Image by Wallula on Pixabay

Isn’t deep conversation with a friend fulfilling? It nurtures the soul. It leads to stimulating thoughts. It can help us understand others better.

In talking with my friend Jen today, I learned she grew up in an Army family. They moved every single year until she was a teen. She now thinks those early years played a part in molding her into feeling like a loner who is insecure about what may come next. And that’s understandable because it’s hard (especially when you’re a kid) to build lifelong friendships when you know people less than twelve months.

When I asked Jen if I could write about her story, she agreed but added that she recently met another “Army brat.” That woman was affected by the constant shuffling in a way quite opposite to Jen. When they first learned they had similar backgrounds, the woman exclaimed something like, “Wasn’t it wonderful to always be on the move, meeting new people, having different experiences?!”

Hearing that story reminded me that various life circumstances impact each of us differently. We know that’s true if we draw on our rational brains. But too often we take the lazy way out and lapse into thinking that everyone should respond to issues just like we do. And if they don’t, they’re “wrong.”

My personal belief is that much of the negativity and hostility going on today is due to a lack of empathy. Wikipedia defines empathy as, “the capacity to understand or feel what another person is experiencing from within their frame of reference, that is, the capacity to place oneself in another’s position.”

Instead, too many people automatically jump to judgment, blame, point fingers, and instantly spew forth opinions from their own frame of reference.

My only link at the end of this post is an old favorite of mine by Brené Brown. It is less than three minutes long. Please watch it, even if you’ve seen it before.

That topic of childhood friendships popped up today because I had mentioned I’m still close with my oldest friend (we’ve known each other since we were toddlers) as well as with my best friend from high school. And I noticed the wistfulness on Jen’s face as she shared that lifelong friendship was an unknown experience for her.

Well, Jen, while we’ve known each other for only seven or so years, I’m making you a promise: I’ll be your friend for the rest of our lives. So from this point forward, you have a lifelong friend.

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Brené Brown’s classic take on empathy

Be still and see what comes to you.

As noted in last Tuesday’s post, so many lessons came to me as I sat on my porch in the early morning that I needed to turn the idea into a two-part post. And again, these are my photos, not professional ones.

The Hellebore, better known as a Lenten Rose, blooms before nearly everything else. I snapped the photo above this past March. The foliage stays a beautiful dark green all year, but the blossom itself fades from bright to pale as you can see here.

Beauty comes in all shades and intensities; time, whether seasons or years, does not make a plant or a person less beautiful.

Last year I bought two of the same gorgeous perennial; one for me and one for my best friend. Hers did remarkably well and recently she couldn’t wait to show me how large an area hers now covered. Mine died over the winter…or so I thought. As you can see here, a revitalized portion appears to be growing from underneath a rock. It’s possible to thrive in difficult situations.

We (humans, cats, dogs, lizards, skinks, etc.) tend to seek out light. Yet I have learned to appreciate the play of sunlight and shadow. I’ve taken other photos of this angel dog statue, but I believe this is my favorite. Sometimes when we can’t see perfectly, we need to look a little closer or a little longer and we end up absorbing more than we would have.

Wouldn’t it be great if our stepping stone paths in life were straight? And oh to have a clean path…no dirt that spilled over from the last rain storm. Let’s not forget brightly lit so we can see what’s coming next. But life, much like the stones that will lead you to my front door, is often curvy, dirty, and in shadow. With all its imperfections, life is what we have.

Finally, a word about this tiny-pathetic-Charlie-Brown-looking tree. It was a gift from the funeral home that helped us with the arrangements when Tim died in 2008. The sapling came with a note instructing us to plant it in Tim’s memory. So we did, but it never prospered. Some years the deer nibble on it. Other times it appears to be dried out. Nothing we do seems to make it better or worse. We even planted a replacement evergreen close by, agreeing that this original just wasn’t going to make it another season and that we should dig it up.

And yet it hangs in there.

Never underestimate the difference a strong desire to persevere can make.

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2012  Washington Post article on the Lenten Rose 

I typically use images from professional sites; today’s photos are all mine.

This time of year I enjoy rising early to prepare a simple breakfast that gets transported on an old hammered-silver tray to my front porch. The peaceful morning is a perfect setting for considering what lessons are offered up to me from the garden and surroundings.

Above is a plant whose lovely blossoms open only in the morning. By early afternoon the flowers have enclosed themselves back into a ball. This plant, like me, is a morning person. Sometimes we morning persons feel an edge of superiority over “regular” people. So it’s good to be reminded that afternoon and evening people bloom differently than I do.

In 2004 we planted a small fringe tree out front. So named because of the fringe of silvery white flowers that hang from its branches in late spring, it grows into a rounded form 12-20 feet tall AND wide. So in fifteen years, it became an unwieldy monster. Until my husband pruned the lowest branches, I had no idea of the view it was blocking. The lesson here is that clutter (physical or mental or green) blocks our view. Over time, without our awareness, we lose sight of what’s around us.

About ten years ago a gardening friend gave me a lilac bush. Disappointedly, it never bloomed until last year when one small sprig of lilac showed up. Then this year there were two sprigs! Hmm…I’m hoping that this lilac will mimic the effects of compound interest and grow like crazy from this point on. But the truth found in this slow lilac is that some plants, some people, some ideas, some dreams take their own sweet time to burst forth. And that’s OK.

This tall spindly native Virginia plant needs to be staked and supported. Otherwise the stems, top heavy with flowers, would either bend to the ground or break. The plant doesn’t appear to be the least bit embarrassed about needing help. We humans each likely have already needed or will need support at some point in our lives. Follow the plant’s lead; accept help graciously so you can continue blooming.

This hydrangea bush nearest the front porch was once annually abundant with gigantic blooms. Severely decimated by deer some years back, it hasn’t flowered for at least three years. But this summer it’s back, although not in the same luscious way. The flowers are much smaller, but that one bush has flowers of several colors: purple, pink, blue, and white. It makes no sense to think I could demand the hydrangea to be like it used to be. I’m accepting this change graciously because sometimes different can be more interesting than normal.

This was going to be a one-shot post, but the longer I lingered over my coffee the more lessons appeared. So stay tuned for Front Porch Lessons, Part 2 on Saturday. And in the meantime, go sit on a porch and find your own lessons.

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