Category: friends (Page 4 of 5)

Life is who you spend it with

March 15, 2014 / Michele Minehart

Our eighth anniversary came and went on Tuesday with a toast and a smile, but otherwise passed as an uneventful day. We were going to forgo a celebration dinner in lieu of getting a lot of work done on a new rental house. Priorities, yes?

Then friends called and said that we needed to join them at “the best steakhouse in the area” (partnered with those magical words “gift certificate”). So we immediately booked a sitter.

At times we catch flack because we don’t choose to spend our precious adult time alone, just the two of us. It’s how we roll. We nearly always opt for good company. Last year, we went to Columbus for an anniversary getaway and JJ invited a friend to join us for drinks. We celebrated our 5th (the first big milestone) by letting my parents buy us dinner. Take out.

Actually, our version of celebrating “as a couple” is nearly always with others. On our honeymoon – yes, that special time alone – we jumped an island to go visit my cousins who were vacationing nearby. It became a highlight of the trip. Now we’re contemplating a 10 year anniversary trip with longtime friends.

I inherited this priority of adult friendships from my parents – I grew up watching them enjoy their childless weekend nights with other couples. They would enjoy a steak from the Steer Barn or gab while playing cards. They had a collection of couples they would call upon to join them for a night at the races, but the beauty was they never had big organized activities requiring an RSVP by all friends. If someone couldn’t make it, they joined in next time. Such an open-door policy freed them from petty arguments.

After nearly 30 years of growing comfortable friendships, everyone’s kids have grown up and started families. Some of them near, some far. Nests are empty and they no longer live by the high school basketball schedule. While family has always come “first”, the landscape has changed. Now they’re moving into that season of life when friends become widows. As family shape changes once again, they are blessed to keep their circle of friendships consistent.

That’s our hope. We love our children – and one another – but we recognize now that this season will seem short at the end. So while we eat up every chance for family outings and vacations, pizza nights at home and trips to the park, there’s a certain level of beauty that comes with sharing some of those moments with good friends. When the kids grow up and (if we do this right) leave and continue the cycle as functional, contributing members of society, we want to wave them goodbye with tears in our eyes as one of those friends hands us a tissue, knowing the pride and the pain in our hearts.

Those kinds of friends won’t magically appear when it becomes convenient. Life shared with others takes the work of clearing space. Giving your “alone time” to those you enjoy*. When it comes down to it, the only thing we take from this world is our relationships with others.

Setting the example: my dad sharing his (our) vacation with the best of friends.

*To ease any fears, we do occasionally enjoy a date night as a couple. We’re home by 9.

Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

January 25, 2014 / Michele Minehart

I grew up with an expectation of deep, gratifying friendships by watching who Don and Jeanne and “the friends” as we call them, and what they became to my parents. I saw how they simply showed up for whatever the occasion called for. Every 4th of July, New Years Eve and Super Bowl Sunday – we spent it together. They showed me that friendship is barely a step away from family – you earn the right to walk into the house uninvited and no one thinks it’s offensive. For us, that’s what friends do – they open their homes and their lives to one another.

I wrote that about a dear friend for her funeral, just a week ago. Because of her new absence, I’ve spent a considerable amount of time reflecting on my life, my childhood, and the huge blessing of growing up with parents who had strong friendships. Now that I’m an adult and lack the privilege of campus-based friendships, I know how difficult it is to form meaningful relationships. I’ve been blessed beyond reason with friendships through my life, specifically women who I love and can count on when I need it. However, now that we’re in a new location, we’ve felt the void of the simple presence of friends.

Tonight another family came over for a hodge-podge meal and a game of cards. Their little E hovered over JJ to learn the ins and outs of Euchre – meaning JJ told her card 1, 2 or 3 and she threw it – while parents enjoyed a beverage and other kids enjoyed a movie. Some of the kids ran in and out of the basement, in costume. (Yes, all this at once. Between the 2 families there are 7 kids.)

