It was a beautiful June day and I was wearing bright PINK jeans. Yeah, baby. A school bus pulled up in front of my new house and a girl popped her head out of the ½-opened window. “Hey, I’m Maya, do you want to be friends?” That’s all it took. We were the same age and lived on the same street. Done. For the next 6 years, Maya and I and the posse that we not-so-creatively named “The Clique” were inseparable. Laughter, sleepovers, catty fights and resolutions, movies, the mall, boys and even the occasional cigarette – we had a great time together. In my teens and early twenties, friendship was mostly about entertainment and having fun. Fun. Fun. Fun. Everything always had to be fun.
And then it happened: Life. Growing up. Realizing that the world is not necessarily about having fun. We all learn this at some point. For me, it was late summer of 2008. I had been a mother for the 3 longest months of my life to a very, very high needs child and wife to a man had been away for one third of the child’s short life. The hopes and dreams and anticipation of motherhood had all been thrown under the (freaking huge and mean) bus and smashed to smithereens. This. Was. Not. Fun. And something shifted. No longer did I need my friends for entertainment and to have a good time. Screw amusement; there is no diversion when your child will not forthelove just stop crying. Now I needed friends for survival and for sanity. I needed friends to speak the truth of Hope into my life and to pick up the slack that I just couldn’t handle on my own. And they came. Girls gathered ‘round and cleaned my house and made me food, held my crying baby and just sat with me while I cried and whined about how tired I was and how hard (I thought) my life was. And because of them, I made it through. Three months later, the next friend had a baby; and then the next. And all of the sudden, we were a tribe. A tribe of women warriors who cared less about giggles and entertainment and much, much more about navigating the waters of new motherhood and surviving the difficulties of life together.
This vulnerable dependency on friends happens for each of us at different times in life. I was lucky enough to have a relatively charmed childhood and didn’t necessarily need friends for anything other than entertainment and a sense of belonging because my family was quite healthy and supportive. But it’s a scary world out there, I’ve learned, and growing into a real woman is hard work. A real woman cannot be made without real women around her. Whether the woman you are growing into is wife, single, professional, mother, academic or otherwise, we women need women to help us survive the brutalities of life. A real friend is like a foghorn on the murkiest of hazy days. If they scream loud enough, you may be able to hear them over the muddied chaos of your life and be directed to hope and Truth and realities beyond your own immediate circumstances.
Sometimes the immediate circumstances are hilarious: “These words came out of my mouth today: “No, Asher is too short to play sword fights with his penis or his pee.” 3 minutes later, I walked into the bathroom and Asher had peed all over himself and the bathroom while trying to have a sword fight with Aiden’s pee. Boys are gross.” Texts like this (whether sent or received) are my favorite! Commiserating on the mundaneness of daily life is one of the most encouraging aspects of friendship, no? Sometimes the tribe needs to make sure that we are safe in our circumstances, “Hey friend! Just checking in and making sure you guys got home safely from church. So icy! Geeze!” Other times, immediate circumstances are downright devastating and words that can’t be said over the phone or in person are more easily expressed via text: “Last week I found out I was pregnant and we were overjoyed. Yesterday, I miscarried at 5 ½ weeks.” When a bomb like this is dropped, there is nothing to do but for the tribe to gather ‘round once again and share in the suffering. We are seasoned enough, all of us now, to each have experienced loss of our own – whether it be that of a baby or parent, marriage, dream or job. Each time we suffer through these losses together, friendship – real friendship – is built. Meals brought, kids watched, texts sent, time spent. Friendship.
This is real life we’re talking about. We women are in the trenches together: marriage, depression, home-keeping, raising goats-I-mean-children, working outside of the home while still trying to BE ALL THAT WE CAN BE at home, grad school or being nice to husbands who are in grad school, trying to make ends meet by either working way more than we should or supporting a husband who is getting up at 4am and working until 6pm so that the mama can stay home with her babies, or enduring this crazy winter as a single mom who does not have the luxury of a husband who will shovel the driveway. Life is hard. For. All. Of. Us. There is no escaping this truth. This is why we need each other and why we build and maintain our tribes for when the chaos of life pulls at the ties that hold it together. Friends are not a luxury; they are a necessity – building blocks that keep us strong and ready for the trenches, allowing us to face life head on with a posse of women buffering the blows of the outside world.
