friends and family
So I just got home a few days ago from a trip to the midwestern United States. It was supposed to be just a trip to Chicago to see friends, but then on Sunday while I was out there my uncle called and my Grandma had just had a stroke... so after I finished my trip in Chicago I ended up going to Ohio instead of coming home. (This isn't really the point of this journal entry, but so as not to leave anybody hanging, I'll summarize by saying that my Grandma did die, four days later, on Thanksgiving day. She was 79 and a half years old, and was survived by 7 children, 24 grand-children (of which I am one), and 8 great-grand-children (with a 9th on the way).)
At the funeral home on Sunday I met a cousin that I'd never met before. Her name is Cassie and she's 15 years old. I could say so much about her, and I've only met her for like 4-5 hours on one day of my life--there's far more that I would like to get to know about her (and hopefully I will be able to). But that's also not my point. I have another cousin that has always been one of my favorite people in the whole world--Holly--she's almost 18 now (difficult to believe, since I remember her very clearly being 5 years old at one point!, but true). She has her quirks and problems--she didn't come to the funeral even (kind of mad at her about that in a way). But I did get to see her again. And of course I have a lot of other cousins, and like most people in general, so many of my cousins have problems of one kind or another--but I like them anyway--and we all treat each other like family; which is really nice. (This is my point.)
I feel like family (extended family especially) is people that we're given permission in advance to love. With everybody else in the world, we have to earn that right; but with family it's expected, accepted, and cherished. I don't have to wonder when I'm talking to somebody I'm related to whether they want me to get to know them... I can just take it for granted mostly, and I'm usually not wrong. Family can share stuff with each other honestly, without reserve, without any walls of being careful or caring what each other thinks too much. We can even be critical of each other sometimes without being afraid of losing each other. Maybe it's just me, and my personal flaws in how I've learned (imperfectly) to relate to other people, but I don't feel the same way about friends. In comparison to my extended family, I find that I'm not as open and honest with my friends, and that I'm not as carefree in caring and giving and loving them either. And I think it's entirely because of that permission thing.
Of course nobody (me included) goes around literally asking permission of other people to be friends with them to various levels of closeness, but there's so many nonverbal and indirect cues that we pay attention to--verbal cues, physical cues; cues in actions of how another person responds to you. The people that give out relatively positive cues--are the people we become good friends with. The people that give out stone cold cues, are people that are too much work to be worth our time, at least in this life! I'm sure part of what determines the cues that people give back is what they see in the person they're looking back at--and I'm sure there are things that I, for one, could change about myself to be more likable--but the nice thing about family is, they can and do (and in a way have no choice but to) accept us anyway in spite of our flaws.
It's interesting, little kids (especially before teenage; and I'm talking about many little kids, not just relations) often give out permission to love them a lot more readily, and to a lot more people, than adults do. Maybe that's one aspect of what Jesus Christ was talking about when he said we should become like little children. Something to think about.
--David
At the funeral home on Sunday I met a cousin that I'd never met before. Her name is Cassie and she's 15 years old. I could say so much about her, and I've only met her for like 4-5 hours on one day of my life--there's far more that I would like to get to know about her (and hopefully I will be able to). But that's also not my point. I have another cousin that has always been one of my favorite people in the whole world--Holly--she's almost 18 now (difficult to believe, since I remember her very clearly being 5 years old at one point!, but true). She has her quirks and problems--she didn't come to the funeral even (kind of mad at her about that in a way). But I did get to see her again. And of course I have a lot of other cousins, and like most people in general, so many of my cousins have problems of one kind or another--but I like them anyway--and we all treat each other like family; which is really nice. (This is my point.)
I feel like family (extended family especially) is people that we're given permission in advance to love. With everybody else in the world, we have to earn that right; but with family it's expected, accepted, and cherished. I don't have to wonder when I'm talking to somebody I'm related to whether they want me to get to know them... I can just take it for granted mostly, and I'm usually not wrong. Family can share stuff with each other honestly, without reserve, without any walls of being careful or caring what each other thinks too much. We can even be critical of each other sometimes without being afraid of losing each other. Maybe it's just me, and my personal flaws in how I've learned (imperfectly) to relate to other people, but I don't feel the same way about friends. In comparison to my extended family, I find that I'm not as open and honest with my friends, and that I'm not as carefree in caring and giving and loving them either. And I think it's entirely because of that permission thing.
Of course nobody (me included) goes around literally asking permission of other people to be friends with them to various levels of closeness, but there's so many nonverbal and indirect cues that we pay attention to--verbal cues, physical cues; cues in actions of how another person responds to you. The people that give out relatively positive cues--are the people we become good friends with. The people that give out stone cold cues, are people that are too much work to be worth our time, at least in this life! I'm sure part of what determines the cues that people give back is what they see in the person they're looking back at--and I'm sure there are things that I, for one, could change about myself to be more likable--but the nice thing about family is, they can and do (and in a way have no choice but to) accept us anyway in spite of our flaws.
It's interesting, little kids (especially before teenage; and I'm talking about many little kids, not just relations) often give out permission to love them a lot more readily, and to a lot more people, than adults do. Maybe that's one aspect of what Jesus Christ was talking about when he said we should become like little children. Something to think about.
--David