The Quality of Friendship by Jenn Webb

As iron sharpens iron,

So a man sharpens the countenance 

of his friend.

Proverbs 27:17

“But who’s goin’ to protect you from the bears," the white-haired woman in her habitual windbreaker looked at me very seriously.  She wore a pink lanyard with black mustaches around it and a single key to her apartment.  If anyone thought her slight enough that a good sturdy Texas wind could sweep her off like one of the many unfortunate nanny applicants ahead of Mary Poppins, they would be wrong.  

At 97, she could sit down and get up from the floor without aid.  I was 60 years her junior and couldn’t manage it.  Once when we were setting a 6-foot Christmas tree in the back hall of the residence, my self-appointed assistant fell down head first.  I watched in awed horror as she managed to tuck her head to the side and execute a perfect 3-point roll (my sifu would have been proud.)  As I mother-henned her, she waved me off mimicking in her vibratory voice, “Are you okay?  Are you okay?”  She didn’t like my fussing over her.

 I stood there smiling as she deadpan offered to pack herself in my suitcase and travel to the mountains of Tennessee to protect me from wild animals, torn between wishing she wasn’t asking so I didn’t have to feel guilty saying no and wanting to pack her up and say, let’s go on an adventure! 

As much as I loved my residents, I didn’t want to get too attached, but being in the trenches with them on their bad days and celebrating their good days eroded that determination.  I was still lingering over what I thought were huge failures in my life: divorce, infertility, and quitting my teaching job and master’s program right before graduation.  I was wallowing, but eventually my residents, especially Susie, helped me to climb halfway out of the muck of despair.

Susie was like one of those tiny, inquisitive birds that watches you contentedly from a nearby branch.  Well, except that as a bird, she might hop down onto your shoulder and tilt her head side to side curious, then maybe try to help you in whatever way she thought she were able, offering an occasional delighted chirp.  If she had known I would describe her as such, she would look at me with a raised eyebrow and maybe flap her arms to make me laugh.   She was neat, tidy, and rather self-sufficient, often looking for where she could be of service in her quiet way. 

 I once asked Susie who her best friend was, she thought for a minute, then flipped her hand towards me and replied, “Well, you, I guess.”  I wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or not, but it forced me to see my relationship with her differently.  I wasn’t just someone she had to put up with because she loved activities and I was the activities director.  She saw me as her equal, her friend. I wasn’t always sure that I deserved to be.  Being confronted with her friendship meant I needed to look at my behavior towards her in a new light, to put effort into it, not just treat it like an obligation.

I think that is something we take for granted in our busy schedules.  Not everyone is going to be our “person,” but for those who are, whether we plan on them or not, we need to stop wishing ourselves elsewhere.  We need to slow down and look at them, take our time, and give them back some of the energy they expend on us.

Her friendship and passing were a catalyst in my life.  As she lay dying, I would sit with her on my breaks, staying late.  Just before her 98th birthday, the little bird flew into the great blue beyond.  Only in my memories would I hear her tell us in her punctuated, soft voice, “I love you a bushel and a peck.”  I knew that meant it was time for me to move on too.  

Like myself, Susie never had any children, but I hope my words will be a legacy for her.  Friendships are meant to change us; they carry our legacy into the world just as Jesus changed us and we are meant to carry His legacy out into the world.

No longer do I call you servants… but I have called you friends,...

John 15:15

 

Jenn Webb is a sometime author: sometimes she thinks about becoming one and sometimes she finds excuses to avoid doing so.  Growing up on the Chattahoochie River, she learned the art of self-deprecating wit that has devolved into “weird” humor since her divorce and relocation to Texas many moons ago.  She’s a resident and teacher in Johnson-Somervell County area where she shares a home with her mom and pack of wild, knee high, freeloading dogs who like to pretend being an alarm clock equates to treat-worthiness.  

Despite her winding road to faith in Jesus, she now proudly declares that He is her Lord and Savior