It is that time of year. The time when we sit back and reflect on our blessings and thank God for placing the people in our lives that make everything not just bearable, but truly worthwhile. To be honest, I think most of my female friends would tell you that I am what might nicely be called “low maintenance.” On the positive side – I am not the buddy that is going to be constantly calling your phone. I tend to gravitate towards people who can run in to you after a week or more and catch up instantly and feel like you haven’t missed a beat. I suppose the clingy types would call me lazy or uncaring – but that is not the case. I just fall into the category of people who you can count on to love you, but don’t necessarily need to be constantly “in touch”. What makes the world go round is that most of us cultivate a group of trusted people that compliment all the different events and times of our lives.
So if we all had a page in a mental rolodex, what talents would be listed on your card and what would some of the others say. Luckily, I have one friend that would be labeled – rock (in a good way). I have one that would be labeled- comfort. Another would list talents such as – great decorating skills and another simply – hugs.
Now, we all have this invisible – somewhat imperceptible – filing system, that enables us to know instinctively who to call at any given time. My friend Kathey called me years ago when faced with a horrific scene. She had been placed in the role as caretaker for her mother-in-law’s farm while this in-law was on a trip. One morning she arrived to find that a wolf had actually been in the hen house. There were dead chickens and blood everywhere. The poor birds that were left had been so frightened during the attack that they had injured themselves to the point that intervention was needed. As I surveyed the scene upon my arrival, I immediately realized that my card description had been completely misread by this dear friend. As a city girl who grew up on an island, I might be the right one to call if a school of fish happened to beach themselves on your front yard, but half dead barnyard animals was not my forte. As I stood there trying to drink in the bloodbath, Kathey understood that she had made a very large mistake. She immediately reshuffled her “friend deck” and found the right one. Within an hour, Clara was sitting on a small step stool in the middle of the backyard, lopping off chicken heads with a large cleaver, instructing me to boil the water so I could get on with the plucking. Who knew that Kathey actually had a friend card that listed talents such as emergency butcher.
