last decade, quite a number of friends and a few siblings have fallen away from me. I don't think I pushed them (though they may have a different view of the story). But for one reason or another, these people who were so important to me left my life. I've attempted to contact the majority of them, but either elicit no reply or I receive a response that is obviously stand-offish. The polite folks issue an acknowledgement, but not an invitation to renew a deeper bond.

Makes me sad.

I know that life circumstances change. I realize that the nature of relationships must alter to fit current status. But, well, it just plain sucks that the change means these folks no longer wish to have conversations with me. I counted some as my best friends for a season. Some seasons gratefully lasted quite a long time. So long, in fact, that I did not anticipate the ending.

I feel like I'm standing at the top of a hill, waving. But these important people walked away without a final goodbye. They forgot to wave back. They didn't tell me that their "See you later" really meant "Goodbye." So I stand at the hill crest, bittersweet in my longing for their company.

This does not serve me well. It saps my energy. It keeps me from looking forward to the relationships that lie ahead. Worse, it saps energy from those standing beside me right now, seeking my time and attention.

So today I make a resolve. Since I cannot have the conversations I wish with these friends, I will offer a little prayer. Instead of feeling sorry for myself because the season of friendship is over, I will whisper a wave of gratitude that these wonderful folks graced my life, shared a bit of their spirit, and opened my eyes and heart to new ideas, new pleasures, new connection.

If indeed "Prayer is like a conversation between friends separated across time and space," then that will have to do. My friends need the time and space. They need distance from the intensity that is Margaret. Instead of tussling with that void, I'll fill the space with gratitude. After all, the person wrestling with emptiness will never pin their opponent.

May my prayer be the conversation; may these dear ones receive my gratitude. May that be enough.

From my point of view, the bridge is not burned, the mailbox remains unlocked, the phone will be answered, the door will be opened. Perhaps one day, these lovely people will walk back into my life and be willing to share their hearts and journeys with me once more.

In the mean time, I can pour my energy into the people that love me and want me right here, right now.

May that be enough.