Who's that in the Mirror?

Who are you making fun of? I feel obligated to warn you that you are systematically being transformed into the very characters you used to mock. At least I am.

Back in Guatemala when I was the new kid on the block, a young 20-something with few enough children to call each one by the right name most of the time, I used to snicker at Mrs. (you-think-you-have-it-bad) Missionary Mighty Woman with her eight (what was she thinking?) children. She was notorious for publicly correcting her husband, saying, “No, dear. I’m sure you are mistaken. It couldn’t have possibly been 1950-whatever when that happened, because I distinctly remember that I was pregnant with such-and-such a baby that summer….”

Ha! How I used to laugh over that, until I stopped finding it funny. In fact now I find myself (horrors!), not saying it outright (usually), but often mentally correcting my own dh’s faulty time lines. I now calculate dates and events based on how many children we had at any time in question.

Once upon a time I vowed to never evolve into that Mighty Missionary Woman for another reason, but darn if I don’t see glimpses of “You-think-you-have-it-bad” staring at me in the mirror. Maybe it was inevitable, I don’t know, but it does seem that you fresh young 20-somethings have a much easier go of things than we did back in my day, and certainly have things easier than the generation before me. But I will keep my mouth closed and try hard not to say it out loud, though my pen might get careless at times.

When you turn into me someday (just you wait!), or worse, into your mother, which we all seem to do for better or for worse, don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Oh, and another confession, while I’m on a roll. I used to secretly and sometimes openly tease a missionary friend who suffers from something akin to narcolepsy. Poor thing. She randomly drops off to sleep whenever she is in a comfortable chair (which of course is not a daily occurrence in this prickly land of rustic and hard furniture). Ha, ha, ha. How I used to laugh, until I had Dengue, and now it’s Jamie Jo sitting in the chair falling asleep without notice.

I’m telling you, beware! Watch whom you tease. She’s lurking in your mirror even now.

IRL* Maybe if I intentionally mock all the skinny ladies….

Mistaking a Mercedes for a Toyota

In the midst of a crazy week, humor reappeared unexpectedly, providing a few laughs for unsuspecting bystanders. Last Monday while running errands in the city, I almost ran off with the wrong husband. The sidewalk was extremely narrow, and when a car pulled up close beside me, somehow I got it in my scattered brain that my dh* [see "Jamie Jo Speak" in sidebar] had arrived to pick me up.

It's a good thing the door was locked. A man in another car further up the road, who turned out to be dh, was honking to divert my attention just as I was leaning down to see why on earth my husband-who-wasn't-my-husband was refusing to unlock the passenger door. A handsome middle-aged man shrugged and smiled apologetically, instantly shaking me from my daze.

On Thursday, dh and I were telling a friend about my many episodes of not being very observant when it comes to cars, how in high school I offended a rich boy by mistaking his Mercedes for a Toyota, and how not so many years ago I drove my mom's new car to the grocery store without noticing the color or make of the car in the dark garage before leaving, only to panic in the parking lot after shopping when I realized I no clue which car was "mine."

The very next day after recounting these embarrassing stories, Friday night, I was helping the same friend with a Mother's Day outreach to pregnant moms at a Christian birth center. She lent me keys so I could get supplies from her car. Going to the street, I went straight to the car with the Texas license plate (something I do notice!), and was frustrated that the key did not fit in the lock. Figuring I only had the ignition key, I squinted (minus reading glasses) to locate the unlock icon on the key ring (a handy trick I learned when I lost my mom's car). Even that didn't work.

As I stood there obviously perplexed, an amused spectator kindly pointed out that each time I pressed the unlock button, another car—a red car nothing remotely like the one I was attempting to open—would flash its headlights. Oops. What are the odds of having two cars parked on the same street in Oaxaca with Texas plates? The man, however, looked at me like I was nuts. Who in the world doesn't notice the difference between a red and a.... I still couldn't tell you the color of the first car. It was some strikingly non-red color like blue or silver or gray.

A while back we were discussing the question "How do you keep from losing you?" We were referring to the person we used to be before going to the field. Incidents like these prove that maybe I haven't lost "me" as much as I thought. I've grown and changed through the trials and challenges life has supplied, and hopefully the essence of who I am is more Christ-like than before, but deep down I am still the same space cadet* I was as a teen. Like certain pesky sins, some traits plague us throughout our life, no matter where we live.

IRL* Then again, maybe it's a wonder I haven't lost myself; I lose enough other things!
*What we used to call scatterbrains before they invented ADD.

Too many friends?

The day my first friend from prison was released, I realized something.  I hate losing friends.  Even though I was thrilled for Rosa to return to her family in Guatemala, I knew I would miss seeing her at our Friday Bible study together.  Worse, I knew I would not likely ever see her again this side of heaven.

For those of you who grew up as global nomads, you may think it absurd to waste such needless tears over a prisoner getting released, but I grew up in a Texas neighborhood where people were not transient.  In fact, I vividly recall the shock and disappointment when Susie Darby moved away after the third grade. (I still remember her name.)  Good-byes were simply not part of my childhood.  Even my grandparents lived locally.

At this point I have a long list of coworkers who have come and gone, first in Guatemala and later in Mexico.  Many of them I have dredged back up via Facebook, not just for curiosity, but because I genuinely care what is happening in their lives.  Same thing with really old-time friends from high school.

For many years I wondered whatever happened to a couple of boys who used to tease me mercilessly in Spanish class, thinking how they would laugh to imagine me living in a Spanish speaking country for the past 25 years.  Now they are friends on Facebook.  I love that.  They were just silly classmates who made my life interesting for one hour a day for a single year in high school, but they left their mark.  

My list is long.  People whose lives have touched mine and then moved on.  Last week we hosted a short-term team with four members who were here a couple of years ago.  The one was amazed that I remembered him giving me some reading glasses.  The other was impressed that I remembered she preferred tea to coffee.  Is that really so odd?  I just like people.

You might even say I collect friends.  It's true.  I am blessed with a rich, priceless collection of fascinating, unique friends.  Each one has left a mark on my life, and I love each and every one.

Once the WOTH forums become a reality, I will add many of you to my list, sharing your joys and sorrows, praying for you, and honestly loving you without ever meeting in person.

Last Friday I attended a going-away party for a Dutch couple who are in their 80's.  Each time they come to volunteer in Mexico, I am sad to see them leave, knowing that someday they will not return.  I hate permanent good-byes most of all.  Swapping stories and laughing together that night, I was suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude to God for this precious gift of friendship.  Earlier in the day I had experienced the same feeling with the local ladies at Bible study.  Finally they, too, are truly becoming my friends.

Some would counsel me to let the past go and just enjoy the people right in front of me.  I certainly have plenty of friends close by.  But I never can seem to do that.  My earlier friends are all part of the "me" I have become.  I cherish each and every one.

Back to the question in the title, is it possible to have too many friends?

IRL*  If keeping friends is a spiritual gift, maybe that’s mine.