Your Friendships Are Your Legacy
I’m just going to be honest with you. I’m full on tears-on-the-cheeks silent crying as I type this. They come from a couple of places—the exhaustion that is week 10 of a new baby alongside a toddler and the defeat of delayed baby blues, but also the pure gratitude for people in my life. I’ve told very few friends recently that I’ve been feeling down for the first time since Jo was born, which feels so strange and upsetting because I was in a state of strength for two full months. I thought the odds of baby blues (or worse) hitting me was a thing of the past, but here we are.
Week 10 is hard, and I let one of my girlfriends in Ketchikan know that I wouldn’t make it to our weekly dinner date because I just can’t fathom socializing in my current drought of energy. Well, next thing I know, there’s a card in our mail bin last night that reads “All I wanted was a backrub” on the front (I needed that giggle) with the simple hand-written words “you’re doing great” paired with a bag of three giant, fresh-baked cookies. Andddd cue additional tears as I type. That’s a friend, and one I didn’t even meet until six months ago. How beautiful is that person? How lucky am I to know her?
Only an hour or two later, I received a Facetime from my girlfriends in Virginia Beach, who were having a girl’s night and missed me. I didn’t answer because we were sitting down for dinner, plus I was in this antisocial headspace, but just knowing that they called not once, but twice, followed by S.O.S. text messages asking why I wasn’t answering, reminded me that my friends care. Even when I don’t feel like engaging, they’re still there, somehow with perfect timing.
Last night, I told Aaron I just want to talk to my mom. How badly I want to ask her how she got through the tough times, and to hear her comforting words that no matter how terrible of a parent I feel like right now, she believes in me. Aaron insisted I call any of a long list of women who love me and have the perspective of a mom, but I didn’t want to hear it. I just wanted my mom.
The catalyst for the set of tears currently leaving my face is because almost miraculously, my mom is still here, and showed up right when I needed her. This morning, I grabbed the mail from our mailbox, and in it was a pink card with the name of a friend of my mom’s who I haven’t seen since I was a child. Inside was a gift card for a baby store, and a note saying that if I ever need a mom’s advice, she was still there for me. You see, my mom is here through her friendships. Obviously she lives on in my extraordinary aunt, grandmother, and other women who remind me of her-- or simply through any women who love me unconditionally like she would-- but there’s something so unique about the women my mom chose to love in life, not by blood, but through intentional friendships. And those women have continued to choose loving her by loving me, her daughter, whether or not I’ve seen them or spoken to them in 5 or 25 years.
Our friends see the best in us, not because they’re required to through familial expectation, but because they can’t help it. That’s why they stick with us. Love from friends is a unique kind of unconditional support, and worth every second of investment. My mom invested in women she loved, even if they went through seasons of not keeping in touch or hadn’t seen one another in years. Those friendships were cemented for a lifetime and beyond through a faith in God, glorious memories, and proven loyalty.
As we get older and dig deeper into our family lives, raising little ones who take all of our love and energy, leaning on our spouses as primary pillars, and pushing through the daily grind or pursuing personal goals, it can be so easy to let friendships fall through the cracks. I’m not here saying that you have to add more to your plate by spreading yourself too thin with social engagements—I know my mom didn’t see her friends as often as she did before kids, and that’s normal. But when you do have the time, the energy, and the ability to talk to your friends, build memories, have meaningful conversations, or even exchange quick catch-up texts, do it.
Do it for yourself, because you’ll need those random Facetime calls and a bag of cookies in your mail bin.
Do it for them, because they’ll need your bottle of wine and sounding board text messages, too.
But also do it for your kids. Invest in your friendships, because someday, those friends might be your biggest legacy and support system for your children. They will be the ones who send your grandchildren presents because you can’t. They’ll write cards that bring your daughter to tears when she doesn’t have your phone calls. Your friends can outlast just your lifetime, and what a beautiful gift that is.
So please, ladies, never forget the power of investing in the women around you. Today, I am so grateful my mom did just that. I wish I could thank her, but this blog post will have to do.
Jilly Bean, Dianna, Sharon, and the other wonderful women who chose to love my mom, thank you for loving me, too. My heart is immeasurably grateful.