And then it happened: Life. Growing up. Realizing that the world is not necessarily about having fun. We all learn this at some point. For me, it was late summer of 2008. I had been a mother for the 3 longest months of my life to a very, very high needs child and wife to a man had been away for one third of the child’s short life. The hopes and dreams and anticipation of motherhood had all been thrown under the (freaking huge and mean) bus and smashed to smithereens. This. Was. Not. Fun. And something shifted. No longer did I need my friends for entertainment and to have a good time. Screw amusement; there is no diversion when your child will not forthelove just stop crying. Now I needed friends for survival and for sanity. I needed friends to speak the truth of Hope into my life and to pick up the slack that I just couldn’t handle on my own. And they came. Girls gathered ‘round and cleaned my house and made me food, held my crying baby and just sat with me while I cried and whined about how tired I was and how hard (I thought) my life was. And because of them, I made it through. Three months later, the next friend had a baby; and then the next. And all of the sudden, we were a tribe. A tribe of women warriors who cared less about giggles and entertainment and much, much more about navigating the waters of new motherhood and surviving the difficulties of life together.
This vulnerable dependency on friends happens for each of us at different times in life. I was lucky enough to have a relatively charmed childhood and didn’t necessarily need friends for anything other than entertainment and a sense of belonging because my family was quite healthy and supportive. But it’s a scary world out there, I’ve learned, and growing into a real woman is hard work. A real woman cannot be made without real women around her. Whether the woman you are growing into is wife, single, professional, mother, academic or otherwise, we women need women to help us survive the brutalities of life. A real friend is like a foghorn on the murkiest of hazy days. If they scream loud enough, you may be able to hear them over the muddied chaos of your life and be directed to hope and Truth and realities beyond your own immediate circumstances.
Sometimes the immediate circumstances are hilarious: “These words came out of my mouth today: “No, Asher is too short to play sword fights with his penis or his pee.” 3 minutes later, I walked into the bathroom and Asher had peed all over himself and the bathroom while trying to have a sword fight with Aiden’s pee. Boys are gross.” Texts like this (whether sent or received) are my favorite! Commiserating on the mundaneness of daily life is one of the most encouraging aspects of friendship, no? Sometimes the tribe needs to make sure that we are safe in our circumstances, “Hey friend! Just checking in and making sure you guys got home safely from church. So icy! Geeze!” Other times, immediate circumstances are downright devastating and words that can’t be said over the phone or in person are more easily expressed via text: “Last week I found out I was pregnant and we were overjoyed. Yesterday, I miscarried at 5 ½ weeks.” When a bomb like this is dropped, there is nothing to do but for the tribe to gather ‘round once again and share in the suffering. We are seasoned enough, all of us now, to each have experienced loss of our own – whether it be that of a baby or parent, marriage, dream or job. Each time we suffer through these losses together, friendship – real friendship – is built. Meals brought, kids watched, texts sent, time spent. Friendship.
This is real life we’re talking about. We women are in the trenches together: marriage, depression, home-keeping, raising goats-I-mean-children, working outside of the home while still trying to BE ALL THAT WE CAN BE at home, grad school or being nice to husbands who are in grad school, trying to make ends meet by either working way more than we should or supporting a husband who is getting up at 4am and working until 6pm so that the mama can stay home with her babies, or enduring this crazy winter as a single mom who does not have the luxury of a husband who will shovel the driveway. Life is hard. For. All. Of. Us. There is no escaping this truth. This is why we need each other and why we build and maintain our tribes for when the chaos of life pulls at the ties that hold it together. Friends are not a luxury; they are a necessity – building blocks that keep us strong and ready for the trenches, allowing us to face life head on with a posse of women buffering the blows of the outside world.
Not all tribes can be summed up in a simple snapshot. Mine can't, and that's a beautiful thing.
A lover of all things earthy and inspired to live simply in order to live more fully, Kristen seeks to find tangible ways to be authentic - and you can count on her to tell it like it is. Kristen spent her early years as a missionary kid, and is now involved in her own mission closer to home. She is trying to find practical ways to serve her neighbors who are living in poverty and still keep it real {and peaceful} with her husband and two little boys. Kristen is a classically-trained musician who passionately leads people in worship as a part of her church's band. A [sometimes reluctant] working mom, Kristen owns The Brain Gym where she enjoys solving learning, reading and attention issues for kids and adults. Contact Kristen.
