The Family We Choose
When it comes to family
you might win; you might lose -
with our friends it's clear to see
that love's something we choose.
Your family must love you
(they haven't got much choice!),
but knowing that friends choose to
is reason to rejoice!
In spite of your glaring flaws
they chose you from the crowd -
a fact that ought to give pause -
then make you cheer out loud!
They aren't compelled to love you,
to listen or to care,
and knowing that they want to
should make us more aware
that even on our worst days
they see in us our best;
and multiply in all ways
how much our lives are blessed.
By Sharon Flood Kasenberg, January 27th, 2020
As a nomadic soul who has lived in six towns over the past three decades, I can't even begin to explain how much those few friends who have maintained contact through my many moves mean to me.
Those of you who have lived in one area your entire lives have no idea how hard it is to establish new social circles as an adult. I envy the lifelong friendships you have - the annual "gal pal" weekends and the shopping trips you take together. I haven't experienced that kind of friendship since I married three decades ago.
When you are the one who moves on, you learn how easy it is for your place to be filled. The friends you leave behind have other friends, and those friendships usually predate the bonds they established with you. While some of these people are quite sad to see you leave, you know they won't be lonely - their other friendships will soon fill the gap you leave behind. It is a thought that is both comforting and depressing - we don't want our friends to be too sad about our departure, but we secretly fear that we'll be forgotten altogether. Only rarely is the connection strong enough that the remaining parties will really make an effort to maintain more than superficial contact - and while I can't speak for everyone who has changed cities more than once or twice, those are the friendships that matter most to me.
In October, we hosted a group of friends that we used to regularly socialize with more than twenty years ago. The circumstances that brought us all together had changed, and we were all different people than we had been two decades ago, but we still valued the bonds we had forged. We vowed we would all get together again soon, and not wait for another two or three years to pass before we had another reunion.
This past weekend, we got together with one of these couples. Knowing that they'd be babysitting grandchildren in the GTA over my birthday weekend, they invited us to join them at their son's apartment so we could celebrate together. It was a casual affair - we ate our dinner together after the kiddos had been fed, and they watched cartoons while we ate and talked. They bought me a birthday present - a colour changing mug that says "Friends are the family you choose." It's a sentiment that I wholeheartedly endorse.
I like the fact that this mug starts out plain and brown, and is illustrated with a kitten and a puppy. It demonstrates just how unlikely some of our friendship pairings might be - and how when we're in hot water, and the tea of life can be a bit hard to sip - the beauty of friendship often shows itself in its most vivid hues.
I grew up in a big, boisterous family with five siblings - all very different from each other. We love each other because we share common history, common parents, relatives and genes. Other than those things, most of us don't have much in common. We live in far flung cities, enjoy varied pastimes, ascribe to our own belief systems and vote different ways. I've sometimes wondered if any of them would actually become friends with me if we met as strangers.
We love each other because we need to, and we have to - because we are family. It isn't a mark of particular pride to me that these people make room in their hearts for me, and I for them - it's what society expects from a group who all sprang from the same genetic stock and grew up in a common household - sharing bedrooms, bathrooms, squabbles over possessions, and perceived parental slights. Who but a sibling can understand your gripe about a parent without making you feel completely disloyal? They don't always understand us or like us, but they care. We can rest assured that they'll show up if we really need them, and they'll fill seats at our funeral if they outlive us.
Those friendships that last over decades and across miles are different. We bond with these people because we choose to - and because they choose to reciprocate.We don't agree on every single aspect of our lives, but somehow it's okay. Faults that might seem intolerable in a spouse or family member are more easily overlooked in someone who interacts with us because they want to. Differences in opinion are more easily set aside when we receive, and reciprocate, hospitality. It is harder to take someone for granted, or to be unforgiving, when we know they have made a conscious decision to like us, even though we might occasionally give them reason not to.
These are the people who hear your secrets and keep them. They don't judge you when you toss around loose words in frustration and anger. They stick by you when you are such a misery to be around that your husband, kids and siblings enjoy you about as much as a small piece of Lego wedged in their shoe.
They give you praise that is genuine, compliments that you never even considered as applicable to you, and pep talks that don't sound condescending. They tell you off when they need to, but never in a way designed to deliberately hurt you. They will be brutally honest at times, but never unfair.
Your conversations might be less frequent than you'd like, but they tend to come when you need them most, and you cherish them like rare and precious jewels. When you actually get to see each other face to face, no matter how long it's been, you pick up old conversations as though you chatted with them yesterday. Although the circumstances in your separate lives may have radically changed, you always seem to rediscover what brought you together as friends, and can still enjoy each other's companionship.
In an age where technology gives us unlimited access to hordes of people who don't matter much to us, we have increased opportunities to spend time with people who don't play an everyday role in our lives - even though we wish they could. The messages my faraway friends send me buoy my spirit when I feel lonely, and motivate me to reach out to those who are in closer proximity - those people who might become dear friends...someday.
That's the crux of the difficulty for introverted nomads like me - the fact that friendships take time to establish. While I am in my limbo state - surrounded by pleasant acquaintances who have not yet won my trust and become cherished friends - I can't help but be grateful for the people who have loved me across the spans of time and distance. For some mysterious reason, we continue to make the same choice - to care when we aren't obligated to, and to love and appreciate each other simply because we can - and that is a beautiful thing.
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