After losing my Thanksgiving Turkey my friend of thirty-five years called and said, “I have a story to tell you that will make you feel better.”
I, of course, was ready to hear anything. I had just lost my turkey and my mother has Alzheimer’s. You do the math.
So she said: “A year ago, my sister-in-law asked me to occasionally check on her condo while she traveled on an extended work trip. She also said that I should take the Poinsettia left over from Christmas so it didn’t die while she was gone. That’s exactly what I did. I checked on the condo. Rescued the beautiful, blooming, red Poinsettia and brought it to my apartment where I diligently watered it for the four months my sister-in-law traveled. When she returned she called to thank me and said,
“Hey, I thought you were going to take my plant?”
I said, “I did, I’m looking right at it.”
“Well, I’m looking at a really dead poinsettia in the center of my kitchen table.”
My good and capable friend. My friend who runs a cardiology clinic and saves lives on a daily basis said to me…
“Apparently, I took the fake poinsettia not the live one and I watered that plant for four months and man,” she said to me over the phone, “It looks great.”
After my lost Turkey story I heard other stories like this one from so many people. One friend went to the wrong funeral and stayed for the whole thing too embarrassed to leave.
Another had breast augmentation surgery but didn’t want anyone to know so she told friends that she was having back surgery. When their church got news, they set up a meal delivery tree. Night after night she received dinners celebrating her new perky breasts to afraid to turn them away. Bless them every one.
This isn’t misery loves company, it’s authenticity. It’s admitting that we aren’t perfect and that perfection is not nearly as much fun, or interesting as telling the truth.
These people are my friends because they make mistakes, admit to them and then laugh. I want these people in my life because if I can tell them about losing my turkey without judgment I can tell them other things as well.
I can tell them when I’m feeling depressed or that I’m afraid. I can tell them when I feel lost or lonely. I can tell them about my humanity and they will follow-up, not with admonishment or fixes but with love.
I feel this way about you; you who get my email and it makes me feel better when I’m feeling not so good.
Thank you for listening and reaching out.
Thank you for being my humans.