At one point I wanted to wax poetic about the beauty of the scene because it was so reminiscent of my childhood. I have vivid memories of sitting upon my dad’s lap and asking what to throw. We would pop in and out of the card game to beg for food or drink or ask for a movie change (and yes, that was VHS). It was so comfortable and friendly and homey. And tonight I could give that to my own children.

The joy and the challenge of parenthood is taking the best of your own life and offering it to your children while trying to eliminate the elements that sent you to therapy. We want to repeat certain memories while steering clear of other pieces.

Tonight I offered one of the best things I bring to the table: a heritage of easy friendships. Conversations and beer and cards and food and craziness. Kids enjoying a time to play together while adults enjoy a time to – well, play together. I love my kids and wish to give them everything they need – prioritizing adult friendships in front of them is an unrealized gift I can gently place in their back pocket. A day will come when they ask themselves what friends do and what a full life looks like and I have given them a picture of people who simply show up in the midst of the daily grind.

When there’s not a title for her

January 14, 2014 / Michele Minehart

You have your family. And you have your friends. Sometimes, those friends become such a part of your life, they become family.

Jeanne was a permanent fixture before I even arrived in this world. Her and Don were BFF with 2 of my uncles & aunts before deciding to make my parents the target of their affections. We’ve spent nearly as many vacations with them as without them and their presence fills my childhood memories.

I’m guessing this is 1998. Raise your hands, people who know me, if you first thought I was my sister.

I find it unfair that when I tell people of my sadness, I’m stuck with words like “friend of the family” or “my parents’ best friend.” I’ve found often in this world adults lack relationships with the depth and consistency I experienced from the circle of my parents’ friends. Now that I am an adult and have experienced friendship outside a school yard and dorm room, I can say what Jeanne (and Don, and the rest of “the friends”) was to us cannot be equated to the occasional dinners or chatting with someone at the end of the school day or church service that others title “friends”.

When I didn’t know where my parents were (way back before cell phones) I would call their house. If we needed a cup of sugar (or, more accurately, a cup of tequila), we could stop by uninvited. We rode bikes to their house, spent countless 4th of July’s in their backyard and scorching summer days in their pond. I’m nearly positive they didn’t miss a single basketball game of my high school career and Erica had graduated after my freshman season.

If I had to draw a picture with my memories it would be set on Lake Cumberland. Actually, it’s this one.

We spent our days boating around, taking turns on the skis (and by “we” I mean “they” because I kept content with a book in the front of the boat). On the hot days we would jump in to cool off between skiers and on the chilly mornings we would bundle in sweats and towels and still go out because it was smooth as glass. I once went to Cumberland with the Young family without my own family. Because, why not?

The year that the kids bought Don a blender for the boat made it even more exciting. We drank margaritas and went to the dock. Don bought a ski jacket for my sister (and then charged it to my dad), so Jeanne felt justified taking an ice cream sandwich. On the way home we got the air guitar show as presented. It was a good day, wrapped up – no doubt – by a game of Hell or “the board game.”

These kind of memories don’t just “happen.” They grow from years and years of presence, in the dull and mundane and in the thick of stress and drama. They’re planted in memories of playing cards, eating Mexican food and waiting to hear Amy in the Morning announce that school is cancelled the next day. They’re grown in discussions of The Young & The Restless and meaningless chatter around high school basketball.

When church people begin talking about “fellowship” and “community” (which is really just the newest word for fellowship), what they’re wanting is relationship that looks like that of my parents and their friends. They need someone to take a day of “Jeanne sitting” when Don is in the field. They seek the kind of friends who send me a birthday card every year, without fail. They’re wanting people you call up on short notice and say, “we’re going to Pizza Hut, want to join us?” just because the night is better with friends.

I don’t feel like we’ve lost a “good friend.” I feel like a part of my childhood family, who happened to live in a different house, has left us. I mourn her presence, her smile, her dry and deadpan sense of humor. I will miss her calling me Shelly-Elly.

Most of all, I’m grateful for the example she set before me as it pertains to friendships. I know, through her, what it looks like to present, to be faithful.

Category: friends (Page 4 of 5)

Life is who you spend it with

Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

When there’s not a title for her

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